My shower stall has become my confessional. Where the shampoo will endlessly listen to me and my conditioner bottle will never pass judgement. The soap, supposed to wash you clean and absolve you of all your sins.
Yes, I am a mother, a wife and a general outcast in many respects. There are days that most people don't want to function and face their day.
For many of us "special mom's" , and I mean mother's of differently abled children rise and shine has a whole other context. Our rise could be at 2, 3 or 4 am....or could be a stretch of days. Shining, is a different story. The shine is our kids, everyday they shine and we take it as we can.
I don't look for pity, it usually finds us. You get the "oh, I'm sorry", the awkward smile from a passerby or those "bless your heart" folks. And, on the inside we ate secretly rolling our eyes and biting our tounges with a return of a half hearted smirk. Parenting in any shape or form is friggin hard. Neurotypical or even a small bought with learning differences. You are challenged in ways that you never thought possible.
Sure the old "you're never given more than you can handle", is often tossed into the mix. You often think......."b*tch, you did not just say that?". "Special kids for special parents", as you clench your fists trying not to throat punch the next person who spouts another random cliche. Look, I'm appreciative of all kind words, sentiments and gestures. However, there's a point where you reach the equivalent of a mid life crisis in the special needs world. It's you can't do this anymore, I'm done fighting, you're not listening, that's not what I said and on and on.
So, when I say my shower stall is my confessional, I mean it. We all have our own. Places to break down, so others don't see how weak and exposed you really are. The water easily mixes with tears, sunglasses in your car ride A LOT, loud music drowns the sound of your own mind plotting it's revenge on you.... especially at 3 am.
Sleepless nights turn into endless days, the eternal days turn into sessions of wondering if farts really are really what keep manatees a float or does the Energizer Bunny ever have to change his batteries while laying in bed at 2 am.
The truth is, I don't know the answer to that or if I'm doing anything right, or if I'll ever know where Jimmy Hoffa really is. The point is, I'm trying, you're trying, we're all trying.
Navigation with out a map is tough and pointless with a GPS. We're all trying to find our own way with OUR lives, let alone little people who depend on us for everything. I'm not mad or upset that my path changed 14 years ago. I've been given interesting tour guides and no map! More often than not, I feel alone, vulnerable and afraid of the unknown. There are more days than I can count where I feel like giving up, but alas, I can't.
There are moments when I internally scream, I'm screaming so loud, I'm surprised no one can hear me. There are so many times that I can't think clearly or hear what someone in front of me is saying. It's all a blur some days. Honestly, that's okay. No one is given the choice in their child/children, but we are lucky enough to be in their presence.
Sure, I smile like a plastic doll most days to avoid conversation. Or use the old "good" as a reply to twenty questions. It's exhausting to answer the same questions endlessly, it's tiresome to realize you're ultimately more of an expert in most facets of your child's diagnosis. If life offered PHD's or MD's for life experience, damn I'd be a millionaire. But, life doesn't. Instead, life offers a series of bitch slaps, muffin top and a slow metabolism. Awesome consulation prizes.
I'm not penning this for pity or for a "hey, look at me moment", I do it because someone DOES understand. It may not be in the conventional way most adults interact. But, there are those that get it.
You're shower may never really understand, but I sure do
