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Tuesday, March 13, 2012

The Buck Stops Here

Not a long post here, as my thoughts aren't organized in a blog-worthy way. Tonight I've just been thinking a lot about the essential loneliness of having a child like Janey. I am so much luckier than most, with a supportive husband and sons, a wonderful school, good friends and all. But when it comes right down to it, Janey is my responsibility. Mine and Tony's, but somehow, a mother is the most responsible. I can complain to others, get support from others, get help from others, but when Janey is screaming and I don't know what's wrong, or when I am overwhelmed by the inability to do any housework or cooking or reading or anything without Janey doing something messy or dangerous, it's me who it all reflects on. The house is a mess, I don't work as much as I should, I don't keep up with friends the way I should, I don't go to school meetings or community events or funerals or volunteer opportunities or anything like that as I feel I should. I know what I can do and not do, but it is very hard to explain this to others without it seeming like complaining or using Janey as an excuse. I am worn down. At times I want so much to just pour everything out to people, and I hold back from doing so, because it's not their burden. I am becoming more inwardly facing. I truly feel very alone sometimes, and I know I'm not, but in a way, when Janey has been crying for a long time, and the housework has built up and I have a drawer full of bills, I am alone. It's no-one else's problem but my own. That's the case with any mother, I guess, and it's my job, but tonight, it feels tough.

2 comments:

Sabrina said...

I'm so sorry you're feeling overwhelmed. But it's great that you've put your feelings out there on this blog. You've got people in the blogosphere who read your words - and we care!

sara said...

What she said :) I don't know you in person, but I faithfully read your blog, and can completely relate. So we are alone, together. Its so hard for me to feel different from everybody else, to feel like some things that most people take for granted are just not for me, at least anymore. They once were, before my child, and now they are not. I find it hard to balance between acknowledging that feeling as legitimate and real, and trying not to let it define me. Because there is nothing lonelier than self-pity, its no way to live. But its a tough place to be, and tougher still that I can't force myself to just change my perspective - just be one of those 'take on the world, force the world to make way for my child' special needs moms. Some days maybe I am, but somedays I just get so tired of being different all the time. Maybe that's how some of our kids feel too.