One of Those Days

Some days I just feel that I am lacking the mother gene. I am being brutally honest here. I hope I won't be judged, but I realize that's probably hoping for too much. My nearly 11 year-old son is overly emotional. He always has been. He cried excessively as a toddler and he hasn't stopped since. I'm sure it has something to do with ADHD/OCD/Tourettes/twice-exceptionalism. Right now I don't really care. It wears me out. It's the most amazing thing: dealing with him has a physiological effect on me. I can feel myself getting completely exhausted. I can feel myself getting drained. All of a sudden there's nothing left.

After he's crazy-made me for the hundredth time. After he's been disrespectful toward me. After he's done whatever he needs to do to make his brain happy. Then he comes weeping over to me telling me he's sorry. Today he told me, "When I act like that toward you, I feel like we're two positives or two negatives and I hate that." He's talking about batteries, of course, and how they repel each other. When he's dripping tears and snot all over me, I want to feel sorry for him, but I only feel sorry for myself. This happened yesterday. It happened today. It will happen tomorrow. He's always sorry. I know he can't help some of it. I hate myself for not feeling more compassion for him. Tonight when I'm in bed suffering from insomnia one of the things keeping me up will be my guilt that I don't love him enough (or, more accurately, that I don't show him enough love - I do love him enough. I don't doubt that.).

Still, he's rebounded. I'm writing this on the verge of tears and he's throwing clean laundry around the living room with the other kids. How and when will I know how much of this nonsense really affects him?