Who am I is the next stage of my therapy, and a very difficult topic to talk about. I have sacrificed to much, and gave everything I had to be sure the kids were happy and at the end of the day, I know I did my job as a parent. But I’m learning now, doing that all my life has become unhealthy for myself. I find it to be a struggle to do for me and when I try, I feel guilty over it.
Also the plan is to start educating myself on narcissism, as well as abuse, even what red flags to look for so this doesn’t happen again. Ill admit it isn’t going to be anytime time soon. The thought of dating or relationships makes me nauseous at this point. I dont know how the ex moved on and dated while I was still living there. There has to be a time to heal dont you think?
I’ve come to the conclusion the ex never loved any of us to move on so easily. Never the less, I will be better than him in everything I do.
Summer school started last week and I was ready to go back to work. My PTSD was playing with me in my nightmares. It usually happens when I rest and have too much time to think.
I got a visit from Pooh’s bus driver who would be transporting him to summer school. I was little worried about the change. But he would still be in his regular class so I didn’t think too much about it. I introduced Pooh to the bus driver and he seemed okay and even excepted the fact it was a van, or so I thought.
Walking back to the house, I looked at him for a smile, but his eyes told me he wasn’t there. He started to script the trauma his past teacher did to him and took some swings at me, and yelled, “No go, Ms….(he said the teachers name). Coping skills were used and I succeeded to calm him, and assured him he wasn’t going there. I did some redirection, then he started to cry. I told him I was sorry what she did, but he would never have to go their again. He hugged me tight and I heard him apologize in my ear and tried to kiss my arms. I told him, “I will love you good days and bad days.” That always makes him smile and we moved on from it.
For my sanity, I canceled therapy that week I just didn’t want to talk about it. I needed time to regroup. I didn’t even cry, I was angry what that woman did to my son.
That night I had nightmares all over the place and some flashbacks. Damn you PTSD.
The next day, I felt little sore. I had some bruises from the incident but nothing I couldn’t handle. My anger was were it needed to be and that was the person that caused this trauma. Then I realized the van was the trigger. It looked like the same one he use to ride in middle school. Just when I felt my blood start to boil. Pooh came out happy as can be and asked for “sugar loves” (hugs) he hugged me tight as if he really needed it. The thing was I did to. Then I heard him say, “I love you with all my pieces.”
One thing is for sure Ill always be Poohs mom, and he will always be my best friend.