The weird thing is... I am not really angry about anything specific, but I just blew my top at my boys. And they weren't even particularly unruly and challenging... I just blew my top.
I'm not tired. Not hungry. I do have my period but I wasn't even crampy nor feeling off. But I still blew my top.
I think it's because of the news of a 7-year old girl who lived a street away from us... who was raped and killed. I don't have daughters but that's just so close to home. And such disturbing news made me realize yet again how little I do have control over. And maybe I panicked inside... reacting so negatively to the news that a simple insistence by a baby to play some more brought out a raging storm in me.
I couldn't have put it more clearly for my eldest to stay away... scared I might hurt him for something he didn't do. For something that will never be his fault.
We just talked... and I profusely apologized. Suffice it to say, we also both cried.
I do not want to parent in fear. And I want to keep trusting this world will help me take care of my sons. But the crazy thing is, the minute you lose faith that things will be alright, you also start messing up the good things that are.
I had a friend whose sister was raped and killed just 2-3 minutes away from their house.
I had a friend who was killed by the bf she found on FB.
I had a colleague whose son got killed in an FB scam gone wrong.
These are all so terrible and tragic and you cannot help but feel so bad for the victims, for their families... and rage for the perpetrators.
And yet... there is that part of you that also can't help but thank God that it wasn't you, your brother, your child. But even in that kind of gratitude, there is a bitter taste in your mouth. Because a lot of crimes happen in random... and it may very well be you next.
And how... how can a mother surrender her children to a grand design that may mean heartache and loss?
Yes... I know, I am dwelling. I will say prayers now.