I had a relapse today, I could hardly move, slept most of the morning, sticking my disheveled head up off the sofa twice to greet two friends of mine, Emily C and Susan, later in the morning. They'd both brought ten tons of food here, thankfully, as I felt like a wet rag all day. I could hardly eat and kept telling myself, and Sarah, that maybe I'd just pushed myself too hard too soon.
This afternoon, when I felt I could hold my head up, I finished reading Charred Souls: A Story of Recreational Child Abuse by Trena Cole.
It was horrifying, bleak, and depressing, but I read these books so that I remember why I do what I do; so that I don't look at my raging children as monsters, but as the victims that they truly are.
Yolie had tried to read this book but found herself totally unable to continue, I'd had to take a break from it for a month or so.
Interestingly the author was the oldest of her own sib group, that was never rescued from abuse, she felt she survived because she was the one who always had to be the parent, to protect the rest of the seven children. She was the only one who ended up in therapy or having any sort of success in life, the others turned to drugs, crime and alcohol.
She reminded me of Edgar, Jesse, Yolie, Sabrina...all the older sibs I'd blogged about this morning.
I need constant reminders, if only to keep remembering my kids act out for a reason.