Why can't it always be fun?

Update: I wrote this post for Chill Mom (a parenting group I hosted on Facebook) in the early days of trying to pin down exactly what my son was struggling with. Sensory Processing Disorder was our best guess at the time, and I had also wondered about autism and ADHD, but none of these things held the answer. We've recently figured out a large piece of the puzzle and Johnny is making great strides toward a healthy and integrated brain, which I'll write more about soon. (Next step: Developing. Another next step: A (not) Brief History.)

Hey there, do I know you?

Here is an introduction of sorts, in case you don’t know me: I’m Faith and I am a jumble of feelings... especially at this particular moment.

Immense gratitude and immense frustration are duking it out in my soul right now.

It’s 1:45 am, and I have just removed my smallest child from her room – where something is causing her to wheeze and cough – to my bed, where she keeps touching me.

This week my husband and I are taking a staycation, in which the goal is to get to the bottom of that little allergen problem, as well as to pretty much KonMari our house. In three days we have done an astonishing amount of work, as Ben likes to say: Thursday we tackled the attic, Friday was the girls’ room, Saturday was the boys’ room. Today we will start on the basement. 

Marie Kondo was not joking when she called tidying up “life-changingly magical.” 

It is... in so many ways.

When we purged and scoured and rearranged the boys’ room, it pushed our 6yo son, who has Sensory Processing Disorder(?), into the unforgiving world of overstimulation. Because of this he did not sleep very well on Saturday night. Sunday morning getting ready for church he was like a ticking time bomb... but he loves Sunday School and I had responsibilities both in Sunday School and in church, so I decided we would go.

I should have known better.

Church began, Ben did his pastoring thing, and Johnny did his I’m-super-uncomfortable/sensory-seeking thing (which takes the form of hyperactivity, picking fights, and behavior akin to a feral, skittish creature) and I had to take him as far away from the sanctuary as possible so he could scream at the top of his lungs about me infringing on his autonomy without disturbing everyone... but I’m pretty sure they could still hear him. Let it be known that our church has had nothing but love and acceptance (or at least quiet tolerance) for the amount of crazy we show up with.

Our cortisol levels were through the roof. Jesus himself came through, though, and we were able to find peace and connect with some joy before the service was over, but that battle re-opened a wound left by all the battles that had come before, and it hurt the rest of the day.

The resentment is strong with me. It feels like I will only get to spend my foreseeable future as the handler and containment system for this struggling and violent tiny person, and I’m gonna say it: 

there are so many other things I would rather be doing.

Mmhmm.

I want to go to literally any place where there are a bunch of other people and not have to be on high alert the entire time, not have to constantly be a shock-absorber, not have to constantly do damage control. This life is exhausting and I am spent.

So while I believe I have EVERY RIGHT to be resentful, I know what havoc it wreaks in me and in the person I’m resenting – especially when that person is a child. 

And so.

SO.

When I talk about being chill, this meme right here is absotively, posolutely, NOT what I am talking about. I’m not here to deny the struggle and pretend like nothing’s bothering me... which I am not capable of doing anyway, to be honest... I am here to be honest. To acknowledge the difficulty — to understand that raising kids is so, so hard, but also to understand and acknowledge that there is a pathway through the difficulty that will work for our benefit.

Yes, there is. Yes. there. IS.

We are not doomed to disappointment and broken relationships: there IS a road of connection and reconciliation that will build trust and resilience for me and my kids. I am here to find it, and keep finding it. My hope – in the future this road will lead me to and in the God that will get me there – is the source of all the chill I will ever be able to possess.

There you go. Thanks for reading, and nice to meet you.