That was me about three days ago. I was done. Over and over again I hear myself telling others how I am hopeful of Xavier's current treatment. I put on that positive attitude, smile and say it's going to be ok, it's just going to take time. I hear the words leave my mouth, but inside I don't believe them. It's a canned phrase now - you know the one people want to hear. They don't want to hear me say life really sucks. The days are painful, literally, having to carry around a 70 pound boy and up and down stairs. The nights are even worse when the emotional pain comes pouring out of all the little cracks inside where we tried to tuck it away during the day. All the fears, all the anger, and all the exhaustion. Three days ago Xavier said he forgets now what it even feels like to run. My now 7-year-old son who once took kickboxing and could keep up to his sister kicking a soccer ball around, hasn't been able to run since last July. Some days he c
A journal of my life and the stories of those around me. A novel in the making.