It's All Not Going To Be "OK"

I like to keep it real around here.  None of this motivational crap.  Why? Because, that is not my life.

That is not the life of many parents who have children with special needs.  I may have moments where I see the successes of hard work, but those moments are often over shadowed with, well, the work. Yes, Emmeline can walk. But only after HOURS and HOURS of PT. Hours and hours of hearing her cry during sessions, walking halls, stretching muscles and walkers. Hours of me crying... and that's just for walking.  We have fought and clawed our way to get Emmeline where she is today and we fight and claw to get her where she is going.

It's dirty, hard work.  The weight of it settles in your chest like a brick.   If you aren't dealing with an acute situation or the fall out afterward, you are planning your next therapy or doctor appointment, surgery or IEP meeting etc. Then there is the constant nag of what's to come.  The worry and fear of "what if" or "will she".  Of trying not to focus on it too hard or you suddenly find it hard to breath.

It's real and it's every day.

I made it 9 years and 1 day.

The camels back had not just broken, but exploded. Filling out the depression and anxiety survey was harder than I thought.  It felt like each box I ticked was a tick mark of my failure. All the ways I wasn't tough enough.  All the ways I could have done better. The doctor listened and created a treatment plan. I left with a scrip for D and A meds and was asked to come back in 2 weeks.

I hate the meds.  I cry all the time.  If the meds are supposed to make me feel normal, does that mean a normal person would cry all the time if they lived my life?... Part of me wishes they don't work, because if they work then I'll need them. I don't like to 'need' things. The need just creates the fear of it eventually not being there and then what will I do?  I need it.

I remember one day asking Josh, "Do you think it's my anxiety that makes me thing every time I stop the car someone is going to run up and try to break in?" His response?  "Well, it's not, not your anxiety."

I mean, do they really expect 2 pills to help with that mind? That's just the tip of the iceberg. Maybe I'm just doing this to prove that I'm a hopeless case of sad and rage but since I get the job done that should be OK.

I live in constant fear of the unknown.  Fear that this will be the last time I put my daughter to bed. Fear that she will never be independent.  Fear that she may not be able to have children.  Fear that she wont be able to get married.  Fear that people will be mean to her. Fear that this bout of Pneumonia will be THE one. Fear that Isabella will one day have to take responsibility for my choices. It goes on and on...

Why do people think it's not OK to think you are playing a really shitty hand? And just let that sit. Why do they feel compelled to find the silver lining?  Sometimes it just sucks! I'm allowed to think that, given that I'm living it. You'll give me some pep talk and then go on your merry way.  It's all still there. It doesn't lighten the load. It's OK to be mad that it's not OK.