I am here today to write a blog that has been living in my heart. No advice, no amusing quips, no cute pictures to post on Facebook…
This just me and a small yet gigantic part of who I am.
If you are having a hard day already, this blog might be better read at another time. There will be no details given but the topic is heavy.
March 1st is a day that haunts me. It is the day that I lost my son Marcus.
Let me take that back. I need to start using the right words.
It is the day my son was murdered.
This is the day that haunts my days and my dreams.
This day is not the reason why I developed DID (dissociative Identity Disorder), nor is it the day that caused my Complex PTSD. Those were already within me and caused by my childhood, but that said? This is the day that took what was left of my mental health and crushed it.
I never use the word “murdered”. It just sounds so horrible. It also starts the questions… Who? What? Where? When? Why? Was the person caught? Was she persecuted? Most people actually assume it was a “he” and I don’t bother to correct them. Admitting it was a “she” only opens up to more questions that are painful and downright impossible to answer. This person still lives free as a bird and although I have to believe for my own sanity that there is a deep down part in her that feels horribly about this, my intuition knows otherwise.
Under all the questions is my heart. A heart that is trying to grapple with the truth of that day. Not only the loss of my son but the loss of all belief that my world could ever be a good one. Trust died right then and there.
This day for me is not an easy one. I don’t normally ever talk about it to anyone but over the past 3 years, I have begun to take the shame and secrecy away from it all. I first had to learn that it was not my fault.
I think every mother feels total responsibility for their child and we protect them fiercely. How many saying are there about not getting between a mamma and her cubs? Even when there is absolutely nothing we can do to change or fix a situation, we still feel that somehow, we should have been able to. I did not only feel this to be true, I believed it with my whole heart. I seemed to have forgotten that I was just young and that I had no say AT ALL in what happened to me or my child. None.
And I was dealing with a monster willing to do unspeakable acts to protect her reputation from being tarnished in any way.
So today… for Marcus and for myself, I am taking down my walls and showing you my heart. A heart that feels very battered and bruised today.
I do not do this for sympathy. I do it because I know that others will understand. It may not be a murder. It could be any major trauma that lives within your heart. Besides Marcus and his story, there is physical, sexual, emotional, neglectful abuse that lives right alongside him. Anyone who harbours any of these issues within their heart will understand.
Compassionate and empathetic friends and family will try to feel it too.
I appreciate anyone who tries.
Most people do not/can not. 😦
For my son Marcus. With love. Your Mom.