Some days, I just want to run away.
My youngest takes a toll on my emotions, strength, patience and self worth. It’s draining hearing him scream because of a shirt that doesn’t feel right (he was wearing it cheerfully a second ago) or moaning as he looks for the paper he misplaced (he had it in his hand when I saw him last). I feel helpless as I hear him complain about his hair as he tries to play with Legos or fight with the blanket at bed time.
I wonder why he can’t just deal with it.
But he can’t. He’s got wiring that prevents him from coping with certain things.
And I have to accept and love him. I get to accept and love him.
That’s where I have a lot to learn. I’m way too selfish and unkind. I don’t want to be inconvenienced or patient.
Instead of demanding my own way, I can learn to stop and exercise compassion.
We have a long road ahead. Our first psych eval is Monday. No matter what happens next, I have to put on my big girl panties, grow up and remember—
There is no such thing as normal. We are all different, unique and special.
And we are made in God’s image. He can’t make junk. And he knows what’s going on in my little guy’s mind and body. And he knows me. He has a plan, and I can trust him.
So for today, I’ll take an extra breath, thank God for my son and smile as I keep plugging away.