A Sea of Emotional Disabilities
It was never our intention to inflict emotional pain on our only child. Unfortunately, children can be ignored and forgotten in the sea of their parent’s emotional disabilities. Children can be transported all over creation. Children can be hurt by their parent’s ability to love. The loudest voice in our house was always his, although he may disagree. His voice was loudest not by volume but by lesson.
Our son was and is a constant reminder to us to deal with what is under the rug. The rug that came to every house no matter how many different places we lived. Loudly and quietly our son picked up frayed corners of the rug and begged for us to sweep out the truth and deal with it. While he lived in our house we could not look under that rug.
In his absence the rugs were lifted up and the brooms, dustpans, and mops came out. He was wise enough to realize that he could not carry the burden of being the family truth-teller any longer. As children his father and I were carriers of those torches, until we unknowingly passed that burden on to him.
Our son could not become a man in our house. When he turned eighteen, against our wishes, beliefs, and understanding, he chose the toughest road to becoming a man. A mission that most would never choose to undertake.
To prove he could.
To get out of his comfort zone.
To grow out and up.
How will it be when he comes home?
How can we admire him more?
It is not his choices that make us admire him, it is his resolve.
Our hope for him?
To see himself as we see him: tender, sweet, smart, quick, handsome, brave, honest, wise, deep, funny, harsh and strong.
The dark clouds through which our son views himself are hereditary and learned behaviors. Our only consolation to him is that the taskmaster he carries on his back gets quieter with age. The clouds dissipate with time. The choice to embrace happiness does become a habit, and is worth fighting for.
In and of him….
We see choices that become flaws and then become character. We see blame that becomes a vice and then becomes responsibility. We see innocence hardened by experience that then becomes wisdom. Finally, we see love disguised as pain that will become freedom.
Our son was born with our adoration. He was protected fiercely from our families. He didn’t understand because there was no need. Protection of your child from the psychopaths that his parents grew up with happened only relying on our instincts. We knew what evil was and while his father and I were toiling away with our handicaps, we were able to make sure he was the only child in generations of children that was not sexually abused.
Does he carry scars from his parentage? Yes, he does.
Whatever he needs to say, however, he needs to be heard, and his father and I listen. Did he grow up under the horrific conditions we did?
But he still deserves to be heard for what we weren’t capable of being for him.
And we will listen. In the sea of our ever-changing emotional disabilities, we will always listen.