Writing my life out on the pavement

I’ve written my memories down and no one has really seen them. I used this platform as a way to air out some of my confessions to the world, in hopes that someone would know what I’ve been through. But why has that been a motive for me? Some only wish to rid themselves of their past, their thoughts, so they can move on and no longer dwell on what could have been.

That just isn’t me.

This past weekend I was confronted with the idea that a 15 year old girl may have taken her own life. I say “idea” because I do not know this to be a fact. But this has made me think a lot in the past 48 hours. I question my life, my actions, my thoughts and my behavior. My son just turned 16 4 days ago and as much as I can say that I am beyond thrilled to have a 16 year old, I am as equally terrified that I’m not enough. Enough to shield and protect him from the chaos of this world.

With the stories I have written, I have only ever thought of myself; of my own thoughts. But what of the thoughts of my son? Is he happy? Does he see himself as enough? Has he gone through any trauma? How can I ever know if he is ok? Do I ask? Will he answer me? Will he be honest? Or will he hide behind the facade of “I’m ok, mom. Everything is ok.”

I’ll never know and that terrifies me more than anything in the world.