Watching Apples Grow Into Trees

I didn’t realize just how long it’s been since I’ve posted here. Yes, I’ve been AWOL. Trying to get my head together kinda’ does that. As in any journey through recovery, we always make new discoveries. Yesterday I didn’t just stumble across one; no… it was a brick wall I ran into at full speed – and it wasn’t about me. It was about my kid.



They really don’t fall too far away.

I haven’t cut in… wow – this Friday will be 7 weeks. This is the longest I’ve gone and it’s a great feeling. There are still hard days; in fact, I almost gave in just the other day, but I didn’t do it. I made it through the stress and drama and I didn’t cut. I had a good cry fest and made it through.

Today, I found out one of the people I care about most in this world; someone I would give my own life for, is cutting. My son. My son is a cutter. Gods, I cringe when I even think it, much less put it into words.

He doesn’t even remember when he started. Probably before I did, but somehow I feel responsible. I don’t want him to end up like me. I want his life to be so much better; so much easier. This wasn’t supposed to happen to him.

If I could go back and undo anything just to make this not happen, my god, I would.

… He’s perfect just the way he is. He’s loved. I know he knows this. But there is a difference between knowing and believing. Does he believe this? How many of us have this problem?

This morning was a good morning. He made it a full week without cutting. This is the longest he’s gone. Today he gets to celebrate 7 days. I want to do something special for him, just like I did something special for myself that first week.

My son is 16. At this point in his life I have taught him right from wrong, taught him he is loved unconditionally, and taught him he is worthy of being loved. I’ve also admitted my own faults and I’ve been honest with him, telling him I’m working through these issues and why; how they hold me back. I’ve told him to learn from this so he doesn’t go through that himself someday. Gods, in trying to prevent something, did I screw up my kid? I’m his mother! This has somehow got to be my fault!!



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