I just dropped my boy child, my baby, my first, heart-filling love, at his Nanna and Grandad’s.
I told him he couldn’t come home with me tonight.
That we needed time away from each other to think.
My heart hurts.
It is empty and heavy.
I miss my boy.
We had an argument about his behaviour.
Yes, I should be the calm in his storm – doubly with Sensory Processing Disorder.
But I am human.
And it hurts.
God, the things he does and says sometimes, they hurt.
We yelled and he screamed and he jumped on the bed and screamed and threw things and I cried.
And I told him to pack a bag.
And he cried.
He told me I don’t love him.
I don’t want him.
I never loved him.That I should just leave him on the side of the road and have a happy life without him.
I had to tell him over and over, I do love him.
I need him.
I won’t be happy without him.
But he needed to have a talk with Grandad.
He needs to have some time and so do I.
I will come and pick him up tomorrow.
When we’ve breathed.
That I love him.
People who don’t understand sensory processing disorder.
They probably think it doesn’t exist.
That he’s just a brat.
That I’m just a bad parent.
But I’m a good parent.
A damn good one.
If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to drive away from him, knowing he needs some time away, when all I wanted was to take him home and snuggle him tight.