Above All, Choose Kind

I recently finished reading Love Warrior by Glennon Doyle Melton.  If you haven't read Carry On Warrior or this, you're missing out.  She's a straight shooter who had serious struggles for much of her life, lost herself along the way, yet in the end persevered.  What I admire most, though, is her willingness to share her story with others without shame, even though it's messy and uncomfortable. She has a fantastic blog, Momastery, and freely speaks her mind on so many of today's most controversial issues in a loving, motivating way.  

She uses her platform to encourage people to be tolerant, fight for what's right, and above all, be kind to and love one another...and ourselves.

When I put down her book, I felt inspired, encouraged, and validated.  We have made difficult decisions for our family as of late and choosing to not remain silent about our rationale has led to some unexpected fallout.  At first I was hurt, but over time I have come to see the situation for what it is.  Sometimes someone else's messy truth makes people uncomfortable. 

Perhaps my experience, my voice, will reach into the heart of another mama out there who is struggling.  Maybe she will no longer feel alone and find comfort in knowing there are others out there fighting the good fight right alongside her.  Why should I sit by and be silent?

Seeing the world from someone else's perspective can be difficult.  It seems we are so wrapped up in our own lives that even considering someone else's circumstances may be different is a challenge.  I'm not sure it's ever been quite as evident in my lifetime as it is right now.  Turn on the news, read an editorial, simply look at what's going on around you.  Tunnel vision is everywhere.    

Kindness and compassion have been replaced with intolerance and apathy.  What would happen if people would step back and suppress the urge to argue or attack and simply say, "I hear you.  I am sorry."?

People attempt to tell others how they should feel and belittle and judge them when their opinion differs.  Why do people believe that is okay?  Individuals are entitled to feel emotions and come to their own conclusions based on their personal experiences.  Why do whites feel compelled to discredit how the black community feels?   Why do the middle or upper class feel the need to rebuke and dehumanize people living in poverty?  Why do people attack others who choose a different lifestyle than their own?  Why?  

What makes this even harder for me to wrap my head around is this intolerance isn't limited to behavior among strangers.  This happens in families, with friends.  It seems that nowhere is safe anymore and it is disheartening people spend so much energy bringing people down rather than building them up.    

What happened to the village?  The village where people lifted each other up, unselfishly helped each other, steadfastly supported each other?  Where did it go?  As of late, it seems to have been wiped from existence.

Mamas.  I have a plea for you.  Lead by example.  Those little eyes are watching and when we are expressly showing our intolerance of others, we are teaching our kids to do the same.  When we are brushing someone's feelings aside and trying to impress our feelings and opinions on them, we are teaching our kids to do the same.  When we are outwardly unfairly judging others, we are teaching our kids to do the same.  Choose kindness.  Choose compassion.  Choose love.            

Glennon and I are kindred spirits.  I have never been one to be silent.  I am not ashamed to use my voice.  I have a story to share.  I'm sure you do, too. 

  

Perception vs. Reality

Truth.

How do we distinguish between what is actually true versus what we perceive to be the truth? 

How do we sift through the gray, hazy uncertainties of life to find the crystal clear sky?  

We listen.  We wait.  We seek answers to the questions that are causing us to feel unsteady, uncertain. 

If we're patient, persistent, one day we may be blessed with clarity. 

After years of uncertainty and haze, the fog has begun to life.  Each day the difference between perception and reality is slowly becoming more clear.  The truth has set me free and the elephant that has been crushing my chest for so many years has finally begun to retreat.  I am able to view life through a different lens and the peace and acceptance that accompanies this new perspective is welcomed with open arms.

So what changed?  

In order to understand this newfound view, we'll have to backtrack a bit.

Nearly four years ago there was a not-so-subtle shift in our family dynamics.  Our younger son learned to climb out of the crib while we were away for Thanksgiving and while this may seem like a right of passage, it marked the beginning of a very long and hard downward spiral.

It began with sleep problems that plagued us for nearly a year until our pediatrician suggested giving Melatonin a try.  Each and every night our two-year-old would fight bedtime for hours.  It would be 9 or 10 o'clock before he would fall asleep and each morning he would wake for the day between 4-5 in the morning.  He would not nap unless I strapped him in the van and drove around for hours.  It was exhausting for him, us, and our other kids. 

Soon after he began to exhibit extreme behavior issues and the rest, they say, is history.

For as long as I can remember I have loved children.  I was the first in line to babysit whenever an opportunity came around.  I had my career path chosen long before I ever graduated from high school.  Teaching young children with special needs came naturally to me and starting a family shortly after we got married was the obvious next chapter in our life.  

I was pretty confident I would be a great mom.  I'd cared for so many children over the years that I was not the least bit intimidated to have my own.  Having a large family was my dream and I was blessed to see that dream come to fruition.

My pre-kid self understood parenting would not always be sunshine and roses, but I was not prepared for how hard it would be once they arrived.  The endless nights of little sleep, chronic ear infections, reflux, and feelings of isolation took their toll, but there was an even larger challenge looming around the corner.  I was completely unprepared for the reality of raising a child with significant behavior challenges and the impact it would have on our marriage, other children, and me.

We love our little guy to pieces.  He has a megawatt smile, a killer hug, and is smarter than a whip, but his challenges over the last four years have resulted in a frustrating, exhausting, overwhelming, anxiety-producing period of life filled with many, many questions and very few answers.

Until now.   

For four years I have been buried in the trenches.  Feelings of helplessness and despair have consumed me.  I have thrown my hands in the air and said, "I give up" more times than I can count.  Nearly everyday a volcanic-like eruption would occur and at times it was debilitating.  It wore me down and somewhere along the way I lost confidence in my ability to parent.

I have felt like a failure as a mother and the shame that has accompanied those feelings has almost been unbearable at times.  I have wondered why I, the teacher with special education training, could not devise a plan to help improve the quality of life for all of us.  Why could I not help my son?  Why did nothing work?

I have spent years feeling embarrassed at the store, family gatherings, church, and everywhere in between because I could not "handle my child."  I've felt judged and inadequate.  People have offered their wisdom and advice, but it just never fit the needs of our boy.   

Each day I would wake feeling anxious and defeated before my feet ever hit the floor, because I knew the day would be filled with challenges.  Some would be minor, but many would be all-out tantrums, some filled with so much aggression it would be hard to manage.  It would impede my ability to run errands, ride in the van without complete and utter chaos, or to simply relax at home.  I was always on guard waiting for the next eruption to come and day in and day out, it always did. 

But now the tides have changed.

We finally have answers.  We finally have a cause.  We have finally begun a treatment plan.  

Have we seen any significant changes yet?  No.  In fact, some days it's worse, but our mindset has changed.  We finally have the truth and the truth has set us free.

After four long years of doing everything we could within reason to correct the perceived "problem" we can finally rest.  We can refrain from trying to mold him into something he is not because we feel like we are failing him.  Instead we have embraced the truth and been liberated to accept him as the amazing, energetic, bright boy who has some unique challenges.  

The shame and embarrassment has begun to wither away.  We have not failed as parents.  We cannot control his behavior and while it poses many challenges in our daily lives, it has become easier to accept now that we understand the root of the cause.  It has given us the freedom to let the cards fall as they may.  We don't have to swim against the current any longer.

We are able to set boundaries for our family and understand that "pushing through" is simply not an option.  It will only lead to frustration for all of us and our job, as parents, is to determine what is the best yes for our family.  We can do this freely and without guilt, because we have a much better understanding of how our decisions impact him and our family.  Guilt, obligations, pressure be gone.  In the end, it is the well-being of our family that matters the most.     

We can help our other children understand and be more patient and loving with them.  This is also a challenge for them and they handle it with such grace most of the time.  

I can forgive myself.  I can let go of the shame and guilt and move forward with confidence.  I have not failed my boy or my other kiddos.  I love them and do my best day in and day out to help them succeed.  Some days may look less than impressive, but it is all I have to give. 

Raising a family is not easy.  It is a messy, imperfect, exhausting venture, but the all-encompassing love I feel for those kids and my desire to protect and nurture them makes it all worth it.  I cannot change the past, but I can give it my best each and every day moving forward.  I can lock up those feelings of inadequacy and helplessness and toss away the key.  

I am enough.  My little boy is enough.  We are all enough.

  

The Inevitable Curveball

I love baseball, particularly the Chicago Cubs.

You'll find me tuning into nearly every game all season long and I love every minute of it.  Baseball is a game of details and discipline.  It is filled with flashy players who get paid the big bucks and receive major press coverage, yet if you look closely, you'll find a quiet, humble player who may be the real difference maker on the team.  As you near October, that unsuspecting player may finally rise to the spotlight and surprise everyone.

While riding in the shadows of the big-name players, the humble, quiet pitcher has gone out and dominated nearly each and every outing throughout the season.  His pitching isn't overpowering, yet he finds himself in the Cy Young mix, while sailing through the season feeling little pressure other than being on the most promising Chicago Cubs team in decades.  There were no great expectations riding on his back to dominate, yet he has.

It is a truly remarkable, inspiring story that has unfolded this year.

Life is a lot like baseball.  Some seasons our performance exceeds our expectations and others fail to live up to the hype.

It is filled with loud, flashy people who love to be in the spotlight and those who would prefer to slide by as unnoticed as possible.  So often, the quiet ones end up feeling the most fulfilled and leave a lasting, positive impact on this world.  The only expectations they have to live up to are their own and they are able to fulfill their purpose while feeling little pressure as they quietly move around relatively unnoticed.

Life also has a way of throwing us the inevitable curveball from time to time.

As parents, we have found ourselves in a season we weren't quite expecting.  That inevitable curveball has been thrown and while we saw it coming, it doesn't make it any easier to handle.

On Friday, the doctor confirmed our suspicions regarding our son.  In a way it was a relief to have the diagnosis on paper, yet as his mama, it hurts my heart to know it is true.  So much of what we have endured over the past four years makes so much sense now, but it leaves me with feelings of guilt and helplessness just the same.

While it was a tough pill to swallow, I am so grateful that his struggle is not one that is life-threatening.  It is simply a very big, exhausting, frustrating, complex challenge.  We will all work together as a team to manage the challenges, work to help him succeed, and ensure that he feels loved and special every single day.  Home will always be safe, no matter how ugly the world outside our doors may be.

Dwelling on the past will do no good, but accepting that life is truly lived one day at a time will help us appreciate the little things that much more.  This is just the beginning of a very long journey, but it is one we will walk together as a family.  Our kiddos will surely learn valuable life lessons regarding tolerance, acceptance, and perseverance and hopefully grow to be a light for both their brother and their peers who may need someone to notice how truly special they are.

We are a team and much like that quiet, humble Cubs pitcher Kyle Hendricks (who ironically almost threw a no-hitter tonight which began well after I started writing this), we'll go out each and every day and quietly go about our business determined to do our best to help our little guy become the best version of himself.

He's a bright, innovative, persistent, loving little boy and I can't wait to see him have his breakout season one of these days.

It won't be flashy, but it will surely be memorable.