COMMITMENT, that is.
I run every day. Well, almost every day, but that's not the point, and, as a side note, my level of commitment to running is rocky, at best. I get lost in thought when I run. In fact, when I shared with a personal trainer that I come up with writing ideas and blog material during my run, but then can't remember them afterwards, he suggested that I run intervals and write things down between intervals while I catch my breath. Sorry for the extra -& pointless- detail, but I thought some background might be helpful if you are new to my bloggy life. So..... I've been doing that a bit and I've noticed that I have so much clarity in my thoughts during that time of oxygen overload. I also feel sappy & tearful sometimes, but that's another blog post in itself. So- back to the subject at hand:
Something happened during my weekend in Orlando, and although I had played out several possible "this is how it will be" scenarios in my mind during the weeks prior to the trip, this one came out of left field, and I wasn't prepared at all. Let me back up just one more time and tell you that Jackson has been home for over 7 years now, and during the first 4 of those, I would have happily sent him packing 5 out of every 7 days. I'm talking DON'T LET THE DOOR HIT YOU IN THE ASS ON YOUR WAY OUT! kind of stuff, and I really mean that. BUT, every time he went to camp, I missed the kid. I did. And, for me, that is what kept hope for the future alive in my heart and mind. This weekend in Orlando I met Moms who had fought like hell for their children. Fought for their own safety & sanity, the safety of their RAD child and the safety & happiness of the rest of their family-and lost. Not every child can be saved in this whole RAD mess, and not ONE of these women let go easily, or just gave up. Every single Mom tried so hard and is so sad-devastated-that they could not save the family they had worked so hard to build, and keep it the way it was. The weekend away solidified the feelings I knew were there, but had questioned over and over, in my own head. Jackson is staying. I'm NEVER going to give up on him. I plan to fight harder for
psychiatric medicationwhat he needs. i still despise clinical therapy, but I plan to take advantage of that(round 6!), as well as other services that have presented themselves. I plan to tell him I love him every day and be more.. I don't know. PRESENT. Be BETTER. I'm COMITTED. I realized this weekend how much I truly love this boy young man, miss him when we are apart, and really care about what happens to him down the rocky, HIV/RAD road he has to travel. Call it a renewed energy, of sorts. I'm still in. He's worth it. No more doubts. Remind me I wrote this when it gets ugly, ok?