Burning...

Rage. Its climbed its way up the ranks of emotions to be one of the foremost things I feel lately. Boiling, churning, mad at the whole damned fricken universe. I want to smash things, throw things, just destroy things. Every time I see my boy laying in bed writhing in pain, I see red. I am so tired of watching him suffer! I want it to be over! I want him healed. I want the doctors we see to fu@#!#$ help him not be egotistical know nothing dickheads that write him off as depressed. Yes depressed. Hes 12 and hes already getting that shit. I want to rip the doctors face off. He has now poisoned the water to any other doctor who reads that report. That doctor had no idea what my son was like pre-misery. OF COURSE HES NOT GIGGLES AND LAUGHS YOU EGOTISTICAL PRICK,HES BEEN IN PAIN FOR A Flippen YEAR!!!!!!!!!!

It wasn't enough for my life to be ruined by illness. To watch everything I  had planned for the future ripped away. No that wasn't enough. I wasn't already barely able to manage handling that. It isn't enough for me to struggle agonizingly from one day to the next. No. Of course not. My son had to fall ill because, you know, I can totally handle it, no problem at all. Watching him suffer day after day, loose his life as he knew it, stop going to school, spending all day in his bed....yep easy peasy, no problem what so ever.

I swear to god I'm going to loose my mind, or have a heart attack. Tears and anger and sadness are boiling under the facade of normality that I wear at all times. Sobs just escape my throat before I can stop them, they are there so much of the time, bubbling up from my shattered heart. There are two tons of bricks sitting on my chest so I cant draw a breath. I'm living in a constant state of anxiety that if I don't keep under control leaves me a  crying, screaming, panicky mess. When I do control it, it still leaves me a panicky mess. Its something my body does well, over produces adrenaline so it takes any anxiety I have and runs away with it, leaving me a shaky, anxious bag of nerves laying in a fetal position trying to remember how to breathe. The times when it took over, snapping my mind and my control, I did scream and yell and clear counters violently, I was called a f'@#king baby. So now, on the outside I try not to show it. I push and push and push it down. I cry and rant and cry some more when I am alone. And that's what I am. Alone.

I even tried to pray again, because this is my son and I would walk through coals to help him. So I prayed to God to please, please, please heal my son. I told  Him I know you have reasons for not curing me, I stopped asking for that long ago, but now really my son???? Please God, please I beg you to heal him. A miraculous and total healing. Pretty please and Amen. Apparently His answer so far is the same one He gave me. If Hes even listening.

Watching your child suffer is excruciating. I am watching him slip away into that world of pain. He rarely smiles. He is a ghost of the child I knew before. I am worried he wont be able to handle it...I'm in constant fear that he will try to take himself out of it. I worry that nothing will help and this is his life now. I'm scared and sick that this is forming his personality for the rest of his life. I worry, I worry I worry. I cannot breathe.
And now I burn. I burn because there is nothing I can do. I burn because this is so unfair. I burn because I hate the world for doing this to us. I burn and smolder and cry. I wish for the end of the world. Because there is nothing else I can do.