It’s not about you anymore

It’s not about you anymore. It’s about him or her.

I feel terrible. I’m writing because I feel terrible and hoping that it will make me feel better or get some senses into me. By magic. Who knows?

I don’t care about poo, pee, vomit, slobber, mucus or spat out food. The only thing I find really hard to deal with is actually much less disgusting if you think of it. I use to avoid it, every time it happened, every time I was repulsed, I just looked away. The problem is, I’m a mum now, I can’t look away anymore. If it happens I have to be there for my son, I have to be strong. It’s not just about me anymore, or what I feel or what I don’t want.

When I think of it… I have that terrible ‘madeleine moment’ that takes me back then when I was 14. I felt quite strong back then, probably just filled with boiling rage as every teenager has the right to be. It’s a very critical moment of your life after all, that difficult transition from childhood to adulthood that no one older understand, or more exactly that we all forget because we always look down on teenagers with criticism or pity or mockery. (I’m already having nightmares thinking of my child as a teenager!!!)

Even if I felt strong, I wasn’t prepared for that. I wasn’t prepared to be woken up in the middle of the night by some barely-known-stupid-stranger. I wasn’t prepared to be asked to come urgently in the kitchen like something big was going on. I didn’t want responsibility, I was tired. Most of all I wasn’t prepared to see the floor covered in blood, and the other blood-related adult, bleeding at the head, drunk and laughing, asking me to take care of him. Nope, wasn’t ready for that.

I hate blood but it doesn’t matter because if my son is hurt I have to be there for him, I can’t look away, I can’t make a disgusted face, I can’t feel shocked, I have to take care of him and making him feel better that’s all what matters.



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