It's been awhile.
A loooonggg while.
Summer was busy, and wonderful, and terrible, and fun, and miserable, and exhausting.
Last week I was so overly emotional that I wanted to post, but couldn't.
This summer, we hit the three year
mark of having our Haitian Sensations home, and while I know that we
have come sooooo far, I also find myself struggling with the realization
that some of these really difficult behaviors aren't going anywhere,
I feel like such a weenie half the time,
but the drip-drip-drip of behaviors, with an occasional tsunami to mix it up, of
day-in, day-out behaviors has finally rubbed my nerves completely raw.
know the behaviors aren't about me. My little guys have had an
incredibly tough start in life, a beginning which colors the way they
see and interact with the world.
But the difficult behaviors are directed at me. Me and pretty much only me.
Summer has also brought with it the usual unpleasantries like trying to figure out how to have family fun when you have children who are being heinous. How to make sure the kids who are maintaining are not suffering by the antics of those who are not maintaining. And how to deal with other adults who have "hurting hearts" because they are uncomfortable seeing some of the kids have fun while others sit, sullen and unwilling to interact with the world.
It's an exhausting, lonely, tough and often maddening place to be.
One in which I feel like, to quote the brilliant Essie, I had the nothing sucked out of me.
Well before summer was even over, I found myself teetering on complete emotional bankruptcy. Basically, I knew I had nothing left to give.
Not only do I have nothing left to give, I'm sadly at the point where anytime I have any negativity thrown my way, including by my husband and the other kids (who have every right to be human and make mistakes), I nearly always over-react, am over-sensitive, and can't work through it logically anymore.
This is what trauma does. When you live with it, day in, day out, you eventually can become one pulsating, never-healing wound whose scab is constantly picked off by any errant mood thrown your way.
All summer long, I've
been silently dreading the start of the school year, knowing I had to
somehow muster up the energy and momentum for homeschool.
Energy and momentum that I just don't have.
This year, I have sent all the younger four children to our local public school. Miss Hatfield is in 8th grade and home with me, enrolled in a public online school.
The decision was both devastating, and yet a complete no-brainer.
This year in homeschool was big-- Paloma is in 1st/2nd grade. Writing abounds, reading skills are solidified and grow. Atticus is now in 4th/5th grade, a time where the quality and quantity of work matures, where critical thinking skills are expanded.
We've always said that we talk schooling year by year, kid by kid. And that our goal is the best education possible.
When I am fully charged, when I am "on," (I'm gonna toot my own horn here), I am a Kick Ass Homeschool Mom.
But this fall, on every possible level, I know that there was no way I could flip the switch to "on." Some mornings with the boys can be so difficult that I can be sucked dry
before I even get them out the door to school. Those mornings I find
it nearly impossible to pull it together to homeschool the others, even
when I am at the top of my game.
So this year, I am dedicating it to self care. Healing. Strengthening. Letting go of past guilt, anger and wounds.
To trying to figure out a way for my family to Grow, Move Forward, Laugh and Enjoy itself with trauma children in the house.
To figure out what is important to me. To throw away my old set of expectations and honestly evaluate what I should, and shouldn't be expecting and hoping from this world.
To create a set of healthy parameters in which to live.