I'm tired. I'm depressed. I wake up every day searching for a good day. Every day I'm let down. The day gets utterly sucked away, quickly. Every day. Most days I want to curl up and hide. I'm beaten down. I'm losing. The struggle is sucking my every last drop of life.
My fucking kid is 13!
My fucking kid is 13.
Gone is everything decent and sweet and innocent and good. There is hate. And screaming. There are girls. And boys. It's all snarling and spitting. And fear. One moment my kid is thirteen. And the next? A creepy monster bitch with hair of fire (because her head exploded).
I prepared myself for this. Since the birth of my daughter 13 years ago I've been prepping myself for for this, this nasty puberty. It feels so free to type the word puberty. I can't say puberty or talk about puberty because I'm not allowed to use the "P" word in front of the 13 year old giiiirrlll. "OMG I'll die if you say that word" - whatever. The hysterics aren't worth it. I can write about it. You should listen.
There is no advice I can give. I cannot tell you what I do not know. I can share a few thoughts and feelings that might help you decide whether or not to buy condoms later tonight.
I feel...hated. It's not so much the "I hate you!" that rolls from her gaping blabber-hole on the daily - it's the look. The "don't even look at me or I will burst into flames" look. It slams the hate home. Straight into my guts.
I have been deserted. My child is no longer trying to crawl her ass back in the womb. I have wished for this day. I knew it would come. I was excited. I thought I was ready. I clearly was not. We are separated. I've been replaced with video games, computers, ipods, phones, and friiiieeeeends. I'm lonely.
There has not been a day, not one single day, that I haven't wanted to give up. My parenting is tested - Every. Single. Day. I am physically tired of arguing over every miniscule detail of every situation. I'm drained. I am turning gray. I am sad.
I am downtrodden. I'm positive I'm a failure as a parent and that I'm raising the next infamous serial killer. In my mind I'm sure that one morning when I ask if she wants eggs she'll reply by swallowing my head. This girl with black eyeliner and an attitude.
I'm completely uncomfortable. It's gross. Boys and giggly girlfriend drama sucked ass when I was a kid. I have zero desire to do this shit again! We average at least 1 awkward conversation per 12 hours. More on the weekends. More on bad days. More during pms. More on days that end with y.
It's terrifying. I'm afraid most days. I'm afraid to say the wrong thing, look the wrong way, or ask the wrong question. I am a complete bitch but this nasty, teeth gnashing witch scares the shit out of me. Horrified that I will have to listen to all that whining. It's scary. I hate it.
I'm way stupid. I mean, that's how I feel. That's how she makes me feel. "Mom, you wouldn't understand" - whatever. I know stuff. I can't help with physics homeowrk but I can make a helluva meatloaf and I can stand on 1 foot for a long time. I'm useful, damnit.
Watching my child's metamorphis from a little kid to to big asshole kid is not a good time. I go into every day with hope. I begin every day with understanding. I also end every day screaming "shut up, I'm done". It's okay. When my day ends like that it means we talked. I have that.
Teenage girls suck. But gang in there! Don't give up. IT GETS BETTER.I didn't think it would, but it does. My daughter and I did some serious scrapping ages 11-19 (when she ran a way to join the Navy), and we still butt heads sometimes. Stay strong, mama. She still loves you. Her brain has just shut down for a few years xoxo
If she's driving you crazy, she's doing her job. You just keep doing yours...you're doing it right💗
My mom called it the teenage tunnel. She says I entered it at 13 and then came out the other end at 18 a completely different (and much more pleasant) person. So, there's that.
I remember this shit with my stepdaughter.. she was also 13 when puberty hit. First boy crushes. Then the goth phase (including piercing her own eyebrow)then the hippie phase.. then a real boyfriend.. and now we are on the otherside.. she is 23.. getting her nursing degree.. moved out.. good boyfriend.. and we do lunch.. movies.. shopping just like when she was pre pubescent. It all circles arround.
Post a Comment