This is an emotional post for me. I’m actually in tears writing it because it is so deep and raw. My hope is that, by sharing it, someone who feels the same way will know they are not alone.
When it comes to motherhood, I didn’t do the best I could. And I don’t forgive myself.
There were many wrong decisions made over the course of my son’s life, that if I had made differently, he could have avoided years of pain, and suffering with mental health and addiction.
I should have held him until he fell asleep every night when he was a tiny baby. I could see how difficult it was for him even then. I should have just held him.
I should have cleaned the house less and listened to him more. I should have taken him to a child psychologist every time I googled his troubling behavior. I should have listened to the voice in my head that said sugar addiction and late night device using were indicators of future issues.
I should have stayed up all night with him then. I should have never gotten angry or frustrated but realized how deep his struggles were and helped him cope.
I should have stopped him from drinking when he was a teenager. Instead of giving him information and trying to teach him about moderation. I should have stopped him. Because I knew. I always knew. I told myself I was overreacting because of how I grew up. But that is exactly why I could see it coming. And I didn’t stop it.
I should have done more. More. I didn’t do enough. I couldn’t have done my best. I must have had better to give.
I’m not a perfectionist. I don’t feel like I am. But I do believe my children deserved the best. Or at least better than it seems I was capable of. Especially that one. He needed so much more.
So there it is. The deep, dark truth. I don’t forgive myself for not being a better mother. But here is another awful truth. It doesn’t matter. My feelings about it are irrelevant. I can’t change the past. So I can spend all
my time focused on how terrible I feel because I didn’t do better, which is a huge waste of the present moment. Or I can keep moving forward. Keep starting over. Keep trying to be better for all of them.
If I find a Time Machine tomorrow, you can bet I’m going back and I will do it better. But until then, all I can do is keep moving forward.