I don’t want to write. Not one little bit, but I know that writing helps me. It’s like when you have several knots in your yarn and you patiently sit down to watch a movie while un-knotting it. When it’s done you are now able to roll it into a tidy ball. I, however, cannot roll my feelings into a ball, but I can lay it all out.

Every day is really hard. Unbearingly hard. I don’t want to wake up any more. I can’t remember to eat and when I do eat I can’t remember if I have eaten.  Sometimes I can’t remember how to open a photo to edit it. Mind you, that I am having some software compatibility issues so it truly IS a battle.

But it’s all worth it. I believe that.

I’ll be starting a blog to journal and maybe encourage someone out there who also has children with reactive attachment disorder. I am just too tired to start that right now.

I have a child is so tragically broken. Her heart is shattered and it’s tearing all of us a part. The other kids are trying to hold it together, but there are small cracks forming. I am broken and weary and I have no husband to team up with me. I feel alone, though I know I’m not alone.

She is also beautiful. I remember the moment she was born. Once I laid eyes on her I couldn’t remember anything else. I cried. I cried out of the miracle of life that God had given to my neice. I cried knowing that their lives would be hard. I had no idea I would be the one to raise Dusty. I would take her hiking, camping, shopping, and and anything else I could do. Her curly black hair and button nose was enough to slay me. How did we get here?

How is this world so very broken? You know, there is a misconception of Christianity being preached, at least here in America. “Come to Jesus and it’ll be all better.” Can we just be honest here? Walking with Jesus is no cake walk. It is hard, but a hopeful sort of hard. We’re not alone.

Sometimes I feel very alone.

I have a kid who says I never listen to her when all I do is listen to her. She’s a broken record saying the same stuff over and over. In fact, I can’t hear my other kids. They’re talking to me, I’m looking at them, and she’s right next to me talking at me. I set the timer. Give her 5 full minutes to be heard. I do nothing else, but hear her. She’s done in 3. Then she still won’t stop. I’ve heard her, repeated back to her what she said, she confirms. She keeps talking for 2 more hours. NEVER.SAYING.ANYTHING.NEW.

I can’t figure out whether to feel discouraged or encouraged this morning. A friend said something to me that was so very encouraging and it made me cry. I have a friend who is so good about being level headed and asking me, “Have you tried…” when I text her telling her I’m going insane. I have another friend that joins me in my insanity with evening texts. I think she and I could laugh and cry like 2 long lost bi-polar friends. I have friends who are in this boat with me, some may not be here by choice, but they’re here nonetheless.

Yet. That word “yet”.

I read the pain of a friend and see it met with judgement from her friends. I hear of betrayal in other friendships when really kids, we need compassion, grace, mercy, love, and help. Pray for us. Get so involved in our lives that you get to see the ugly. The thing is that if you are not a huge part of our life you won’t see the ugly. You get to see the pretty side of RAD.  That’s the charming part.

Oh. I get ahead of myself here. So much I want to say.

I’ll leave with this one last thing.

Jesus paid all. 

 

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