Over a decade ago, I had a plan. I was getting close to access to a firearm. I was going to blow my brains out in front of my mom. Maybe as punishment for all the abuse she directly put me through and allowed others to put me through. For letting men have their way with me when I was a child and blaming me. For the verbal and mental abuse, bruises and welts, abandoning me multiple times, and lack of affection or concern with my wellbeing in general. I had been living it up toward what was intended to be my end. Fucking around with someone bad for me, (who had the gun I was gonna use), drinking, pills, my farewell tour, you could say. I had a date picked and wanted it to be perfect. Before that date, I found out I was pregnant. I always wanted to be a mom, to do things right, to just see one child in our family raised with love... but I always miscarried when I tried. This one was viable. I cut the shit. Started therapy. Took care of myself. Cut ties with my abusers. Had the baby and have raised him with gentle, nurturing love, healthy boundaries and communication, good nutrition, and he's been very well protected from harm. He's recently diagnosed with a chronic condition which requires great expense and constant care, and I've recently been diagnosed as autistic with CPTSD. I'm alone, I have always raised him alone and choose to not date because motherhood is my top priority. Life is so fucking hard and I don't think I'll ever fully heal and even if I do, knowing my sensitivities are part of me and will never go away is horrible. I am so lonely. I have a few friends but I don't want to tell anyone about how deeply I hurt, how very tired I am, and how hopeless it all feels. I am trapped being alive. For him. Because he deserves to be cared for and not to ever think I want to leave him. I don't want to leave him; it's everything else, and it's me. My son is the light of my life and I'm trapped being alive because I could never hurt him like that. There's this fucked up part of me that wishes I had done it all those years ago, before I heard that fluttering heartbeat. I'm past my expiration date. I hate myself. The only good thing I have to offer the world is the sweet, bright, funny, lovable person I'm raising. And I'll keep going, but life is really fucking heavy and scary and I have to pretend I'm okay. For him. With any luck, he'll never know how messed up I am, and will have a happy life knowing he always has a safe place where he's loved unconditionally. I want to see what he's gonna do with his potential. I never want him to suffer as I have. I just wish I didn't have to hurt so much while waiting for my natural end.
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