Tonight I attended an event to bring awareness to child abuse in our community.
Abuse happens every day, in every community. And it sucks. It's an awful reality for so many children.
Thinking back to the times when I lost my shit, yelled at my children, felt my anger build, I feel so ashamed. I hate that the grown-up Amy couldn't hold it together, be the adult in the relationship. Times when I'm feeling most fragile in my mothering, I'm often times acting out because of my own shit; I'm tired or I don't know how to deal with my own anger. Yeah, maybe my kids are running amok but no kid deserves to be the target of an adult's wrath.
I'm better at dealing with my kids now. I'm not perfect, I still get angry. But I think my skill set is stronger in how I respond when I'm feeling frustrated. And that's the important part, right?
I think about the children whose lives are filled with abuse or neglect, the little ones that aren't able to tell anyone about the abuse because they're too young or too scared. It's breaks my heart and makes me want to hold my own kids that much longer, whispering in their ears how much I love them and that I will always be their protector.
It makes me fucking angry at the abusers that touch, hit, threaten. I hate that there are children that go to bed without a meal, in a filth-strewn home, in a home filled with abusive behaviors. It makes me sick to know that some kid is going to bed tonight, scared as shit their abuser will visit them during the night.
What do I do with this? How can I deal with the bullshit that happens day in, day out? This is someone's reality, and that's so fucked.
I love my kids. I'm working hard to keep my cool and take those breaks when I'm feeling angry, at a loss for how to respond. I will think about the children tonight who know only abuse and neglect, and I will whisper words of hope and love for them.
I hope you will, too.