These past two weeks have been harder than I care to describe in too much detail. I have been fighting so many battles in my brain in addition to the regular, out-loud battles that go on in any normal house (get your chores done, why aren't your chores done, when will your chores be done? Is anyone going to go to bed ever? etc.). We have some not-normal out-loud battles that we have been fighting as well as Matt has been increasingly aggressive, agitated, and almost animalistic in his behavior. It has been challenging to be scratched and then hugged every five seconds...to be dragged from place to place and then shoved into a wall when he wants to get past you. It's hard not to be offended when the child you are working so hard to love seems to (UNKNOWINGLY, for sure), show you to opposite in return. It has literally required us to, every second of every day, be on our game. Matt will grab anything on the counter and throw it or shove it in his mouth, and dart from thing to thing to thing. There comes a point where patience is exhausted and you find yourself fighting not to shove back...or throw something yourself.
More difficult than these out-loud battles are the ones in my brain though. I've been fighting feelings of resentment--I resent Todd because he gets to go to work and then come home and be the hero. I resent Liam and Adi for adding to the noise and stress at times. I resent Matt because he makes it impossible to have one minute of R&R. I've been fighting feelings of jealousy as I compare other families potential Netflix-filled ice storm response to ours which led to one-too-many drives and a wrecked jeep at the bottom of a steep hill. I've been fighting feelings of loneliness as I tell myself that no one really understands what this is like and how taxing it can be. I've fought feelings of anger as an ultra-sound tech shows zero compassion and an abundance of irritation as I wrestle an octopus to get an Echocardiogram from Matt. I've fought feelings of insecurity and ineptness as I grapple to figure out how to help Matt find something productive to do and come up short over and over.
Most of all, I've fought feelings of self-loathing that I can do better through this! I feel like I should be better than I am behaving...that I should be able to rise to the challenge and laugh through it. I want desperately to protect my other kids from feeling similar feelings toward Matt, but in trying to shelter them, I end up hurting myself. That adds to the other feelings listed above and the cycle continues.
Winter break has given me the ability to hide a little. I haven't needed to work, be super social, interact with lots of friends. I could leave quickly after every Christmas event and avoid a lot of conversations. I realized that was actually a crutch for me because talking about what we are going through in a super real way is almost too much for most conversations--I share with those I am closest to, don't get me wrong. But describing the daily will sound like a whine-fest and I try to avoid that in most cases. So hiding feels more comfortable. I don't have to pretend or fake being OK and don't really have to talk about it....people don't have to see it. Not a lot of people step into our space during the break because the logistics of navigating Matt's tornado doesn't really match the relaxing social experience you usually visit people for.
Today, however, I couldn't hide any more. We had a really difficult time getting out the door for church because he was so difficult--wouldn't allow me to help him get ready without bolting, wouldn't stand still for more than a split second, pushing me where he wanted me to go, pulling my hair when we tried to go for a drive, kicking me when I put him in a different seat in the back seat so he wouldn't be pulling my hair from directly behind me. We finally arrive at church and get to the doors of the chapel...and Matt turns around and bolts from me down the hall. I send Adi and her friend into the meeting we are already late for and start chasing Matt. When I catch him, I caught the eye of a couple of friends and when one said hello, I literally told him not to look at me because I could feel the emotions rising. He was giving me an eye of sympathy and the dam burst. Instead of just letting me walk away, however, he came after me. Where most people would have been afraid to enter into the space of a highly emotional person who probably looked completely insane, he followed me and invited Matt to go on a walk with him. I composed myself and made my way to the restroom to clean up my now mascara-streaked face. Unfortunately (fortunately) there was another friend who wouldn't let me sneak past...she just hugged me...which made me cry harder. I made my way back into the hall and the first friend was still walking with Matt and said he could walk with him for as long as needed. I insisted we try to go into the chapel because I don't want Matt thinking he can get out of things with behaviors. We get to the bench where my kids are and Matt bolts for the front of the chapel where Todd is sitting on the stand. I get to him and grab him, but it takes a lot of my strength to force a course change and I medium-wrestle him out the door in front of the entire congregation. When I get out, I find more friends...several of them...who followed me out, each offering to take Matt, each willing to rescue me. That continued for the rest of the church meeting. I had a nice break as friend after friend spent time with the tasmanian devil, cherishing his hugs and giggling as they chased him or got dragged around the church.
When we got home, I kept wresting the octopus, fighting the food-ninja, getting shoved into things, but it felt a little different. The story in my mind had changed. I still feel exhausted to the point of tears. I still feel sad that I haven't figure it out. But I feel SEEN. I put Matt in the stroller when nothing else would work and pushed him around for an hour and thought about this. I feel like Satan wants us to hide. From the very beginning of human history, he has encouraged us to hide (thank you, Adam and Eve story). I've always thought about that as Satan saying "you need to hide because you are naked (vulnerable) and you don't want people to see your vulnerabilities!" I thought this was a strategy to convince us that we should be ashamed of our vulnerabilities. However, I realized there is even more to it today. Satan wants us to hide so that we feel more isolated, more lonely, more ____ (fill in the blank) because the minute we allow ourselves to be seen, someone just might come to our rescue. He doesn't want us to feel connection. He doesn't want us to feel lifted and unburdened. The opposite. We cannot give him the victory that hiding inevitably leads to.
My feeling is this: come out of hiding. Literally just take a step out and let yourself be a tiny bit seen and exposed. People cannot rescue you or lift you or share your burden if you keep it hidden and don't allow them to catch a glimpse. Give others the chance to be your angels on earth. The hard parts of our situation haven't changed in the least, and my eyes might still be leaking a little as I struggle through the hard parts, but my heart is literally overflowing with gratitude and my thoughts are filled with love for the good people who want to help. I feel seen vs. isolated and lonely. Loved vs. inadequate and self-loathing. It WILL be OK.
