I am a child. I have been through hard things. I am not bad. I am stressed out. I am anxious. I am scared.
I cannot express with words how scared I am, I have to show you.
From the diary of a child from a hard place…
I woke up today and I am talking non-stop, and you keep redirecting and you keep telling me to be quiet and I keep following you and talking. I am incessant chatter and constant noise. It grates on your very last nerve. I cannot stop.
But you love me, and you know that for many years my needs were not heard. I cried and no one listened, no one came. It was like I did not exist. I was alone and my voice was just an echo. Now I have someone that hears, someone that listens, and someone that cares. You listen to all the words that no one heard. You are giving me a voice.
I am angry, and I spewed it out on you. I screamed and raged for over an hour until I fell asleep. Sometimes the pain is so deep that I am overwhelmed by the darkness of it all. I am hurting and I don’t understand why. I am in foster care, because I made my parents fight, I made them do drugs, I made them hurt me. I am not worthy and so I will prove to you that this is true.
But you love me, and you know that pain. You are the person I am most threatened by. You say you love me and I have been given a message my whole life, that I am not lovable. I am afraid that you are lying.
I keep score. If someone gets an extra moment of your time, I know. If the pantry door opens, I am there to receive my portion. I calculate and I count every little parcel and piece of the day, because I need things to be fair. I need to know that I am equal in all things.
But you love me, and you understand that this is steeped in fear. That my desire for justice and fairness is rooted in my past. How I could not control the hurt and the pain that I endured in the orphanage, so if I keep score, maybe I will win. Just maybe I will be deserving of your love.
I am charming. The moment I leave our home, I am on stage. I work a room and control the crowd. I have learned to manipulate to garner favor. People look at me and cannot believe how well-attached and loving I am. They marvel at the smooth transition I have made to family.
But you love me, and you see past the exterior. You know that at the heart of my charm, is my need to survive. In your heart, you understand that I am worried that I may need someone to provide food, shelter, and a space to live. You understand that I am still afraid that this is not forever. And for this reason, I continue to shop for a new mother; because how could you not fail me?
From the diary of a mother to a child from a hard place…
I am talking non-stop. I am speaking into you from my first breath to my last; that you are worthy. I am speaking to the world that you are not your behaviors. I am whispering into your ear, that the moment you were formed within your mother’s womb, that God knew I was to be your mother and I will help you find your voice.
I am angry. When I think of your hurt, it cuts to my core. I am scared because I don’t know how to fix this. I see the depth and I am scared to death to fail you. I am afraid that I will buckle beneath your pain. I am afraid that my tiny spark of hope is not enough to penetrate your darkness.
I keep score. I sometimes think there is a tipping point. I think that if I hold you tight enough, and weather enough of the pain; that the score will be even. I count the days you have been in my home and hope that when we have outpaced the days you lived alone, that we will have reached the tipping point. The place that all the small words of encouragement and love, add up to a significant change. I keep score and many days, I feel as though I’m losing.
I fake it. I am not perfect. There are days that your actions scare me. There are moments that I wonder about your future and I worry that you are on the wrong path. I fake it. I put on a brave face and I fake being brave. I fake being in control. I fake understanding how to help you and I’m so damn tired.
But you need me, and I love you. I have learned that love is a choice and today I choose to love you. And tomorrow I will choose to love you.
C.S. Lewis puts it very succinctly: “love is not an affectionate feeling, but a steady wish for the loved person’s ultimate good as far as it can be obtained.”
