Some days, I just can’t make sense of anything

On September 11th of 2001, my adorable 3 year old was in our living room watching some children’s show or movie, while I stood in the kitchen and watched live coverage of the plane that crashed into the World Trade Center tower. I thought it was an accident. As I watched, the second plane hit, the one that killed my neighbor’s daughter, and I knew, instantly, that our country was under attack. My first thought was really a fear that ran right through me. What kind of screwed up world had I brought my innocent little child into? I wondered what kind of attacks would follow and how much fear would enter her life because of it. In March of 2007, 2 months before her ninth birthday, Tim was in ICU with sepsis. Three days after he was admitted, we found out he had cancer. I had to break that news to him and our daughter. I will never forget seeing the pain come over her face and regretting my words immediately. Again, I wondered if I brought this child into the world only to feel fear and heartache. I knew part of her childhood ended that day and her life would never be the same. Then, of course, we had the huge issues with Tim’s family, which also traumatized her and really let her down. Nothing like watching your “support system” back out on you and leave you to fend for yourselves when tragedy hits. On Sept. 4th of this year, we dropped our heart off at college, 70 miles away. There were many reasons we chose this college, and its safety record was one of them. Within a few weeks, our sweet girl was hiding in her room on lockdown, due to a supposed clown sighting. The next day, a cop ran into her English class screaming to evacuate. They did not tell them why and, in this day and age, their first thought was a gunman. My kid was petrified and thought she was going to die. It turned out someone had smelled gas in that building. Would have been nice if the cops said that, instead of making them think the worst. Well, tonight, the worst. My kid called us, she was on lockdown due to a gunman on campus. 2 girls had been robbed at gun point walking through this tunnel they built under the road so kids don’t have to cross the street that runs through campus. I am 70 miles away and my kid and her roomy are cowering under the roommate’s bed. Some girls in her dorm left their rooms to talk to the RA, whose room is right across the hall from Liv, to see what was going on. My kid was going to go check too. Apparently these kids don’t understand the concept of LOCK DOWN. I said, “you don’t go out into the hall during a lockdown!!! You stay in your room behind your locked door!” Then someone comes screaming through the hall, telling those girls to get back in their rooms, NOW. The freaking gunman was in their building!!!! ON THEIR FLOOR!!! Eventually, we get word that they have him. He’s a student. A 6’7″ 270 pound psycho that plays on the football team and just walked right by the three of us when we were visiting Liv on Saturday. She told us his name and told us he plays football. What’s worse, my kid became friends with guys who live across the hall from him and she and her girlfriends where hanging out in that room until 4 am the other day and have been hanging there several nights in a row. The cops got him in his room and her friends heard them screaming at this kid. So, once again, I ask myself what kind of screwed up world I brought this child into. And, I’m mad. Really angry. Did I bring this kid into the world to experience nothing but heartache and fear and evil? I’m sick of it. SICK OF IT. Things were just getting great for her at school. She and her roommate are not a great match and she really had to push herself to find friends. Her world just got really great in the last 2 weeks and she’s a new person. She did NOT need this to happen to ruin it. I just want to grab my family and move somewhere where this stuff doesn’t happen. But, I realized I don’t know where that is. I’m sick of fear and heartache. I’m sick of knowing that my child does not remember what it’s like to have a normal life. She has lived in fear for as long as she can remember, thanks to her dad having MM and now this violent world we live in. I just can’t deal with this sometimes. I’m tired of a life of pain and fear. Just tired of it all. I wanted her to have a good life, like every parent does. How do you craft a good life out of all this crap?