When boys become men, in search of happiness

It has been a really hard week. Certainly a crash and burn one. The physical toll has been immense, I ache to a level that I can find insufficient drugs for and I have lost 7 pounds. I have achieved nothing of any note and yet when I look back over the course of the last few days, I am stunned that not only have I survived it but at how much there has been to deal with.

This is the week in which I discover there is something potentially up with one of my beautiful boys. Not life threatening, but most certainly life changing and the implications of which do not bear thinking about. So I have tried not to. I have promised him that no matter what life throws at him, there is always a way of dealing with it, just perhaps in a different way than he assumes it will be.

Then I face the recognition that I am a little emotionally screwed. This has been a little tricky but since a lifelong pattern has not worked, the only thing to do is to change it. This in itself is no easy task but hey, I like a challenge.

It has been a watershed week in so many ways,. Inbetween all the revelation, discovery and heartache I have had to work, sort the house out and continue with both work and the business plan (and boy did that slide this week).

Having realised just how my own patterns of behaviour are based in not truly believing in love, I thought I had better check with one of the many sons that he felt loved.

"Do you feel loved"? Say I

"Of course" say's he

"I want you to know that you should never change your self to be loved by others, that you are beautiful person just the way you are" say I

"You are not really like other Mothers, are you?" say's he

(No shit, Sherlock) thinks I

"Are you happy"? I continue

"Not really" he say's "It's school"

My heart pounds, I feel alarm that if he admits to being unhappy then it must be bad, and gratitude that he feels able to raise an issue with me.

"What's up"

He looks at the floor, then looks up at me with his beautiful blue eyes

"It starts too early, finishes too late and I really hate going on a Monday"

The male ability to leave me utterly speechless starts a lot younger than I thought.