Day One.

It is me.  Committing to another round of 40 Days of Writing.  I did really well for about half of my last 40 Days...then I fell apart.  That is pretty much how it happens for me.


My Health Coach told me I couldn't commit to the second round of 40 Days.  It was too much responsibility.  So...I didn't.

I am on my own now.  Just me.  By "just me" I mean:  My therapist.  My husband.  My family.  My friends.  My keyboard.  My crazy mind voice that tells me that whatever I try to do I screw up.  My other crazy mind voice that tells the first one to shut the Hell up and sit down.

Today, I had to tell my 17 year old son that I couldn't drive with him and his Dad for 8 plus hours to go visit his first college choice.  I had to tell him that his Dad, my ex-husband, my former abuser, my worst mistake...is not someone that I can travel with in a car for an extended period of time.  The truth is...I can't have lunch with the guy.  I can't have a conversation with the guy without feeling like I need to tear off my own skin.  I thought I could just do it.  For my son.  I thought I could be strong enough to power through.  I am not.
The internal fight is that if I thought I were "enough" 18 years ago...I would have never chosen a monster as my partner.  I did.  Even though it has meant years of agony for my son, my family and me...I wouldn't change it.  I wouldn't give it back.  Because I wouldn't have Zak if I did.  And, he is worth every bit of it.  When I sob at the therapist's office or in my bed or into my husband's shoulder...Zak is worth it.  When he looks at me with disgust as he repeats any number of rotten things his Father has said about me...he is still worth it.  If he chooses to write me off...he is still worth it.  My hope is he gets to go away, find out who he really is and soar.  He really is capable of changing the world.  He is magical.  Despite all of it, he is magical. 

My worst fear?  The thing that fills my nightmares?  That my sweet, brilliant, handsome, funny, kind, quirky, giving, thoughtful son may have inherited some of the monster genes?  It is science.  I can hope against hope but DNA does not pick favorites.

There are worse problems in the world than disappointing your teenager.  I know that.  Right now it feels like I would trade it for just about any other problem.  Instead, I will work.  I will write.  I will love.  I will find my voice.  I will be the best person I know how to be and hope that one day soon, my sweet boy understands the path I chose.