Saturday, June 17, 2017

MY HEAD IS POUNDING.

DISCLAIMER: This is not a sponsored post.



My head is pounding. It has been pounding since the end of April. I knew Simon's IEP was coming up and my body automatically goes into survival mode. I wish I could turn it off. I wish I could have a piece of certainty in my pocket to take out whenever I need it... Alas, uncertainty is served in a silver platter every single day when it comes to my son. But I refuse to see us as victims. The last thing I would ever want to teach our child is to be or feel like one. I just wish I knew what was coming...

We meet again with the current team. The one he has been with the past 1-2 years. We also meet a single person from the receiving team. Where is everyone else? My head starts pounding. My anxiety starts soaring. I start looking for all the escape routes. Where is everyone else? A knot starts forming in my throat, my stomach starts to churn. Dammit! The IEP tells us what to expect in regards to his educational plan, his academic goals... but it doesn't tell us the new teachers' personalities or whether they will be compatible with our son or whether there will be a bully in class that will harass my son or if he will make, at least, one single friend. An IEP is just a piece of paper. A written plan. An idea of what to look for. Sometimes I wish it was a lifelong solution.

My head is pounding. I am smiling. I understand where he is at and where he is going, but my heart is completely wrenched. I can't be there to make sure everything is perfect. It wasn't perfect in the beginning either... heck! It's never been perfect. I feel like I am slowly drowning. I don't want him to drown with me. I want him to succeed. I want him to learn, to grow, to go so far past the point we ever went we simply can't reach him. I want him to be Einstein. I want him to be a miracle. I want him to be a genius. Stop. You need to talk to somebody... I don't have anybody to talk to. No one will listen. Even when they listen, they don't understand. So, I cry. I cry myself to sleep. I cry when I shower. I hide after everyone goes to bed and cry. Because it's the only thing I can do at the moment. All I can do is cry... and wait. My least favorite pastime: waiting. Being patient is not in my nature. Yet here I am, Mother of the Year, waiting. Being patient. Hoping I am worrying about nothing. I am hoping he will have a great year.

My head is pounding. My eyes swollen. I read somewhere that "the best way to get rid of anxiety is to write down what's on your mind" [insert sarcasm here]. So, here you have idiot me writing to stop the churning that's been happening in my brain for the past two months. Because... screaming is impolite. Screaming is only something people who aren't sane do. I am surrounded by a sea of people and I still feel so alone. Can anybody hear me?! I don't think anyone can... I don't think anyone is willing to... Because people who cry when they talk look ugly. It's uncomfortable and ugly is unacceptable in society. Feelings get buried and the automatic emotional blockade comes up. God forbid you share how shitty you feel with the world. We become reason for either pity or gossip or both. And honestly, who the fuck needs that?!

My head is pounding. I'm tired of people looking at us like we are broken, like we are less than, like we don't belong, like we are garbage. We don't need another sorry look from our friends & family when he doesn't answer like other children do. We don't need another disgusted look from strangers when he has a meltdown because his schedule is off or because he is hungry. I've come to the conclusion that we don't matter. We never did. We never will. So, we close our doors and our hearts to the possibility of a REAL TRUE friendship because it will simply hurt too much to see 'that' look on their face yet again...

My head is pounding. Anger. It always comes back to anger. And I am so TIRED of feeling angry for my family and for my son. Because he deserves the world. Maybe even the universe. Just like your neurotypical child...

My head is pounding. Our youngest son has officially caught on that his brother is different and his poor little soul is just as confused as we the adults are. But he loves him. He loves his brother so dearly. But he doesn't want to be like him anymore because he knows now something is off. Shit! How do I explain all of this to him?! He's only four!

My head is pounding. I'm officially exhausted. And we haven't even gotten started. We haven't even officially ended this school year since he's in Summer school at the moment... I'm out of tears. This is the end of this chapter. There will be more chapters. There will be more tears. There will be more anxiety. But, tonight, I wrote it all down in hopes that it does, in fact, get rid of everything on my mind. I wish to release all the negative so I can accept all the positive. Because I am blocking my happy, our happy. We need to laugh more, work more, not give up more, love more... and actually open up our doors and our hearts more and once again with high hopes that we won't see 'that' look in someone's face. High hopes that he will actually make a great friend for life that will understand.

yes. my head is still pounding. just a little less...