Monsters

There is a darkness in me. I used to think it was because of events in my life.  

The first time I saw evidence of it in one of my children I was devastated. I thought that I had somehow caused it, that I had tainted the child with my own darkness. 

I now realize that there is darkness in all of us. 

It's like there are monsters living in our heads. I can't remember where I read that, but it rang true to me. 

We all have them, locked down in cages in our psyches. Some people have tight control of their monsters, and if one were to ever escape they would be brought back under control by any means necessary.  Other people's monsters seem to roam freely, causing chaos and destruction where ever the person goes. 

Most of us are somewhere in the middle. Our monsters are occasionally brought out to play, then get put back after they've had some exercise. 

Those monsters - our darkest fears, our deepest hopes, our scars and wounds that never quite heal - they're part of us. They make us who we are, just as much as our public personas do. 

Getting ready to graduate...

So after months of dragging her feet and procrastinating any way possible, the girl came to me and said "I have a plan that will have me finished with high school soon."
YAY!!!
She working on Chemistry, Calculus, and Economics.
I love it when she gets into her studies. When she's motivated, she's a powerhouse. It's amazing to watch. She gets so much more motivated when she comes up with her own plan. I'm so excited to see where she takes the remainder of her studies.

In other news, some superficial cutting about a month ago. Nothing really deep, and not as often as it had been, but she does still occasionally cut. It worries me, but I know it's hard to stop completely.

Raising a teenager

Raising teenagers is hard. I mean, really hard. They look like adults, and sometimes they sound like them. 

They are not adults. 

When I ask the girl a question I'm still likely to hear "I don't know" as an answer. But it will come from above my head because she's taller than I am. 

When she's sick she still wants me to rub her back and hold her in my arms - but sometimes her breasts get in the way. 

She calls me Momma and holds my hand in the grocery store. I glare at the people who give us funny looks because I don't want her to get too self-conscious to continue. 

Sometimes I look at her and wonder who the hell this almost-woman is, and where did my little girl go. Then she gives me one of her now rare smiles, and her dimples appear for a moment, and I see the little girl briefly. 

There are times my heart breaks because she's just so beautiful, and times when all I can see in her are my own flaws. 

I want her to travel, to see the world, to study whatever makes her happiest. I want her to fall in love, build a life, feel fulfilled. 

I wish I could protect her from heartbreak, from injury, from making stupid mistakes. 

Raising a teenager is hard. I can't imagine not doing it.