Hard times

I’ve mentioned before that one of my sons is struggling. He is still struggling. One of the most difficult aspects of parenting is watching your kids struggle. It almost causes me physical pain. I would give everything I have if only it would make him better. I have actually given quite a lot to try to help him. It’s the main reason we moved him and his twin brother across the state at the beginning of the school year, it’s why I’m quitting my job to move with them, and it’s why I often wake up at 3:30 in the morning to try to google my way to a solution. I have missed numerous days of work and have been experiencing physiological manifestations of the unrelenting stress. I know something will eventually help his pain but he isn’t so sure. He continues to persevere and for that I am grateful. Yesterday, we had a momentary reprieve from the torrents of intensity so my husband, youngest son, and I snuck off to the gym. We dropped the 2nd grader off at the child care room and my husband and I climbed onto adjacent treadmills. We had the longest period of uninterrupted conversation in as long as I can remember. It was much needed for both of us. It was an incredibly difficult day but that 2 miles on the treadmill was certainly one of the highlights.

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