I have this little man in my life and I love him dearly. He presents a challenge for me day in and day out though. You see, I’m the mother of a special needs kid. He doesn’t have medical problems, he’s not blind, there’s no intellectual disability, but still his world is just not quite right. He’s been diagnosed as having ADHD and Oppositional Defiance Disorder, one psychologist threw out “Aspergers” which is now just high functioning autism, and of course, there’s the blatant generalized anxiety.
This weekend was just another reminder of how different he is. I tried to take him to church for Easter, not because I thought it would be good for him, but because I knew it would make my mother in law happy. (noteworthy, I have the best MIL ever, so I don’t mind trying things to make her happy) Admittedly though, I knew this was going to end in disaster, and so I told her ahead of time that she was in charge of him, because I just didn’t want to deal with it yet again, and it wasn’t somewhere I’d volunteer to take him on any other day. In the end though, my mama bear side won out and rather than shoving him in her direction, I shoo’d her away and hid right along side him, in the dark basement stairwell of the church while all the festivities were carrying on upstairs. It really is like a religious rock concert there, not at all the Catholic mass that I grew up with, so it’s interesting to listen to anyway. But he is MY baby, and as much as he frustrates me to the point where some days I feel like draining the bank account and fleeing to Siberia, I find myself getting very protective of him sometimes too. It’s a mix really, of frustration, anger (not at him, but at whatever divine being cursed him with this), love, hope, failure, yearning to be “normal”, sadness and despair.
I know why she wants us there, and she knows why I don’t want to be there, but yet we do this several times a year. I just wonder when it’s ever going to stop. Not being asked to go to church, as I think the day she stops asking us to be there would be really sad. But, when will this little boy break out of his shell and no longer be afraid of people? He doesn’t like people watching him or talking to him. Heaven forbid we try to point out something good he’s done, it’s far too big a deal for him! So, I ask…where is my oil for “normal”? I don’t need to be outstanding or spectacular or even a little awesome, just normal would be fine by me. A day where everything isn’t a fight, a day where I could take him to a gymnastics class or a baseball game and have him participate, a day where I didn’t go to bed feeling guilty that I didn’t do enough or I lost it one too many times.
DoTERRA, you’re on notice, work on that blend okay?