My friend said to me last night, "You're surviving, and there's no wrong way to do that".
Twenty minutes later I was to be struck with the thought, "am I doing this right?", and that was hilarious to me in that moment. Tragic too. After all, feeling guilty for every decision I've ever made seems to have been hard-wired into me since birth.
With Kyd that is to be expected. Both because we all understand that a parent naturally questions her/himself if a child goes astray, and because some people believe how the child turns out is always the fault of the parent. Part of this culture WANTS me to feel guilty about it, and my "motherness" wants me to feel guilty about it, and my being me wants me to feel guilty about it.
It is impossible then for me not to feel guilty/responsible for Kyd so I've simply given up that fight. I accept that there may or may not be things I did or didn't do, might have done, shouldn't have done, and a complex combination of all of the above that could have changed the course of Kyd's life.
But that's not how the shit went down. The "what ifs" are playing out in parallel universes perhaps, but I am here and he is here, and we are where we are. In some crazy way this has allowed me to let go. I could be kidding myself, but I genuinely feel that I can offer up a blank slate "just for today" when it comes to Kyd most of the time. It's a relief.
With Roi, I don't accept feelings of guilt. When guilt comes knocking, I quadruple bolt the door and start shoving all the furniture up against it. Roi wants me to feel guilty. He wants me to believe that I hold 50% of the share of guilt. He tells me so in nearly those exact words.
It's wrong. I know it's wrong. As wrong as someone hitting me with a two-by-four and then blaming me for standing in the wrong spot at the wrong time.
But it's somehow standing in the way of my healing, of my leaving, of my gaining the strength needed for those two tasks. And I am terribly unsure of how to sort it out.