Back to the drawing board

This has not been a red-banner week for me. I had a complete meltdown on Monday, and when I say meltdown I mean it. Being a mom is challenging and being the mom of a child with special needs just adds to it. Strangely, I've found myself reluctant to write about what's been happening, as if it's selfish to admit weakness in myself or disloyal to CJ to acknowledge how challenging life can be at times. I feel like parents are often so focused on seeming like they have everything under control, that they don't always reach out for help when they need it. And boy did I need help.

People who know CJ recognize what a special soul he is and appreciate all that he brings to our lives, realizing that he is not defined by his challenges. His teacher this year told us a story about how they were reading Heidi and he was so moved by it that he started crying. When she asked him what was wrong he started talking about the book and how it made him feel and suddenly, for the first time ever, she found herself in tears in her classroom right along with him. He told his classmates his "deepest, darkest secret" last week, that he leaves home in the middle of the night to wait tables in a bistro where he drinks alcohol and smokes pipes filled with coffee grounds. When the principal called to talk to me about it, she spent most of the time focused on how impressive his storytelling was, with amazing details added. Apparently, the GT teacher will just come in and sit and watch him when they are doing activities in class because she loves the way his mind works. That is the boy that we all love and want to see succeed.

Unfortunately, not everyone sees that child and it's hard to handle people who only recognize his limitations, simply because they don't have a chance to see the whole package. And I get it, obviously. On any given day there will be moments when I want to pull my hair out because I've asked him to do the same thing 5 times and yet he looks at me blankly when I remind him yet again. So, yes, I understand. I understand the teacher, who has never seen him before he completely loses it in the gym during pick-up because it's loud and he's tired, telling me that my child "has a problem." I understand the parent who hears that some little boy at school hit their daughter in the face for no logical reason and isn't happy about it. I understand that the hockey coach doesn't want a player telling him that pulling another kid out of the game isn't fair because everyone deserves to play the same amount of time. I understand that the GT teacher comes to watch him in his classroom because he can't function in her's. And when AJ tells me that his brother embarrasses him sometimes and he wishes I would just make him stop, I understand it.

I understand and yet it kills me to know that people are looking at him and thinking he is a problem and looking at me and thinking I'm a crappy mom who hasn't figured out how to control her kid. I may be doing everything wrong, but it is not because I'm not trying. I try to let it roll-off, always sage advice, and it does work mostly. Recently, however, it's just felt like things are getting more extreme. Not, I think, because he is changing but simply because he is getting bigger and the consequences of his actions are more serious than they were when he was 4 or 5. I've been feeling this panic that people are right and I'm failing him and he'll end up in a place where I've never wanted him to be.

And so, I cracked. And it wasn't pretty, but it was reality. And it's okay because once it's over, you go back to doing what you can to help the boy you love. Sometimes, you even come out of it better than you were before. Sometimes, you come out of it with a plan.

Today, I filled a prescription for an ADHD drug for my son, my brilliant, wonderful son. Because I want him to have playdates and sleep-overs. I want every teacher he meets to know how great he is. I want him in that GT classroom. I want not only to help him work on his weaknesses, I also want to help him make the most of his strengths. He deserves nothing less and we aren't there right now.

I hate medicine, as every doctor I've had in the last 5 years will tell you, but when it meant saving my life I took them. I hate giving my children medicine just as much, but I will if it means saving the life that I know CJ should be having. I don't want him to get by or make do, I want him to soar. And if a pill can help, I'm not going to stand in its way. And if it doesn't work, we simply stop it. No harm, no foul.

So, fingers crossed, tomorrow starts a new day and new path. It won't be smooth, but that's okay, the best things in life are rarely the most easily achieved.