Dear H,

I know you are struggling, which means I am also struggling. H, you are driving me crazy. More than that, I feel trapped by parenting you. I want us to succeed, I really do, but some days I wish that you would act badly enough that I would be justified in sending you away.

I am aware that that makes me the worst mother ever.

I am so tired, dear one. I am tired of the constant vigilance and supervision that you require. I am tired of the calls from the school. I am tired of the chaos and drama that you create around you. I am tired of the lying and the defiance and the disregard of safety.

If I were being completely honest, I am beginning to wish that you had never come here.

But here’s the thing sweetheart, love is not a feeling. I am committed to loving you with my actions until I truly cannot do it any more. Love means putting your needs above my own, and giving to you even when it feels like I have nothing left of myself. I’m not perfect, but I am trying to keep to that standard of love.

That’s why it hurts so much when you curse at me and scream that I don’t love you.

I get that to you, love doesn’t mean much, but to me it is everything. When I am fighting so hard, and breaking myself down further every day to do it, that is love. When you say that I “don’t love you”, it feels like you are saying that you don’t even see me trying. I don’t like you a lot of the time, but I am doing my best to always be actively loving you.

It hurts me so deeply when you refuse what I try to give you, when it costs me so much to give it.


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