An extraordinarily stressful phone call left me crying at the Sheriff's Department most of the afternoon, I don't even wanna talk about it, but I cried at graduation, and cried myself into a restless, sleepless night.
I stinking hate trauma, mental illnesses and emotional disabilities - all of it has cost my children so very much throughout their lives, but Yolie said it best at Tony's graduation last night, "You worked harder than the valedictorian and you deserve this victory the most!"
True that. It makes me cry now too, knowing what all he's struggled against, and persevered through, for 19 years. His birth mother was an inhalant abuser and was drunk when she delivered him. He paid the price. How unfair is that? He has diagnoses out the wazoo, yet has been accepted at the University of North Georgia.
The cut on his forehead came from diving around the river recently.
We live in a wonderful county, now considered upscale, my kids go to school with rich people, with other peers who've been coddled and protected, as all kids should be, but who are given brand new cars at age 16, who have yard workers and weekly maid service, who don't get free lunch at school - complete opposites of our own hardscrabble existence, and to my kids' credit, they aren't complainers about the income gap, if anything they enjoy our acreage and the very active, rambunctious home life - but I so see the differences. My kids tell me that they constantly hear from their peers, "I wish I had more brothers and sisters, y'all must have fun ALL the time."
And, as always seems to be the case, something else was going on with another kid that was breaking my heart on two separate levels with that one alone, no make it ten levels.
I never got back to returning a call from a daughter in Atlanta with a dog bite concern, her dog biting someone, "What do I do, Mom?" She left a message, "I do have proof of the shots."
Thank goodness. I'll call her back this morning.
I'll be transparent and tell you I literally (and unreasonably) seethed in an unsettled jealous rage at the over achievers at the high school graduation. That's exactly how I grew up - not privileged, but a grade grubbing, highly emotionally supported by my parents, and a wonderful middle class existence. I was just completely unglued yesterday, the entire family so upset over the other issue that Tony nearly didn't even make it to his own graduation.
I had to push him out the door, Martin drove him, while I tended to the fallout at home of the other situation, trying to get it together, showerless, for graduation, my nose big and red from crying, my eyes screaming from within, my head pounding way too much inner pain.
The ups and downs of my life are so severely rocky.
Fabian put a warm and cuddly Jaylene in my arms which brought down my blood pressure, hugs from Aliya his other (kind of step) daughter, and, of course, I felt better. Fabian's doing so much better than back when I blogged about his tumultuous youth. He's working with CW, third shift and taking care of his family. Grandma and I gushed over him so much he was nearly blushing.
Miriam, Elias, Fabian, Sandra, Aliya, Jaylene, JoJo, Allen, Tasha, Martin, Teresa, Sabrina, Sarah, Ray, Hazel, Chuck, Yolie, CJ, Mae, Grandma, Jack, Nando, Tabby and Scotty all accompanied me to Tony's graduation, and he was beaming at the turnout. Bless his heart, he's spent so many years doing his confused best to alienate the world, that to have this much support after all must've meant the world to him. 25 of us there just for him.
I'm so freaking broke, we don't ever do graduation parties, or much in the way of gifts, but honestly family presence, family pride, love and support is what I've always wanted to encourage over material things anyway.
It has carried over into their adult lives. Overall most of my grown kids still buy used stuff or on sales - by virtue of necessity of course, but I pray I've taught them all to be thrifty and money wise.
I'm just physically sick over the other situation, which may or may not be resolved in a proper manner. I just don't know, but I became even more wrinkled overnight, a crushing weight on me, I swear I feel the stress slowing taking me out at the knees.
If I didn't love my kids this wouldn't matter to me, but I love them more than they care about their own selves, and I take it harder than they do it seems. I know what it can cost them in the long run, while their neurological brain misfirings and their lack of impulse control, or their diagnoses plus emotional disabilities either makes them a suspect, a victim, or a person of interest at times. It's so emotionally distressing.
I grieve bitterly and deeply. It is all so unfair to them. Why? Why? Why?