Confessional

I have a confession to make. I love my son, like more than I could ever possibly describe. He is my everything, but… Right now…I do not want to Mom, like, at all. And that my dear friends, is causing me to feel like a massive piece of shit human.

Here’s the deal, my recent life circumstances made it impossible for me to care for him in the way that I normally would. Thank everything holy, his dad was able to step in and fill the role that is and has been since my son’s birth, mine. The role of primary parent.

The part of me that feels like a massive piece of shit human wants to tell you that I got used to having less responsibility and I don’t want to give it up. The part of me that loves to beat myself up for everything, even the things out of my control, wants to hang it’s (my…our?) head and wallow in shame, calling myself selfish, self centered, lazy, uncaring, heartless, bad bad bad… Bad mom. The truth, I think, is more complicated.

I have, since my son was born, as is my tendency, given too much of myself. I, mostly on my own and chronically ill, attachment/gentle parent an autistic, PDA child. If you don’t understand what that means, I took the hard road without near enough support, in a broken body, with a child who is “extra”.

Looking back, I would not change the decisions that I made in my choices of how to parent but…I was burnt the fuck out before life just knocked me on my ass. *Sigh*. On top of that, the ass kicking that the universe just bestowed upon me, made a couple of things very clear to me. If I want to heal, I have to put myself first. I have to engage in the activities that bring me joy, peace, and help me to process. I have to invest time in my healing. I don’t get to just half ass try and fit healing tools in on the sly when I steal a moment alone. I HAVE TO. If not, my son won’t have a mom at all.

I wrote recently about how I healed the first time that I had a run in with chronic illness. On my own, in a safe space for the first time in my life, I spent my time learning what I needed (that’s key, what I actually needed) and immersing myself in those routines/activities. This is how I became regulated. This is how I healed.

I’m in a tough spot right now. My son’s father will be returning to work soon. I will have to go back to full time primary parent. And this is where I feel like a selfish asshole. I don’t want to. I feel resentful about it. I think that that actually makes sense though and it definitely doesn’t mean that I am a horrible person or mom. It means that I need to focus on healing and I an unsure of how to navigate this. How is it possible to find balance? It means that I’m scared, terrified really. What if I lose the gains that I’ve made? What if I’m unable to heal I’m this circumstance? What if, and I think this is my biggest fear, what if I don’t make it? And by that, I mean, I either become fully incapacitated or I lose my life and… The part of that that kicks me in the teeth, rips my guts out, stabs me straight through the fucking heart..my son doesn’t have his mom.

I feel like I need to be selfish temporarily,in order to ever truly be what he needs. Pray for me. Send me love. All the good things that might help me to figure out this balance. Or advice? Leave a comment below.

Can’t, not won’t

PDA (Pathological Demand Avoidance) mom rant incoming…

When my son and I wake up each morning, we spend some time in bed, cuddling and talking, before we get up to start the day. This morning, I mentioned that today was going to be cooler. My son’s immediate response, “no, it isn’t”. I started to explain a bit but was again hit with immediate denial and a bit of emotion.

“Ok, baby. I thought it was but I guess I was wrong.”

Period. End of conversation.

We go upstairs and my mom mentions the weather.

“It isn’t cold” Anger. Panic.

Grandma proceeds to push.

“Alright Mom, drop it.”

She knows he is PDA. She understands what this means. She continues to push. She needs to be right. It is in fact cool outside.

I snap and yell at her.

Why are we arguing with a four year old, period. A four year old with a nervous system disability….

PDA isn’t easy for caregivers but… It’s much harder for the child experiencing it. Every choice we make as caregivers either activates his nervous system or accommodates it, helps him to regulate. He doesn’t get a choice. He is just constantly in fight or flight.

There are decisions that are difficult to make. When and how often to push for him to take a bath, change his clothes, try a new food… But this… This was not one of them.

It is cool outside. I know this. My mom knows this. Accommodating a four year old with a nervous system disability by stating they opposite? Not a big deal.

I really hate living with other people.

Miraculous

I’m laying here watching my son sleep and man, this shit just absolutely fucking blows my mind.

My love and I, we had a really good night, like a REALLY good night… and morning. And then my son just shows up because of that night…or morning. And then, he just grows inside of my body. Like I didn’t have to do anything or even think about it, though I did think about it, a lot, like it was all I could think about but I digress. I didn’t have to try, he just grew.

And now, here he is. He’s this whole human being, perfectly imperfect and perfectly himself and I can’t help but wonder…

How dare any of us not believe in miracles?