Posts Tagged ‘kids’

Because of the Dad’s

June 21, 2015

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I am the daughter of an amazing dad, I was the granddaughter of an incredible grandfather.
I am now a wife to my sons first hero, and my daughters first love.

More often than not, dad’s are the behind the scenes parents. They don’t get near the recognition we mom’s do, or that they deserve.

I grew up, and continue to be surrounded by, strong, kind, funny, and compassionate dad’s . Yes my dad (dad’s, because now I have two thanks to my husband) and husband, but my circle of great dad’s is full: my brother, Uncle’s, grandpa, family friends.

I truly believe that because I was surrounded by such strong dad influences, I knew what a good man was and I knew when I had one.
As time marched on, and with having our children, the amazing list of dad’s was extended to my children.

Often when faced with chronic illnesses in children (especially in disorders with stereotypes and stigmas) parents differ on how these deal, handle or cope. We (men and women) are wired differently, us mom’s tend to become more emotional and consumed, and we talk more, a lot more. That’s not to say that dad’s don’t feel the same losses, stresses etc, they just deal handle and cope differently. In our case that usually means my husband levelling me out, calming me down and standing strong while I crumble while dealing with whatever it is that needs to be dealt with as well.
It’s often mom at the forefront, at appointments, meetings etc. I think I’ve attended one meeting alone. And I’ve never had to drive alone to a critical appointment. I am not alone in being my children’s parent, ever.

I think of the hospital stays dude has had, when my husband did the drop offs alone because I found it to hard, where almost every day dude had a visit from papa, uncle’s (and aunts) checking in and delivering books and treats. I think of the support, love and uninhibited acceptance the dad’s in our lives give him. How I am often amazed at how those dad’s just get him.  How all of these grown “guys guys” will be soft when needed. They don’t judge, they don’t question, they accept what is, and because of that, my son has amazing role models in fatherhood.

I think of our daughter and how blessed she is to have all of these men surrounding her.
Watching her bond with her dad is one of the most incredible gifts I’ve been given. He truly is her best friend and he her biggest fan. How it’s usually her dad or papa not missing a game, and always there cheering her on.
With so many wonderful men, there’s no wonder why she’s who she is. How she’s surrounded by men who adore her.  I often think of her future husband, and what big shoes he’ll have to fill because she’s already such a strong young lady and those dad’s in her life all have big feet. They accept her and love her and give her value and strength, and because of that my daughter has amazing  role models in fatherhood.

I count the dad’s in my life as one of my biggest blessings. Without them I wouldn’t be the person I am. Without them I wouldn’t be the mother I have become.
Because of the dad’s in my life, I am lucky!

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Because of the dad’s

June 21, 2015

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I am the daughter of an amazing dad, I was the granddaughter of an incredible grandfather.
I am now a wife to my sons first hero, and my daughters first love.

More often than not, dad’s are the behind the scenes parents. They don’t get near the recognition we mom’s do, or that they deserve.

I grew up, and continue to be surrounded by, strong, kind, funny, and compassionate dad’s . Yes my dad (dad’s, because now I have two thanks to my husband) and husband, but my circle of great dad’s is full: my brother, Uncle’s, grandpa, family friends.

I truly believe that because I was surrounded by such strong dad influences, I knew what a good man was and I knew when I had one.
As time marched on, and with having our children, the amazing list of dad’s was extended to my children.

Often when faced with chronic illnesses in children (especially in disorders with stereotypes and stigmas) parents differ on how these deal, handle or cope. We (men and women) are wired differently, us mom’s tend to become more emotional and consumed, and we talk more, a lot more. That’s not to say that dad’s don’t feel the same losses, stresses etc, they just deal handle and cope differently. In our case that usually means my husband levelling me out, calming me down and standing strong while I crumble while dealing with whatever it is that needs to be dealt with as well.
It’s often mom at the forefront, at appointments, meetings etc. I think I’ve attended one meeting alone. And I’ve never had to drive alone to a critical appointment. I am not alone in being my children’s parent, ever.

I think of the hospital stays dude has had, when my husband did the drop offs alone because I found it to hard, where almost every day dude had a visit from papa, uncle’s (and aunts) checking in and delivering books and treats. I think of the support, love and uninhibited acceptance the dad’s in our lives give him. How I am often amazed at how those dad’s just get him.  How all of these grown “guys guys” will be soft when needed. They don’t judge, they don’t question, they accept what is, and because of that, my son has amazing role models in fatherhood.

I think of our daughter and how blessed she is to have all of these men surrounding her.
Watching her bond with her dad is one of the most incredible gifts I’ve been given. He truly is her best friend and he her biggest fan. How it’s usually her dad or papa not missing a game, and always there cheering her on.
With so many wonderful men, there’s no wonder why she’s who she is. How she’s surrounded by men who adore her.  I often think of her future husband, and what big shoes he’ll have to fill because she’s already such a strong young lady and those dad’s in her life all have big feet. They accept her and love her and give her value and strength, and because of that my daughter has amazing  role models in fatherhood.

I count the dad’s in my life as one of my biggest blessings. Without them I wouldn’t be the person I am. Without them I wouldn’t be the mother I have become.
Because of the dad’s in my life, I am lucky!

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PTSD, bipolar or both? I hate choices!

May 16, 2015

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http://www.bullyonline.org/stress/ptsd.htm

Above is a good link to explain ptsd. I highly suggest taking a look before reading this post.

When you have a child with multiple diagnosis sometimes it’s extremely hard to determine which you are dealing with at any given time, if you’re dealing with more than one at a time and how the hell to decide.

This week I found myself feeling like a pretty good failure in the mom department. Because it took 7 days of dude having panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares and irritability for him to finally be able to explain enough to me to understand what was going on.

We have all heard of PTSD. I often write about our experiences with bipolar disorder and our son. But instead of dealing with our typical right now we’re dealing with one of his diagnosis that only creeps forward every so often.

Often we think of PTSD only affecting front line military vets, police, emts or the like. If we think of it in children we think environmental or abuse. We don’t think of it in victims of bullying.
But it most definitely can be a cause, one people would rather not acknowledge because we don’t think of bullying as severe as war or abuse. Yet it is a form of abuse,and can be utterly devastating to the victim.
And like everything, some people can cope with it or shrug it off better than others. And some it continues to effect for year’s. And please if you are thinking, it’s gotta be something else, or, PTSD from bullying what a joke, either stop reading or open your eyes.

Dude was diagnosed while hospitalized 4 years ago (aged 9). The diagnosis was not made on a whim, in fact it was made only after he’d been there 3 weeks and it was determined by the doctors what was going on was not a result of his previous diagnosis, or that a medication adjustment was needed. This particular stay (his longest to date)  was a direct result of the hell he had gone through. During his stay and following he had specific and intense therapy.
For the most part he trucks on without allowing panic, anxiety and flashbacks to take hold. But with PTSD like most mental illness, there’s triggers that bring it crashing back adding current rational and unrational fears along with it.
At this moment, years later, because of events happening in our world, I have a child whose petrified to leave the house or be alone, which is not fun . It’s days full of phone calls while I work and nights full of nightmares. It means falling behind on schoolwork because he’s trying to overcome panic instead of spelling. It means a lot of conversation and reassurance.
Thankfully he’s older and able to express his fears and understand logic better than in the past. But the anxiety and panic are very real and very scary to him.

And this last week because I wasn’t on the top of my game, I found myself frustrated and confused by the what. What out of the choices are we dealing with, and finding myself digging through the vault of my mind to quickly shift gears and remember the appropriate way to handle it. And some days I wonder why the heck we have to have choices! Wouldn’t one be enough? And then I look at my boy. And I remember the hell he’s been through, and will continue to go through. And I remember to hold him tight, love him and support him and fight FOR him instead of against him. I am not the one living through it, I’m just a bystander and I’ll be dammed if I won’t help him through his hellish days so he can enjoy the beautiful ones.

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PTSD, bipolar or both? I hate choices!

May 16, 2015

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http://www.bullyonline.org/stress/ptsd.htm

Above is a good link to explain ptsd. I highly suggest taking a look before reading this post.

When you have a child with multiple diagnosis sometimes it’s extremely hard to determine which you are dealing with at any given time, if you’re dealing with more than one at a time and how the hell to decide.

This week I found myself feeling like a pretty good failure in the mom department. Because it took 7 days of dude having panic attacks, flashbacks, nightmares and irritability for him to finally be able to explain enough to me to understand what was going on.

We have all heard of PTSD. I often write about our experiences with bipolar disorder and our son. But instead of dealing with our typical right now we’re dealing with one of his diagnosis that only creeps forward every so often.

Often we think of PTSD only affecting front line military vets, police, emts or the like. If we think of it in children we think environmental or abuse. We don’t think of it in victims of bullying.
But it most definitely can be a cause, one people would rather not acknowledge because we don’t think of bullying as severe as war or abuse. Yet it is a form of abuse,and can be utterly devastating to the victim.
And like everything, some people can cope with it or shrug it off better than others. And some it continues to effect for year’s. And please if you are thinking, it’s gotta be something else, or, PTSD from bullying what a joke, either stop reading or open your eyes.

Dude was diagnosed while hospitalized 4 years ago (aged 9). The diagnosis was not made on a whim, in fact it was made only after he’d been there 3 weeks and it was determined by the doctors what was going on was not a result of his previous diagnosis, or that a medication adjustment was needed. This particular stay (his longest to date)  was a direct result of the hell he had gone through. During his stay and following he had specific and intense therapy.
For the most part he trucks on without allowing panic, anxiety and flashbacks to take hold. But with PTSD like most mental illness, there’s triggers that bring it crashing back adding current rational and unrational fears along with it.
At this moment, years later, because of events happening in our world, I have a child whose petrified to leave the house or be alone, which is not fun . It’s days full of phone calls while I work and nights full of nightmares. It means falling behind on schoolwork because he’s trying to overcome panic instead of spelling. It means a lot of conversation and reassurance.
Thankfully he’s older and able to express his fears and understand logic better than in the past. But the anxiety and panic are very real and very scary to him.

And this last week because I wasn’t on the top of my game, I found myself frustrated and confused by the what. What out of the choices are we dealing with, and finding myself digging through the vault of my mind to quickly shift gears and remember the appropriate way to handle it. And some days I wonder why the heck we have to have choices! Wouldn’t one be enough? And then I look at my boy. And I remember the hell he’s been through, and will continue to go through. And I remember to hold him tight, love him and support him and fight FOR him instead of against him. I am not the one living through it, I’m just a bystander and I’ll be dammed if I won’t help him through his hellish days so he can enjoy the beautiful ones.

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Your child.

April 19, 2015

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When you find out you’re expecting, you start planning! You plan the nursery, you plan appointments, delivery, names and everything in between.
One thing I know for sure is when that sweet baby arrives, you will continue to plan.
The other thing I know for sure is planning doesn’t mean anything, especially that it will happen!

We have our babies and we have a vision. I’m telling you right now, erase it!
Let them create their own.
And accept them. Let your expectations go and realize they are who they are and being just them, is perfect.

I can remember receiving my sons first diagnosis and having a hard time accepting that my son would never be the side kick to his dad we had expected our little boy to be. He’d never lace up skates, and never be accepted as one of the team or one of the cool kids.
That’s a tough pill to swallow.

And yet here I am 8 years later, a few more diagnosis, a lot of lessons and perfectly content with who my son is and growing into.
And a daughter, younger, I believe who has benefited from my just embracing them as they are. She’s fiercely individual and unique, strong willed and could care less about the box she’s supposed to fit into within society.

My children are who they are, not who I planned for them to be while holding them that first time. But better!

If I could tell new parents a few things of the years to come, from raising a son who lives with numerous disorders (bipolar, sensory processing disorder, developmental coordination disorder, severe anxiety, OCD… ), and one “typical”  daughter who is anything but typical, it would be…

1. Don’t worry about the other kids, or what the books say. They’re not yours, so don’t worry if little Johnny walked first or talked later. Every single kid develops at their own pace. Let your mind rest that in 10 years it won’t matter. (of course if you’re concerned visit your professional).

2. Allow your child to be their own person. Yes of course parent and guide, but it’s important to remember that they are not you. They’re born with their own personality,they’ll find their own passions  interests and goals. Embrace them, even if they’re not yours.

3. Let go. Sometimes we’re faced with the reality that our reality is not what we had planned or hoped for. That’s OK! Grieve (and you will) for those losses, because you will have to find a new path with in your reality. Let the pre conceived realities go. Accept what is and find your best self with in it. Holding onto the plans and hopes you held may now be unrealistic, and continuing to live there will not help anyone.  Enjoy the reality you have as much as you can (and yes some days won’t be all that enjoyable)!

4. Embrace the little things. And I mean what is considered little. I celebrate things every day that other parents take for granted. A smile, the ever so rare laughter. The going to school, the saying hi to someone. All of it. They may seem small, but for some they are huge. And for some we don’t know how long we’ll have them. Embracing your child as they are, and the little things that brings will bring you great joy.

5. Be proud. Love them. Simply love them and support them as they are. Always.

Good grief, indeed!

December 14, 2014

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Ahhhh good old Charlie Brown! Sums up this week perfectly!
As I’ve mentioned this is an extremely busy time of year for myself, I’ve also mentioned that this isn’t the easiest time of year for dude.

There’s been a few signs here and there the past few weeks, that that ever so touchy balance was starting to tip.
  But I’m going to be honest, I just kept thinking they were still only a few, it’s Christmas season and I’m not sure I have time to deal with anything other than work right now so I let those signs not necessarily ignored but definitely not front and centre either because I really don’t have time for appointments, phone calls and I am dog tired to boot. Does that mean I’m a horrible mom? I don’t think so, I think any parent of a sick child sometimes just wishes positive thinking will be enough, I know I’m notorious for that, and in the meantime I miss signs that looking back I wish I hadn’t, enter all the mom guilt possible.

Apparently no matter how hard I try to pretend things are fine, sometimes they don’t listen or follow my schedule dammit!

One sign things are tipping is dude feels sick all the time, his stomach has always been a physical radar for us to use, but with flu season upon us, gallons of milk being drunk it is also sometimes hard to read the cause.
Another tell tale sign is his telling his head to shut up. For most of us we self talk in our heads, but when things are particularly tough he will voice it.
The sniffles are back, a sign he’s stressed to the max.
The rapid mood cycles hit late this week, along with crippling panic.
Then there’s the paranoia, it’s not full blown, it’s something most wouldn’t even pick up on, but thank God his teachers know these subtle signs.
Needless to say that this week I am grateful for a phenomenal team supporting him, it’s crucial we all communicate because we all see different pieces of the puzzle.
The teachers who alert administration (also Nana in our case), administration doing an assessment and comforting and contacting his psychologist who be lines for the school and spends the morning with him until I can get there, the doctor who rearranges schedules so we can see him next week instead of next month. How important the communication is  is more than I can put on words.

Apparently bipolar gave two shits about his mom’s schedule and made one of it’s own. 
Surprising, not really. Inconvenient, yup.
Does it matter  nope.
What matters is not only we caught this spiral before it was deeper and that dude himself has found an awareness about his illness that makes the break a bit more manageable on his part. His knowledge that this is just part of his illness brings him a bit of comfort I think.  Though he’s repeatedly said this week he wishes his life wasn’t full of ups and downs, mostly downs. He wishes he could just be normal. And one of his friends upon an explanation to the class asked if there was a cure, would he ever be better? And there’s nothing more my boy would love, it brings him peace knowing that this to shall pass.
What matters more than a few hours missed work is that we have support and a plan to get through this down slide.
What matters more than absolutely anything is that dude knows he is loved, that he is never ever going to travel these roads alone.
And what makes each and every ounce of frantic running, rearranging and super early mornings to fit in Christmas at the shop, and turmoil at home?
When I get home from a day of teaching Christmas classes, I’m bone tired and dude meets me at the door with a hug out of nowhere and says, “mom thank you for always being there for me, especially when I really need it”.

The kid is worth it all and more, but I still think Charlie’s nailed it…. Good grief!

Dear kiddo…

December 8, 2014

Dear kiddo,

I know you feel like you have no one. I know that you feel isolated, alone and wondering what’s so wrong with you.
I am hear to tell you, nothing!
I am here to tell you one solid good friend is better than 100 “friends”.
You think you’re not funny enough, smart enough, sporty enough or good looking enough.
You are! And I know it might not look that way right now, but none of that really truly matters!
You see for some reason kids, teens, even adults seem to be mislead to think that the more popular, athletic, good looking you are, the better you are.

Not true.

In 10 years I promise you, you’ll understand this.
I am here to tell you that I was athletic, popular etc. And right now none of that made me who I am today!
I don’t talk to the 100 friends, I talk to the 1.

Your character makes you a better person, not having a ton of friends, being invited to the parties or being the best dressed student.
Now there are those who are all of the above and have great character and heart. But the  “popular”  list won’t take them far, that will be their character.
And believe it or not even those you watch with envy are fighting their own battles, you just don’t see that right now.
Those zits will be long gone in a few years, you’ll grow into your legs, and you’ll find yourself. And at the root of you is your heart and your character, stay true to those and you will be more than OK, you will be amazing!

More important than clothes, the parties and the teams is being true to yourself. Be kind and caring, be compassionate and passionate about whatever YOU love. It doesn’t matter if it’s the same as everyone else.  There is always someone who has the same passion, the same humour, the same ideas and you will find them and when you do, you’ll understand you are not alone. You’ll find your groove and those friends that matter.

The world would be a pretty boring place if we were all the same. And really you don’t want to be anyone but you. Because you are the perfect you!

Don’t let anyone tell you you’re not worthy. Don’t let anyone make you feel less than them.  And if you don’t have that one friend yet, I promise you will.
Be just who you are, embrace that person and let go of those who don’t appreciate you just as you are.
You will find out as you get older, friends come and go. Sometimes you know why, others you have no idea.   This is a tough one for anyone to understand. But I need you to know, it’s not your fault. Try to remember that you will (maybe already do)  have that one friend whose not going anywhere, cherish them.

I guarantee that popularity won’t make you a better person. I guarantee your not missing much by staying home on Friday night.

I want you to know, you are perfect.
I want you to know while you’re navigating the path of teen hood, you are loved beyond measure. You are smart enough, funny enough and you are the perfect you. You are kind and sweet and caring.
You are you.
And that’s more than enough.

Hang in there, I know it sucks and you may not think so right now but I promise you’re going to be just fine.

Xoxo

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My village…

November 8, 2014

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It takes a village to raise a child.
Nothing is more true.
Though some of us pull away and hibernate when times are tough, I take comfort in knowing my village is always there.
As a mother of a high needs child I have learned just how vital my village is, and just who lives there!
When you have children, any child, your village becomes a bit smaller, and a bit more clear.
You soon find out who is in your village and just who you want in your village!
I know for me with dude’s journey, it became abundantly clear who I needed around us, and who wanted to be around us,  or could accept and handle us.

Being part of a special needs village isn’t always easy. You’ll witness families in turmoil, in crisis, you may feel left out, or taken advantage of.
In my case, I promise none of that’s intentional. But during those tough times it’s hard for parents to see past the moment. And we rely deeply on our village to pop us up. 
You’ll need a strong mind, an understanding mind, and you’ll need to be a kind listener. You’ll need to know when humour is truly the best medicine and when hugs are the only words that help.  And you can be guaranteed, your fellow parents will give you that back ten fold when needed, because they know just how important the village is, and how hard it is to peak your head out some days.

Now I have been blessed, maybe lucky, call it what you will.
My village is strong.  My village is the foundation that I stand on when life is crumbling. My village consists of first and foremost family, a few incredible mom’s I’m lucky enough to call friends,  but my village also employees doctors we trust impeccably, teachers who guide, aides that support. And some of my fellow villagers are amazing second families to my daughter, because she needs a village of love and support of her own as her hut can sometimes be overwhelming with her brothers needs. 

My village wasn’t always always this strong.  Some villagers needed to pack up and move on.  Some I needed to kick out. Because life changes, and so does your village.  Though my core block of villagers gas been with me since day one, and I know that they will always be. 
They have listened,  cried,  filled in,  picked up,  driven, hugged, advised laughed, and loved our little family through the best and the worst of times.
My village has watched us learn and grow. They’ve held me up when the rugs been pulled out, reminded me to eat when the appetite is gone, to sleep when it gets dark, to laugh through the tears, to not take myself so seriously. They’ve taught me the ins and outs of parenthood, of wife hood and of illness.  They’ve taught me courage and strength, kindness and compassion, just by being them. 
My village is full.  My village is strong. My village is kind, my village is non judging and loving.  My village is educated and brilliant.  My village is funny and sweet.  My village is understanding and supportive. 
My village is my village.  And I am so incredibly grateful for my fellow villagers.

If I knew then, I’d do it all again.

September 27, 2014

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A conversation with a friend the other day, got me reflecting. We were discussing termination of pregnancy if you knew you would be having a special or high needs child. This is not a post for or against. But I answered honestly and adamantly that yes if I knew then what I know now, I would still have had my son, gladly and happily!
You see my son has bipolar, etc. But bipolar, etc is not my son.
Bipolar is one of those illnesses that greatly affect his personality, so in a way it is him.
And that’s fine with me!
I am open and honest about ALL things dealing with a child with high needs and mental illness is.  But I’m equally as open and honest about the good points, not just the bad.
So yes I would do it all again because my son is my son, my son and illness has brought me here. In 13 years I have grown and learned, and yes it would be lovely to not have to learn many things I have, the things I’ve learned so soon are so incredibly important. Words can not explain what we go through, but yes I would do it all again because it’s brought us…

1. Strength.  I’d be lying if I said there weren’t horrible, awful, exhausting, frustrating, heart breaking moments. And lots of them.  So many fears and private tears.  But I’ve learned I have an inner strength I didn’t know possible. That truly a mother’s love is like no other and can give you super hero powers.

2. Don’t stress the small stuff.  I’m a stress ball.  And this has been a life long fight for me.  I stressed about everything! Now I shrug my shoulders and sigh. Alot.  I often look at what others are stressed about and remind myself, that’s big in their life,  at this moment.  Because you see so much seems trivial, when you’re in the throws of crisis almost weekly. I’m slowly, very slowly learning about the big picture. And instead of stressing over the little things, that in 5 years won’t matter, I’m learning to breathe and remember this moment won’t last but that, a moment.

3. Grace. I’ve been on this journey a while now, and I’ve learned to be graceful. Not everyone understands. I’ve learned to debate, advocate and explain with grace and facts. With that combination I’ve seen doors open, understanding and cooperation.

4. Humour. If I can’t laugh, I’m lost.  Mostly at myself.  I screw up,  I fall down, I’m often high strung, on guard and exhausted. And more often than not if I laugh at my mistakes I’m better off.  The list is long,  and I’ve had to apologize and forgive myself tons.  But my humour makes me accept I’m also human.  Plus laughing is sometimes all you can do.

5. Compassion. I have always (I like to think) had a big heart. But let me tell you having a child with illness opens your heart more than you thought possible.  Judging others is almost non existent (almost, because we’re human and no matter what at some point we judge).  That homeless guy that others mock, say is a waste? I wonder what has led him here, and what can I do to help? That kid screaming in the store, that others will tell their parents to take out, spank or tell to shut up? I will ask if everything is OK, can I help? And so on. I find myself judging those who judge now the most. If you’re not them, don’t think you know or know better.

6. Open eyes. So often we don’t have our eyes fully open to others and their struggles. So often we close our eyes to reality. Mine are open. All the time.  I’m enjoying the little successes that are actually huge. I’m watching the little moments that I used to take for granted. I’m watching the pain, the suffering , but also the courage and love. I am more aware of friendships and family.  I’ve learned you truly never know when those eyes will close forever, so open them while you can!

My son is my hero  he is all of the above and more. He is empathetic to a fault, caring, kind, smart, courteous and by far the best son I could have asked for.
And if you’re one of the lucky one’s you’ll get to see that twinkle in his eye.
And that twinkle says it all.

Do I really got this?

September 8, 2014

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I can handle a fair amount.
I’ve learned fairly quickly how to live side by side with my bipolar child.
I can handle the hyper cycle,  usually I take the anger with a grain of salt.
I’m used to the irritable boy who shows up. 
One thing I just can’t handle is when the utter despair hits.
And not because it tries my patience, but because it breaks my heart.
Typically when the day starts with a stomach ache,  I know what’s coming.
But I don’t care how many times you’ve held them as they crash, you can never be prepared or used to it.
I know when tears spill from his eyes,  it’s real. Not a typical rapid cycle, but a depression so great he’s paralysed by it,  and the irrational fears it brings.

The constant rocking, a reminder of the anxiety built up.

And no I can’t handle it.  I suck at handling it.

When he wants to be left alone to work through it,  to grasp whatever composure he can,  to save himself the shame as he says,  I can’t.

I talk, I soothe,  I hold.

But no I don’t leave him alone. Not because I have to some how get him to school, but for fear.
The hardest days are days I have to trust in other’s to protect him. The days (the fifth day of school being one)  I can’t give him the “mental health” day, I so desperately want to.
Because you see,  I want him to learn it will pass  it will be OK.
There are times he stays, because he just simply cannot compose and push through.  Those are the days I hold him a little bit tighter.

As I sit on pins and needles all day, hoping he fairs OK,  I wonder,
Do I really got this?