So, I was talking to my friend the other day... Oh wait I mean...
So, I was talking to my therapist the other day, and I said, "I've been struggling with this question: Is God's intention for us to put our hope in the healing power of Jesus' redemption, OR is it for us to love people for what and who they are now and forever?" And while I'm at it, "Do people ever really heal, or am I just setting myself up for disappointment believing this?"
Three years, eleven months. That's our adoption time frame. My precious daughter had her worst day to date (unless I've just gotten good at blocking out the really bad days). I've been confidently telling people that Royal was older and therefore is "the hard one." He has attachment disorder, it's true he does. But it's to be expected. She has some grieving to do, but for the most part has a healthy attachment to us.
Yesterday made me a liar.
I really want to spew out all the details of our day and make her out to be the bad girl so you can feel sorry for me, but the truth is, she's not "bad." She's a victim of circumstance reacting in a predictable way (if you've studied attachment disorder as much as I have). And I'm a mom who often feels blindsided, unprepared, scared, sad, and unable to put the pieces into place no matter how hard I try and how desperately I want to make it all "right."
Last night I sobbed in my bathroom for a long time because it was all I could do. It felt like grieving. I grieved for the naive person I used to be. I grieved for the millions of kids with no parents, or abusive parents, or parents who just can't seem to know how to be good parents. I grieved for parents with lost dreams. I've so desperately hoped for the fulfillment of dreams. I grieved because I just barely believe that dreams can be fulfilled. I grieved because I don't know anymore if God wants us to dream. I grieve now because I want to believe that God is Love.
This morning I woke up with an emotion hangover. My head hurt, my eyes hurt, my brain hurt, my heart hurt.
This is where I am.
I wrote this almost a week ago. I published it late one night and then woke up early the next morning feeling too vulnerable, and took it down. I know some who read it will worry about me - I love you my friends who worry knowing if you care, you love me.
I have moments when my breath leaves me and it's hard to draw in another. Pee on the floor, again. Homework not done, again. Filthy clothing in the dresser, again. Tattle tales, lies, missing valuables, missing toothbrushes, muddy footprints, angry hurtful words, again, again, again. Individually, these are small meaningless offenses. Added together they can feel suffocating.
We don't always have horrible moments. Right now Royal and the boys are watching the second Harry Potter movie together because he finished the book. It amazes me that he can get through a book that big. It amazes me that his brothers celebrate this with him with whoops and high fives. I'm slowly, slowly learning to store away these moments of success so I can pull them out of my brain when things seem all bad.
He's a passionate soccer player.
She wants to be on American Idol.
He loves to beat box.
She tenderly plays with her baby dolls.
They both play so well with and are loved by the neighbor kids.
He shares his deepest thoughts with me.
She wants to be with me when she's feeling shy.