The back story for this post is that someone had posted a picture on FaceBook yesterday. It's a picture of the person's son with a Superman cape draped over the back of his wheelchair. To the image she had added the message "Always Be Strong Because You Never Know Who You Are Inspiring."
Not cool Mostly Anonymous Woman On FaceBook.
"Always be strong" is just about the dumbest, most misguided, sanctimonious advice you can give out. I am strong most days, mostly because I don't know how else to be and still get stuff done. That's how most moms--and dads!--are and special needs parents are no exception.
And let me tell you: it's downright exhausting being strong. Physically. Mentally. Emotionally. Every aspect of it. It's hard work finding therapists, doing therapy work at home, going to doctor's appointments, dealing with medical supply orders, lifting wheelchairs, finding clothes and shoes that work with braces, finding clothes and shoes for skinny beanpole kids with crazy narrow feet, feeding picky eaters, feeding non-picky eaters, doing laundry, keeping siblings from killing each other (yeah, did you know that kids are kids and they'll totally snag toys from each other, regardless of how disabled either one is? And that this, without fail, causes World War III levels of fighting between said children?).
Most days, I'm strong and I can take whatever life (or my children) decides to fling my direction. But sometimes, there are just a few too many things going on. One too many insurance claim denials or foods that tickle the tongue just right or loads of laundry or can't-possibly-live-without-it toys. Or maybe it's the thought of spending an hour walking through the grocery store just to get a gallon of milk or getting your finger caught in the hinge of a brace. Or the tantrums or the never-ending string of "Why?" or the fights over whether we need to watch "Frozen" for the 10th time today. Sometimes being strong just isn't an option.
That's okay. It's healthy, even.
Sometimes you need to just take a break. Let someone else take care of dinner (or just let the kids eat grilled cheese for the 4th meal in a row). Cry. Scream. Hide under the blankets. Do whatever allows you to regroup and reset and try again tomorrow and, most importantly, do so without worrying about who might be watching.
As far as being inspiring goes, I see two interpretations for that. One is me motivating you, pushing you to work harder, do better, feel better about your lot in life.
Not happening.
Did you read through the seriously edited list of stuff we juggle around here? I am not a motivational speaker. I'm not your life coach. I don't have time for giving pep talks to strangers. (Friends and family are totally different, by the way. Pick-me-ups are always available to y'all.)
The other interpretation I have for "inspiration" is more of acceptance or peace about your situation. We're normal, boring people. We do ordinary things like go to the grocery store and Walmart. It's a bit comical now because it's usually mommy and Nora with the cart in front, Addy with her crutches behind us, and daddy behind her with the wheelchair for back-up, and we go at a pretty slow pace. If seeing that everybody has a different "normal" helps you accept and love your normal, that's great. That makes me feel good. However, I'm not going to feel bad that you might see the other side of normal. The side that sometimes ugly cries because things get overwhelming. The side that lashes out at the people at the store who just stare at my kid.
Life is good. But life is hard, too.
So, to the Mostly Anonymous Woman On FaceBook: please, for the sake of your own sanity, don't take your own advice. Just live. Enjoy your son. And don't worry about what other people think.
