I wrote this April 7th, 2017.  My son needed me during a time he was struggling and needed me.  He had asked to come live with me and told me how unhappy his was and why.  Those reasons do not matter now and they are not the point of why I am sharing this now.  When my son came to me for help I should have put him above all other priorities.  I wish I had been able to do that.  Instead I left to Kansas with Erich so he could hunt turkey's.  I had wanted to stay, asked to stay but I was not allowed to.  I did not put up much fight over the issue because we had just gotten back from the hunting trip to Florida for a week that I had not wanted to go on.  I spent a week in a one room hunting cabin while Erich hunted from sun up to sun down.  I have always supported and encouraged Erich's passion for hunting so understand this is me shining a light on abusive control not bitching about his hunting.  I didn't  want to go on either hunting trip but I was forced to because Erich deemed me untrustworthy to remain home in OUR house.

So by leaving for 3 days I let my son down.  I chose to again put Erich first and I spent 3 days cold, miserable and alone at a campsite in Kansas while Erich again hunted from sunup till sundown.  When we returned home I returned to find that my son no longer treated me the same.  He no longer opened up and reached out to me.  I blamed my ex-husband and other circumstances but the honest truth is I had only myself to blame.  I chose to please Erich instead of making the needs of my son a priority.  I chose to again try to please a man that does not love or value me or my children.  I wrote this afterwards...

April 7th, 2017

I lost him again... So many times, irritated I'd spit my words... "Logan go away! You're driving me crazy!"  Now my soul screams for him to stay...  Silently begging, praying my soul will somehow reach out to communicate with his... To let him know, to feel how much I love him.  How much I miss him.  How much I would give anything, everything... just to go back in time and choke down those words every time I let them fall from my lips.

He's my son.  He's grown so tall, so handsome and so heartbreakingly distant.  I helped shape him, create him... I am his mother.  He grew inside me and I loved him from the start.  I protected him, I nurtured him, I taught him... and I let him go.  

Two years after I chose to find love, I lost my son.  He was stolen from me.  As I chased after my soul that was captured by a man I fail to please... The wolves crept in and stole my son.  I wasn't watching... I didn't expect it... I'd been too trusting.  Now I cannot win him back.  No amount of begging or tears... nothing will win him back.  If only I could undo all those words... all those times I shoved him away.  If only...

I thought I had been a good mother before... It's only been these last few years that I have faltered... Or has it?  Was I ever a good mother?  Was I ever good?  I used to believe I was.  I used to want nothing more in this life than to do good... to do right.  Yet I falter... I fail... I set out thinking with my whole heart that my latest venture of passion is just and true... But in the end... here I sit... alone... Forsaken.

In time my story will spill out here.  I have to type it now.  I cannot journal as I used to.  My hands are sick and to hold a pen and scrawl across the page would mean numb hands and unending pain as I lay down to sleep.  

All the sadness... the regret and worry... the anxiety... the pain... the anger... it all consumes me.  

Is this really how a life of striving to do right ends?  Is this really all there is left for me?  Will all the joy and blessings I brought to this world be forever forgotten?  Why does this world hold only me accountable as it also falters?  Should we not all be condemned equally or pardoned the same?  Why is my standard of measure so much higher than the standard of measure for those holding the ruler?  Why?