I wish I could tell you how easy it was. How everything went as perfectly as I had hoped it would, and that I didn't spend an hour hidden away in the bathroom to cry for 20 minutes. Instead I woke up at 6am to a trashed house, because I didn't have the energy to clean before bed, the night before. Lankybox toy's scattered across the floor in tiny puddles of water. Empty Poland spring water bottles on the table. It was clear that a tiny someone had managed to fit playtime in, while everyone else slept, on top of my lack of energy to not clean up. It took over an hour to finally reign in the chaos, only for me to realize it had just begun. Life in our house is an awful lot like a never ending episode of 'The wild Thornberries' minus the fact that none of us live in Africa, or speak to animals. If you know though, you know. It's not often that Z wakes up ready to set the world on fire, but it is often enough for me to know what day's will be the worst day's. Yesterday, was one of those days. Nothing I offered or could do, made any difference. She was just angry, and I don't even think she knew why. It's complicated and sometimes difficult trying to communicate with an eight year old, who can't verbally communicate back. Sometimes I get frustrated that I do the best I can, with very little succession rate, but I refuse to give up. The meltdowns aren't even really that bad, when I actually think about it. The worst part is her violence. The biting, hitting, hair pulling, the self harm, etc. There is something utterly heartbreaking about watching your child spiral so far out of control emotionally, that they smash their heads off the floor, and cry until they hyperventilate. I hate it. I hate restraining her so that she'll be safe. I hate watching her destroy herself. I hate feeling powerless to help her. I want to do more. I try to do more. What I would give to read her mind. To see what she sees, and feel how she feels, maybe if I could relate, I would know what to do. I've tried finding support groups, case managers, trying to find anyone who could offer even the slightest bit of help, or even point me in the right direction and so many times; I've been left feeling hopeless. I've read countless books, done countless research and ended up with more questions than I had answers. I struggled for a long time wondering if something I had done, affected her in this way, endless hours of torturing myself with "what ifs" and "how comes". Crying myself to sleep for months on end thinking about the future she probably won't ever have., and regrettably comparing her to her older sister, who unlike Z met all of her milestones far before she should have. I know I shouldn't compare my children, and I don't in the grand aspect of things, but it was those comparisons that actually brought me to have Z Evaluated, and finally get a diagnosis at the age of four. It's been Four years since then, and every single day is a new learning curve but it's also a new adventure. Sure, she can be angry, and violent and of course we have bad days, but she is so much more than that too; She's funny, and Sweet, and loving, and creative. It's easy to get lost in the desperation of a bad day, when you're too busy taking the shots the day shoots at you, instead of realizing that today is temporary, the feelings of today are temporary, and that tomorrow hasn't happened yet.
I hope that by starting this blog and bringing a real life, with real struggles by a real person to the attention of many, that I can help even just one Mother, who like me, had no where else to turn. Welcome to what is the beginning of me figuring out my life, and being the best mom I can be.
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