Tag Archives: lgbtq

Your Pain is My Pain, My Darling.

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…I wonder if he can feel me thinking of him. Does he sleep? Does he finally sleep well? Sleep for him is an epic battle in the dark of every night. Is he cold? I hope he’s not cold.

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…I wonder how many people in my life truly know what it’s like to live every day with someone who fights for the will to live? Is it….four friends? Twenty? Over a hundred? Or am I the only one? I’m sure I can’t be the only one. I wish it wasn’t anyone ever. When people ask me how I am doing, I say, “Fine. How are you?” But I want to SCREAM…

“MY CHILD IS NOT OK. I AM NOT OK.”

I’ll just keep on trying to hide so no one asks me how I’m doing.

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…he is alone because he turned 18. The last time he was in the hospital, I could be there with him, at least for awhile. Now, apparently, he is old enough to vote, get a tattoo and to handle his grief and despair alone in isolation.

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…I sit in the dark, wrapped in the fuzzy purple blanket that makes me feel better, but I think it’s broken. I have my phone next to me, waiting for news, any news; something that will help me with our grief and despair. I ask at no one in the dark, “Why can’t my child be ok?” No one answers. I have barely slept and grief is tiring and it also keeps you awake. Tomorrow, I will not have a good day, no matter how you look at it. I have to work, I have to smile, I have to pretend I’m fine. It’s exhausting for my child to get through a day and it’s exhausting for me to try to help him get through a day. He deserves to get through a day. At least tomorrow he will have another day. I wish I could suck up all his pain because I would wear it for him always.

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…I wish he could see the one million bright and lovely things I see when I look at him. How much he is loved. How dark life would be without him.

To him I want to send a message in a bottle…As if life isn’t hard enough, as if our world isn’t fucked up enough, as if my tank isn’t on empty enough, I still will always fight…and I will always Coldplay you, my darling.

“Lights will guide you home
And ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you”

In the wee small hours of this morning, while my child sits alone in a mental hospital…I would give all of everything to go back and have him swaddled in my arms. Safe, happy and sleeping like a baby.

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