there is an ugly truth I live with.
There are times when the thought of going to see my kids makes me sick. Physically ill from anxiety.
I can't find the strength to first call the house...get in the car and drive over to see the boys.
I can't do it.
Sometimes I can grit my teeth and force it. I'm on edge the whole time.
Agony.
I'm hoping if I can articulate what is going on in my head...
I can master this demon.
There were whiffs of it when we were still in the trenches. The day to day battle.
We had a steady stream of dread.
first sounds of waking up
first thing to grab are the lanyard with the house keys
checking to see who woke up with a dry bed
the scramble for clothes
feeding
cleaning
scramble for school stuff
checking the clock
panic for quiet sounds
checking the clock
trying to brush a tooth or two
one bus honking
make sure the other kid is secure before taking first one to the bus...board/harness/crossed fingers
knowing that the harness is useless after first 10 minutes
Run back to house
prep for other bus...socks shoes...backpack
everything hand over hand
trying to support our kids in doing for themselves but that doesn't cut the mustard when there is a 2 minute window between the bus honking and the bus taking off sans kiddo.
now kiddo 3 is off to school on scooter.
Time watching till the first bus comes back.
Avoiding work because it feels useless and redundant. I think I lump all my frustrations about the lack of progress with our therapies in with everything else on my plate. There is nothing separate in our lives. It is all about solving the problem.
year after year after year after year.
the afternoon dread of knowing what was coming always hung in the air...
every day waiting for the aides to arrive
every day juggling their requests, necessary interruptions, the tantrums, the neighbors noise tolerance, the food, the noise, the worry,
every day is work day and there are two things to dread:
1. Sunday
2. any day you get the phone call that the therapists can't come.
3. national holidays that the therapists can't come
checking the clock before therapy is over
dreading dinner because that is hand over hand for each kid with number 3 watching
juggling the night time routine. showering each by hand, dressing, getting to bed, redirecting to bed
finding 3 minutes for typical boy
collapsing into bed and ticking through the laundry list of stuff that didn't get done. Ticking through the dreads for the next day.
year after year after year
hour after hour after hour
and all of it haunts me.
all of it is a barrier
all of it is between us
all of it keeps me from being ok
all that work, all that time, all those hours, pain,
everything that we gave up to keep our program in place
every vacation we couldn't take
the outings we couldn't enjoy
I only get a short time on this earth.
I only get my kids for a moment.
I feel entitled to be proud and without any hard feelings
but I feel bruised...battered....worn down...beaten up....strung out...
a shattered shell
unable to enjoy life
Tonight there is an event at church. The annual trunk or treat party for our church .I don't want to go. i don't want to go and answer questions and meet new people.
Battle fatigue
Guy has been happy to take the boys out on his own. He would probably do it tonight if I would ask him.
The nagging voice in my ear is this: you SHOULD want to do this. you SHOULD do this whether you like it or not.
I"m planning their birthday party. isn't that enough?
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