It’s now 00.33 in the middle of night, and I have yet to fall asleep. I was so tired; all evening, I couldn’t wait to get to bed, and now that I’m here, my mind won’t shut off.
I don’t write for any kind of attention, or for people’s opinions on my life; I simply just like sharing my story, and writing helps me clear my mind. Today was fine; nothing special, and no major events happened to have an impact on me; it’s been a while since something like that happened, and perhaps that’s why my feelings about what’s already past have surfaced once again, and my worries for the future are bubbling my body anxiously.
I’m a fortunate person, I know that. I have the most beautiful little boy in the world, but some days I wonder, if he’s as lucky to have me? Am I strong enough to do this alone? And the more time passes, the more I realise that I am alone. I am not complaining, we have a good life. Our family may be small, but we’re a strong one. But when I look at him sleeping peacefully next to me, I can’t help but to feel sorry for not being able to make up for what he might have missed, and for the pain he may feel for it later. I promise myself often that I am going to be stronger for him, better; I think all mothers must feel that, just like all mothers must often feel that they betray their own promises. But when we are truly alone, we really only have ourselves to depend on with those types of things. Isn’t it suppose to be more than one person that gets excited to witness a child learn something new? Isn’t that how it goes? The adults share that happiness and excitement with one another?
He’s so beautiful, so peaceful, and I’m so lucky. I am not a perfect mother, and I’ll always feel bad when I raise my voice too loud, stress too much or in anyway make him feel sad. But I will always do my best, I’ll never turn my back on him or choose any path that won’t be for his best interest. I am strong enough; I have no choice but to be. It’s just sometimes, only sometimes, do I wonder...