I hate it here

I was thinking yesterday about my 13-year-old. My boys have different fathers. I’ve been married…and divorced…twice. Yeah. I’m totally great at the whole marriage thing.

But my 13-year-old lost his big brother in December 2022. He loved Bryce so much. They were almost 8 years apart and Bryce was SO EXCITED when I told him I was pregnant. He even wanted to come with me to my ultrasounds. He was there at the ultrasound when we found out it was a boy.

When I asked if he wanted a brother or a sister, he said “I want a brother because I have WAY too many sisters!”

Even with such a large age gap, they loved each other. Bryce loved helping take care of his brother. As they got older, Bryce sometimes helped take his brother places if I worked. He’d take the two of them to buy dinner. Carter loved his big brother so much. Looked up to him. Nearly idolized him.

Then 10 months after losing his big brother, Carter lost his dad to suicide. His dad wasn’t a particularly involved father. We divorced when Carter wasn’t quite 2 and he was inconsistent with seeing Carter. His wife caused drama. He caused drama.

But aside from all of that, he was still Carter’s father. It was yet another fracture in my child’s heart. The hope that he had of his dad someday actually being a dad was taken from him.

And now we’re back to yesterday. I was thinking about my poor 13 year old. I’ve had talks with him. Basic ones. But now he’s at the stage where puberty is hitting and a dad is usually there to talk to him. His first basic one had to come from mom. I gave Bryce the sex talk about talked about being safe and I can do the same with Carter but I know it can be embarrassing for boys to have mom talk about that stuff. What boy wants their mom to talk to them about this?

And now my poor kid doesn’t have his big brother who could have helped. He doesn’t have his dad who could have helped.

It’s no fucking wonder that his last 15 months have been hell and have been a battle of stabilizing depression and unraveling a ball of anxiety.

This is a part of grief that I don’t think people think about…the trickle down of how it affects every facet of your life. I feel like I am a hot mess all the time. I am broken. When you lose your child, you lose part of yourself. When his heart stopped beating, part of mine died too.

So I am a partial person with horrible depression, anxiety, and ptsd trying to function through my day to day life, work, school, and some semblance of “normal”, let alone trying to date. And while I wrestle all of that, I’m trying to help a new teenager through normal hormones, depression, anxiety, and the grief of losing both his brother and father in less than a year.

Fuck. Grief is a bitch and I’m sick of it. Sick and fucking tired. I hate it here. I want my life back. I want my Bryce back. I want my happy and carefree Carter back.