Not To Diminish ....But....

We had a Trauma/PTSD inservice the other day at work. Concerning our student population and the teachers and staff who serve them. Much like going to WebMD and reading your syptoms of a classic headache MAY be a brain tumor, I left the inservice thinking I may have a name for my symptoms. I MAY have PTSD from divorce and single motherhood. I MAY be experiencing trauma on a daily basis at my workplace.. I am rubbed so raw, that my desire for "normalcy" or a stretch of MAYBE a week where life is calm, is unattainable. I wake up with my heart in my throat, tenuously making and drinking coffee, waiting for the first shoe to drop. Will it be a text from my ex husband? Will it be a phone call from my oldest son needing me to do something for him IMMEDIATELY, when my day is already booked? More likely it will be a tone of voice, an angry outburst...from my youngest son. I am always in a state of high alert... and how long can a body sustain that level of anxiety before it destroys rational thought?
Much like a soldier in a war, I am in a daily battle for peace, lightheartedness and order. I know, I know. Who isn't? But you don't understand. I have no idea what it feels like to RELAX and ENJOY my family life. I read that that's how other households are. I am envious, jealous and cynical when I hear that others had a "wonderful evening. we watched a movie, had a fire".... WHAT!!!!!!!!!!!!??? And you were with family? Amazing. Time with my family is heart in the throat, hate to answer the next phone call, and waiting for calamity.......Maybe I dont have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. I have RTSD....Recurring Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Hearing vs Listening

51-ish.....2 divorces....2 teenage boys....1 in the USAF...1 slipping out of my hands and off of my shoulders because I cannot carry this load by myself much longer. I cannot have another male in their lives to tell them or I what we have done wrong. Cannot hear one more tsk-tsk. As if the click of a tongue and the shallow terms of accusations will help snap me out of mundane mothering. So I hang up without a closing sentiment, because I have no more sentiments except for the physical pain. The physical pain of not being listened to. Of 15 years of single parenting reduced to one slap in the face, that I have been and continue to be, a poor custodial parent. I leave the phone on the coffee table, stare and swallow. The pain resides in my throat right where, if I had an Adams Apple, it would get stuck. Instead , the broken glass, ripped up years of hopes and dreams, gets stuck right below my throat. I CANNOT let the broken glass I swallow get to my heart. So I bleed alone. And no one hears. And no one shows up because friends do need to hang up. Because even when I talk, He won't ever listen to my words. He has left a debris field and forced me to put on a mask and go through the days being the The Voiceless for The Fatherless.