I wonder sometimes about what life would be like with my
father still alive. For the life of me I cannot see how him dying was for the
better. Was I supposed to be born into a vicious cycle of abuse? I try not to
question my story but embrace every obstacle I have went through so many things
as proof that I am an overcomer. But even after overcoming what happens to all
the hurt and pain I had to endure while going through? It reminds me of a
football game. The star quarterback throws the winning pass as he it tackled
and knocked on conscious. For a few moments he blacks out and awakens to a
screaming crowd. He is checked out by the aide on the field and is able to get
up and brush himself off. Does he celebrate? In that moment he is fine but who
is to say what the long-term impacts of that tackle will be? Will it matter
then that he was a star quarterback years later when he is having delusions
that resulted from all the hits he endured after years of being tackled? At
what point do we recognize the impact of injury? Because he got up at that
moment why do we not perform the x-ray to dig deeper to see what impacts and
deeper injuries he really sustained? This concept is the same in life. I feel
like I’ve overcome many things in life. I’ve played the role of the star
quarterback. I’ve thrown the winning pass at many games in life. I’ve taken the
hits and gotten back up. I’ve been the MVP. And while in the moment it feels
great at the top, in the midst of the crowd cheering, I’m reminded of the
injuries. Was it all worth it? What will I become? Was it necessary for me to
endure all that time? So now here I stand 32 years later. In my mind I like to
believe I’m much bigger and better than those hits, but my mind and heart
aches. I am angry. I am bitter. I cry. I scream. I want it all to end. And
there stands my beautiful son. Have I taken him to try out for the same
football team I played for? Have I exposed him to those unfixable injuries I
too endured? As his mom it’s my job to protect him right? Yet I still sign him
up for try outs and take him to the practices even though I know he deserves
better. I then realize I am exposing my son to the same vicious cycle of abuse.
Given the unique differences my son has being a black male with Aspergers, what
is his perception of what a man should be? What is his perception of women? As
parents we may sometimes think our children are oblivious to what is going on
around them or even right in the home. We have no idea that the events that’s
transpire in the home all play a role in shaping your child’s character and outlook
on life itself. I was often told that I was a mean little girl and the
assumption was often because of loosing my father .No one ever knew what was
going on in my home. I often tell teachers that if you really wonder understand
why a child acts out all you have to do is visit the home. I am charged as
Jahmeir’s mother to recognize the mistakes of my past and in my childhood and
all the things that were painful for me it makes no sense to inflict the same
pain on my son. So even in the midst of the tears I shed in posting this, my
tears can only be motivation to breaking the cycle so Jahmeir comes out on top.
