The Counselor

I wish I had never been born.

I never want to see you again.

You didn't do a good job of protecting me from daddy.

You're not a good mom.

I don't want to eat.

I hate my life.

I wish I was still in your stomach.

I never wanted to see anyone ever again except for you.

I wish was dead.

I just want to be buried under the dirt like Pappa.

I don't want to eat ever again.

I don't want to live with you.

I didn't ask to be born.

I am never going to be happy again.

I didn't want to be born.

I didn’t want to have a mom and dad.

I don't even want to see grandma again.
These are the things my son tells me when I pick him up from school and take him and his sister for lunch. He has slid into what seems to be a horrible depression.

He says all those things again and again and again for an hour until I am crying and finally decide to give up on him eating lunch.

When we get in the car and I turn on the ignition, I ask him again if he wants a hug. He runs up to me from the very back seat of our giant Suburban and gives me a giant hug.

I ask him what that was all about and he says he does not know.

I say you just feel really sad? He says yes and starts crying again.

I offer him his lunch again and this time he takes it, eating it up in the back seat.

Suddenly his mood is cheerful a d he begins to talk about his friends at school.

Hours later he is happy and talks about wanting to go camping. But I am still deeply saddened and upset. I can't bounce back that fast. I feel nauseous. I could cry at any minute. I want to go lie down and stay in bed but I have too much to do. My children need me and I need to somehow wake my brain up.

I call his counselor when I am alone and repeat what I can of the conversation back to her. By this time, I am sobbing and can barely repeat some of his statements. Such terrible things to come out of the mouth of a 6-year-old.

She tells me she wants me to come in with him to his appointment tomorrow, and asks if I can get a babysitter for my daughter, who is 3 and too disruptive to bring with us.

My mom, bless her, is always available when I need her to help with the kids. She meets us at the school the next day and we all go to lunch. When we are walking to the car, my son tells me that I am doing a better job of being his mom today. I ask him what he means by that and he says that I am protecting him better from his dad. He tells my mom and me that he is scared of his dad.
When we walk into the counselor’s office, my son has a very hard time sitting still. She says she is going to ask him some questions because his mom had called her very concerned about him. She asks him if he knows why.

He squirms around and forms a little ball on her couch.

Finally he says that he wants me to tell her what he said yesterday. And so I start repeating some of the statements he made.

He tells the counselor that he is scared of his dad and she asks him why.

At first he says it is because he chews tobacco and he is scared that it is going to hurt him.

Then he talks about me protecting him from his dad, but he won’t say from what, or what he is scared of.

He fidgets terribly. He goes to her desk and starts to play with something on it. We have to ask him repeatedly to sit down.

He says, “these are just really hard questions you’re asking me.”

He tells her that he likes me to protect him from his dad and for me to make him feel better.

She asks, “Does your dad ever do anything to make you feel better?” and he says No.

He tells her that his dad is always yelling at me.

I feel like I can’t breathe and I wonder what I have done to this little boy by staying.

All this time, I have felt like if I left his dad, I would be destroying his little life.
Now I’m wondering which is worse?