Broken Whole

I have been broken this year.  My partnership of almost 9 years ended at the end of 2011. Attempts to live with Lori, after we dissolved as partners, ended with her with her saying "this is too hard".  And it was hard.  And it is hard.  Relationships are hard to nourish.  It is also hard to watch them die.  It is hard to maintain a strained relationship for the sake of the kids.  It is hard to release that relationship for the sake of the kids. Lori chose the release.  She was right to do so.

I have been broken this year.  My mom role, my most treasured role, shattered as I had to extract myself from the kids to allow time for Lori.  The extraction harder than anything I have known.  My mom role broken as I released my child to foster care.  Not just released, but instigated the contact with Child Protective Services.  An agency I worked for for 10 years and never dreamed of being involved in on this side of things.  Not just released her, but initiated and advocated for her to be taken into care.  Extraction.  Too hard.  

I have been broken this year.  Trying to meet all the needs of the kids when they are in conflict with one another.  To keep Gomah in the home would be to jeopardize all others.  The depression and fear of the other kids due to Gomah's inability to step out of trauma.  Despite love.  It is not enough. Or counseling. Or medication.  Sometimes it is too hard.  

Broken thoughts.  Reduced to fragments.  The story to heavy for a full sentence.  Must be told in pieces in order to be told at all.  Gomah who tried to kill.  Kill us.  Wound us.  Destroy us.  She was taken to a juvenile detention center.  Then placed in a foster home.  Then another foster home. Then hospitalized.  I had a child removed from my care because her needs exceeded my ability to meet them.  It was too hard.  Too dangerous.  Too scary.  I wanted her gone. I wanted to walk forward and not fear explosions. I wanted to focus on my other children.  I wanted to be the parent to them I had been denied because of management of Gomah.  Beautiful child. Who laughs and offers to help.  Who curses and sits in my lap.  Who hates and loves vehemently.  Who bullies and comforts.  Who hits me and kisses me.  Wants me and then denies me. All are her truth.  Beautiful, broken child.  I understand.  I cannot tolerate. 

Broken. Not what I thought my love and life would be.  Protecting against and parenting the same child.  Released from a life of 9 years because it was too hard.  Relinquished to a place that felt even harder.  

Lori and I now look like every other divorced couple.  Minimal conversation.  Saying what needs to be said about the kids.  I raged. She was the target of my brokenness.  I was for her as well.  Our fears realized because of our own doing.  We are moving beyond brokenness, but we are no longer family except around the children. Community understands this animosity.  Many people did not understand why we would continue to live together, to continue to love, when our partnership had ended.  Even our kids wanted a "normal divorce like their friend's parents".  They often inquired why we couldn't be normal, just once.  Normal is too hard.  

The incredible thing about being broken is I got to put myself back together.  I have found a love like I have never known. In an amazing friend who has become more than I knew to dream.  

Picking up pieces.  Tossing my mistakes.  Holding tight to the lessons they gave.  Learning how to parent four individuals.  Parenting Gomah means letting her fall.  Picking up the pieces as we go.  She calls me when she is in trouble. I parent her without being her victim. I tell her story to every doctor, therapist, foster mom and teacher.  I advocate for her.  I am her voice.  Her protector.  From a distance. I hold her pieces until she is able to put herself back together.  I know she will.  For now, I make sure she has my voice in her head.  Telling her I love her. Telling her right from wrong even if she continually chooses wrong.  I want my voice in her head.  I parent her in every way I can even though I never imagined my role as her mom looking like this.  I will follow her.  To every foster home.  To every race. I will be there for all her victories and all her failures.  She will come home.  Holding tight to the lessons learned while forgiving herself of her mistakes.  

I have been broken this year.  I have been healed this year.  I have loved even when it was too hard.  I have failed.  I have succeeded.  As this year draws to an end I will shoot a gun, pop a cork, light a Chinese lantern, eat black eyed peas and usher in this new year with all I have got.  I have been broken this year.  I have also been made whole this year.  And I am grateful.