18mepri

I sit on the edge of my son’s bed, the sunlight filtering through the curtains, casting warm patterns on the floor. Today is his eighteenth birthday, a day I should celebrate with joy, yet I feel the weight of my secret pressing down like a heavy cloak. The serene front I’ve put on for everyone is cracking, revealing the turmoil beneath.

I’ve done everything to make things right in the eyes of society — work endlessly to ensure others dwellings are liveable, water is functional and electrical won't catch fire during bad weather....an handy-wo-man — yet the reality is a far cry from the image I project. I remember how I promised myself I wouldn’t let my past define my present, but the shadows of my childhood traumas loom large, always threatening to pull me back into the darkness, especially when I’ve chosen to stop taking my medication.

The memories swirling around in my mind feel like an unending storm, wreaking havoc on everything in their path. Last night, I found myself in a heated argument....only its with my ex-spouse things have transcended beyond a mere disagreement about household chores. It was a tumultuous battle for control over my spiraling thoughts, which have been deeply influenced by my ongoing struggles with PTSD and depression. As I grappled with these inner demons, memories from my childhood surfaced with alarming clarity. I vividly recalled the terrifying moments of wishing to be locked away during my mother's drunken fits of rage, the echoes of her thunderous voice reverberating through the old walls of our home. I still feel the glass from t

ive to he window hitting my back as I covered my sister so she wouldn't be hurt.

In the midst of trying to articulate my emotions to my husband during the argument, I couldn't help but feel like a frightened little girl trapped in the past, rather than the grown adult I strive to be. It's as if my words get lost in the whirlwind of emotions that engulf us, leaving me vulnerable and exposed. His words in anger and frustration only worsen mine, creating a cycle of hurt and misunderstanding that seems impossible to break. The echoes of past arguments reverberate in my mind, haunting me with their unresolved issues and unspoken grievances.

Each altercation cuts deeper into my emotional well-being, leaving scars that may not be visible but are deeply felt. The wounds of the heart can be just as painful as physical ones, if not more so. The subtle whispers of those around me seem to subtly shift, insinuating that I am somehow violating an unspoken code of motherhood, or even basic personhood. The judgment of others weighs heavily on my shoulders, adding to the burden of self-doubt and insecurity that already plagues me.

The weight of these internal battles feels overwhelming at times, like a heavy cloud hanging over my head, ready to burst at any moment. It's a constant struggle to maintain my composure and keep my emotions in check, especially when faced with triggers that bring back painful memories from the past. Walking on this tightrope between past traumas and present reality requires a delicate balance, one that often feels precarious and unstable.

Despite my efforts to move forward and leave the past behind, its shadows loom large in my mind, casting a dark shadow over my attempts to find peace and stability in the present. The ghosts of past hurts and unresolved conflicts linger in the corners of my consciousness, waiting to pounce when I least expect it. It's a battle I fight every day, trying to break free from the chains of the past and forge a new path for myself and my family.

As the tension escalates during the argument, I realize that I need to step away before I do something I might regret. Taking a few moments to collect my thoughts and regain my composure, I return with a renewed sense of purpose and determination. I refuse to let my emotions get the best of me, especially when it comes to my son. I won't allow my inner turmoil to ruin his day or cast a shadow over his innocence. It's a promise I make to myself, a vow to protect him from the storm raging within me. Just like that, I snap back to the present. I feel the tension fading away, I unclench my teeth, I loosen my grip on the mop, i breathe deeply, slowly exhaling...In my mind keep repeating over and over thats i got this umder control.

When I hear the muffled laughter of my son and his friends in the other room, I am reminded of why I chose to mask my pain. The world still believes I have it all together; I’m a successful entrepreneur.But what nobody knows of is the gift my boy is receiving from me. I wanted to give my son something meaningful when he turned eighteen—not just a gift, but a promise that he will have a future. The idea of him even chancing the struggles of my past, is not anything I will fathom, or lend head to. He will not know them.

Dinner arrives, laughter fills the air, and the candlelight winks at the gathered faces, all waiting for me to commence the birthday toast. I glance at my son, the young man he’s become, vibrant and confident, and I feel a twinge of pride mixed with fear and sorrow. I look at my husband and try to forget the argument we just had. I start speaking, " well you sure have gotten big. Along shot from being the preemie everyone thought you were an lifelike doll...laughing, you definitely proved wrong ...well anyhow...Patrick and I,""" frustration overwhelms me, I am so embarrassed and disheartened that that m*"': f*;"+" is still messing s"':up for me....damn....I restart that part....,Aiden we are sll so very proud of you.. and your plans for college, and just everything. You really are a great young man!" ...“Today marks an important milestone for you and I want to gift you something special," I finished speaking, my voice cracking.

Here are the keys to your car and heres an spare to my truck....its running now, you can use it if you really need.....I look at his expression and I see confusion overshadow joy. He thought I was getting him some game or a pair boots.....For over an year I had saved up for this day...my truck looks like it hasnt been washed in years...and all the old parts are full of leaves and sticks and dust to the rim in the bed. However. I already bought all the stuff to fix the heads, about two years ago. Whenever I have an good hour or more I go work on it....I even moved it with the front if the motor removed... The surprise for my son. I gave him my Saturn, it's an five speed, less than 110000 miles and is an coupe 2003 ion 3 with sunroof. I made one other adjustment though I put an small tow package underneath it.