I haven’t written much. I haven’t written at all, in the past couple weeks. I can barely muster enough mental energy to work on my photography.
I went back to work post-emergency surgery 2 weeks ago. I feel like my brain is in a constant state of exhaustion, my thoughts stuck in molasses.
If its not Thing 1 pulling out her hair, its Thing 2 trying on new names. If its not a clean clothes pile quickly approaching Everest heights, its something else taking over another barely-visible piece of the counter (instead of being put away properly….which would be so much easier in the long run).
If it is not therapy, its therapy. If its not a doctors appointment, its a midnight asthma attack. If its not pneumonia, its allergies. If is not constant misunderstandings, its constant anger.
Constant anger. I don’t even know why. Maybe I am angry bc I am in the same spot in the journey as thing 2….but no one else is. Maybe anger is my grief. Maybe I got so worked up that even though I told everyone I would respect where they are in their journey with thing 2 – I went in to full blown mama wolf mode and had to protect my cub at all times. No matter the cost.
The cost? A cloud of stress, that is held together by angry duct tape and super glue – hard to penetrate.
And Thing 1 has been internalizing that stress. And that anger. And she lost whatever little control she had over her anxiety and OCD and ADHD. All because of me.
All because of me. All. Because. Of. Me.
I spend countless hours reading research after research. I read strangers’ stories to see if something they did might work for us. I stay awake late at night wondering how to implement any number of strategies. I constantly worry about what triggers I am missing or what may show up tomorrow. I go to appointment after appointment. I make the phone calls. I fight with the drs. I connect the dots. And I am exhausted. And I am angry.
And that is not doing any one any good.
Thing 1 is going thru something major too. She is experiencing a journey that no 8.5 year old should ever have to comprehend. On a grander scale – this is a journey that even adults find difficult to swallow.
But for her – this journey is about love. Sweet, pure, innocent love. That’s all she knows. She knows she will always love Thing 2. She just feels all the stress coming from the adults that aren’t swallowing this journey as smoothly as she is. But She is not just experiencing the journey for Thing 2. She is battling her own demons.
And I am struggling. I am struggling so hard with how to connect with her right now. How to get thru to her that she is amazing just the way she is. That she is perfect and wonderful. That she is smart and fierce.
The journey with her – is tough for anyone to see. But for me as a parent that spends an infinite amount of trying to connect the dots and find the solutions – it physically and emotionally hurts.
This is an epic journey for the record books. And I am not handling it well. I didn’t realize I wasn’t handling it well. I take responsibilities for my shortcomings. But not this time.
No. This time – I wanted to blame it on other people not loving my children. I wanted to blame it on them for not believing in me knowing what is best for my children. I was angry that they didn’t have confidence in me as a human.
But the truth is – they do. I hope. But they just aren’t ready for that mental shift yet. And I need to respect that. Nobody is handling this transition well. But in the long run – it must happen. I hate change. But this change – it is inevitable.
So I am going to take a step back. I am going take a deep breath.
I need to re-examine my priorities as a parent. I need to get back on track with where we were pre-surgery. Bedtime stories. Papa’s Porch Videos. An hr a day of cleaning.
Life pre-surgery – was working. It was great
Life post-surgery – not so great. I may be braver. But I am so angry.
Anger is my road block. There is no reason for me to be angry. Well, ok, there are a few reasons. But I need to figure out how to handle my anger so that I can be fully present for my children. Bc their journeys – are way too big to handle alone.