Raw

Raw.

He tells me I'm a bitch.  A fucking idiot.  I deserve to have someone beat the shit out of me.  I am fat.  I am lazy.  I am disgusting.  I am worthless.  I am gross.

Raw.

My son tells me a few times a week that he can not wait to get away from me.  He hates it here.  He
 hates me.  He hates everyone in this house.  I am the most annoying person he has ever been around.  Anywhere is better than here.  I am not his mom.  He will never love me, and once he leaves his is never coming back.  

Raw.

I love him.  He is my son, though he has been in my life as my son for only 10 months, moving in the day after his 16th birthday.  I love him.  He doesn't understand love.  He says he loves me when I am mad and he knows he has gotten what he wants.  So he can say "I love you" to try and smooth things over.  But he doesn't, he cant because he 
doesn't understand what love is.  To hear him say it, not meaning it, not understanding it, knowing his smile and his desire to have me happy with him won't last past the end of whatever activity he is 
getting to do hurts more than never hearing him say it at all.

Raw.

Most days when I approach him to talk to him he yells at me to quit following him.  I am told to fucking stay out of his life.  I am told to not do his laundry, not go through is back pack, not talk to his teachers, don't show up where he is... school, with friends, ball games etc.  I am told to go away, go away, go away, go away, GO AWAY!   Everything is a secret.  Nothing is any of my business.  He is none of my business, his life is none of my business.  

He wants my money.  He wants my sacrifice of time.  Money and time without any strings, without any gratefulness, without any limits, without any commitment or reciprication from him.  Nothing is enough, nothing is good enough.  

Raw.

So I struggle to put into words how much my heart has been hurting lately. My heart has wounds that are raw and bleeding.   I struggle to put into words how there are nights I go to bed feeling like I have been beaten down to the point that I cry myself to sleep.  I can't tell you how many days I have cringed, knowing he is going to wake up soon.  I cringe when the weekends approach knowing how he will hate me when he doens't get to do exactly what he wants, when he wants, how he wants.  Most days I feel like I am arming myself for battle, steeling my heart, so that not all the flesh is flayed and raw.  

I have to remind myself he doesn't know what love is.  Everything he says to me, it has all been said to him.  Only, when it was said to him, he was a child... and I am an adult.  It should make it easier right?  I am sure it does.  How very scared and hurt he must have been, still is. 

 I have to be strong. I have to have courage. I have to heal quickly, and love in spite of the pain his words cause me. I can't guard my heart, partial love will not be enough.  I have to be real, and I have to be strong enough to take his pain AND mine, until he is ready to take his back.  

 If he only knew, only understood how very much I love him.  If he only knew how much his smile means to me.  If he only knew how very hard I am fighting for him.  Maybe he could quit fighting me just a little?  

Some hurts are just too raw.  He is not ready to heal, he is not ready to accept me as mom, he is not ready to receive or give love.  His hurts are just still too big and raw.  

Parenting hurt children is hard.  It leaves your heart bruised, and leaves some wounds raw and bleeding.  It requires strength you didn't know you had, courage you never knew you were capable of, compassion that only God can gift you, and a love that is pure and willing to be rejected over and over and over but never weaken (or at least not for long)....