I just haven’t found it yet.
I feel sad on the days (and nights) when I cannot handle my own child. When my own overwhelming emotions spill over and join in her rebellion and chaos.
Sleep tends to heal us. But the lows take their toll.
If you are raising a child with an extraordinary brain and you leverage only an ordinary brain for your own point of reference, perhaps you know my struggle.
And if you are among the parents who have mostly been able to hold your ground – not cry, not shout, not cave – I applaud you. You are my role models. And can you spare a blood transfusion, or plasma, or fecal transplant, or kidney – or whatever parts that you possess sufficiently that I must surely lack?
I am patient. Until I am not.
I am insightful. Until I lose my way.
I am compassionate. Until self-pity takes over.
I am protective. Until I lose my cool.
And this my friends is the state of things. Her main caretaker, her advocate, cheerleader, defender, mother. And sometimes her staunchest adversary.
I thank God for her every day. Even on the toughest days. She is my greatest teacher; shows me where I am vulnerable, need to grow, need work, need help.
She is my greatest motivator to switch the lens, change the camera angle, see things differently, and take a better look.
The pain and sorrow that her challenges bring always come with a silver lining.
And yet in these still hours of the morning, where I sip my tea and think of all the different ways I might have handled yesterday, I am riddled with a soulful sadness.
Am I enough? No.
Will I ever be enough? Also no.
But here I am. Trying. Giving it my best shot day by day.
Is that enough? I hope so.
It is human nature to find fresh cause for optimism…
Today is a new day.
Hope springs eternal.
