Our son arrived in wilderness safely, thank god. I was convinced something horrid was going to happen, like a plane crash and I was going to have to live with that the rest of my life. My rationale mind left the building months ago, and was secretly replaced with severe anxiety, anger, high stress, and just plain old crazy.
It seemed that neither he nor I could do anything in the emotional states we were each in. I look back and realize that we were at such odds that sharing the same physical space was killing both of us. He needed to be away from me, as much as I needed to be away from him. It was like the mere sight of each other brought us both rage and anger. The reality was we were both suffering from hurt and disappointment. It was sad for me, I was the adult, the parent, I should have never allowed it to get this far.
I was feeling guilty, numb, sad, and mostly frightened. The fear was not for his physical safety; he was strong I knew he could survive the elements. My fear was that of failure; his failure and my failure. What happens if this is all he gets in life? What happens if this is all I get as a parent?
I was exhausted, exhausted of being scared for him and of him. I was exhausted for covering up the realness of what our life was. I was exhausted from making excuses with my family. I was exhausted with trying not to be mad at him, myself, and anyone whom I came into contact. I just wanted to be left alone and go to sleep.
From the very beginning I realized this was not a kid problem, this was a family problem. We all needed to work on our stuff separately and then rejoin and work together. And with that realization for the first time in what seemed like forever, I felt like I could finally breathe.