I don't have a ton to say about this, but was just recently reminded of something our shrink shared. I think I had been going on to her about some of the stuff Tesfu was directing my way- hurtful words, actions, stuff like that. I'm fairly certain it had been a tricky ass week, although I can't remember any of the details. I recall being confused and torn by it all... wondering what it was I needed to be doing differently to help my son feel trust and safety.
"Ingrid," she said, "you are your son's greatest threat."
I think I swallowed hard. Maybe even gulped. I'm quite certain that my eyes changed shape and I considered dunking my face in a bucket of cold water.
My dad took off when I was three. Not to be seen or basically heard from again until I was in my 20's. Now that I think about that... as I think about my relationship with my son... as I think about his relationship with me... as I think about my relationships with father figures... it begins to make sense.
What she said wasn't meant to scare me, it was said to make this chapter a bit more clear.
What I want for Tesfu to believe, to know, to trust, is that I'm here for the long run. That I'm not going anywhere. That I am his. I am not leaving.
That not matter how much he pushes against me, I'm not budging.
I know what it's like to have someone leave when you need them with every inch of your heart and soul. I can empathize with that brokenness.
Unlike me and how I handled it all while growing up, Tesfu makes his displeasure known. He's not so much interested in making me believe that everything is okay, even when it's not. My boy's not going to pretend. He's not going to sacrifice himself to make sure that I stick around. At least while he's three.
Things are going to change. They are bound too. But right now? He's being honest. His words. His actions. Honest. And I so respect that (even though I struggle with it as a parent). He's scared as hell that I'm going to leave. That attachment to another mama is going to end in pure heartache. If something happened, if I left, he would feel it all again. Broken. Lonely. Afraid. Plus more. Much, much more.
I get it. And it's okay.