Disclaimer: I’m having a pretty rough couple of days emotionally. So much so that I’ve had to invoke the 24 hour rule (I get one day where I don’t have to do anything but feed the children so I can cry, complain to God, and just sit there and sort through all my messy feelings).
There’s been a lot going on the last two days that I’ve had to feel and think about. My emotional pile was teetering pretty precariously, and then it finally fell over this morning with one of those blog posts. The one that my timeline is just cluttered with. Another parent of a special needs child that can see past the needs to all the potential that their child has. A parent who says their child is better off because of the way they are.
I just can’t do it.
I don’t have that in me. I always look at those posts and wonder if the people who write them really mean it, or if it’s just something they say to encourage themselves, to keep them going. Or maybe they really do mean it, and I haven’t gotten there yet, but either way they usually leave me feeling worse, not better. Don’t get me wrong, that kind of thing is good, it helps people know and understand, particularly if they don’t have a special needs person in their life. I just haven’t been able to find it encouraging myself.
I think I know what the problem is. I haven’t found my silver lining. I totally and completely believe that my life and my children’s lives were lovingly crafted and ordained by God and are full of purpose and destiny, but today is the day when I’m feeling all the dark things. That when I look at my children I don’t see kids enjoying life but disabilities that need managing. I see the therapies and the schedules and the changes in communication and all the hard work. I see children I invest enormous amounts of physical and emotional energy into who are unable to reciprocate. I see a lot the dreams and expectations I had when I was all excited about parenting now heaped into the pile of things I have to let go of and mourn.
Maybe it’s my Asperger’s, the fact that when I feel one way about something it becomes the rule, the way I always feel about something, but that’s how I feel about my kids all the time. I see them this way every day. Most days I’m more optimistic about our prospects, and days like today when it all comes crashing down on me are few and far apart, but it’s still how I see my children on a daily basis, and it makes me sad. I don’t know if it makes me a bad mom. I hope not, maybe it just means I’m human, but I’m going to admit something here that I’m afraid to say out loud. I don’t really enjoy my kids most of the time. I love them, I truly do, and I treasure the rare moments when there’s a snuggle that doesn’t involve physical pain from being too close to a restless, SPD body and the few times I’ve written about recently when we seem to have a normal experiences, but even those are bittersweet. And then my mourning process starts all over again. The tremendous amount of effort it’s going to take to help my children achieve their potential scares me. Again, I know it’s a good thing because it brings me closer to God, but let’s be honest, it’s still pretty scary and overwhelming.
I know this is a messy, dark, rambling post that doesn’t sound like my usual self. I’m not even going to edit it all that much. I will be back to myself tomorrow. The 24 hour rule ends tonight. But this is the underbelly of being a special needs mom, and sometimes it’s really ugly. I’ve been crying the entire time as I write this because it really hurts today.
I believe that God has plans that promise me a future and a hope, but I also believe in being real with people, and today this is my reality.
P.S. I have to thank Nate who is an amazing person. He has stepped up to the plate and taken charge of the kids and everything since all I can do this morning is sit and cry. I appreciate you, Honey, and I promise I’ll be back soon.