People who equate truth with fact are missing the point.

What I know is not necessarily what I know…

I know damn well that Carter doesn’t do the things that he does to upset me. I know that he loves me. I know that the last thing in the world he wants to do is hurt me.

But there’s only so much a person can take. I’m at my limit, which is just something you say because obviously I’m not, since I’ve been there for 3 days and I haven’t gone over the edge yet. But still. I try to soften things somewhat when I talk or write for public consumption because God forbid anyone ever think I’m complaining. I’ve heard it before: “You chose to have kids; this is just how it is for you.” Yeah, thanks. So I try to put a rosy glow around it and you know what? It’s bullshit. It flat sucks donkey balls sometimes.

Today was one of those times. I feel like nothing more than a walking, talking punching bag. Not physically; he’s not raging these days, but emotionally. I hardly slept last night because of the stress and anxiety of the past few days, but today I pulled out all the stops: I devoted myself totally to trying to keep Carter comfortable. Know what? It was no better than yesterday when I was trying to get the laundry done. He’s called me every nasty name that his 7 year old experience of profanity can manage. “Fuck you, you stupid bitch-ass woman!” is not something that any mother yearns to hear. Even worse are the pleas for forgiveness that come later, the remorse and anguish he feels after an episode is over.

I’d reach for a larger meaning here, something broad and deep and full of hope, but I’ve got nothing. I’m tired. No, weary. This is a long, shitty road we’re trudging and I’m more than ready for a break.

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12 comments to What I know is not necessarily what I know…

  • TrishaH

    My heart aches for you Adrienne. I know its not helpful but I had no other words. Trish

  • Anonymous

    you have no idea who i am, just a random reader who follows your blog, but i am trying very hard to send you as much strength as i can muster right now. i wish i could do more to support you. bon courage, as they say where i live.

  • I want to echo the sentiments of the commenter above. Just a random reader, but wishing you a break, a deep uninterrupted sleep, a peaceful day. I hope you will seek out and join a homeschool support group near you if you haven’t already. I don’t think there are so many parents who think you chose to do this, this is just how it is for you. I’m wishing you support and community and strength to seek out the break you need and deserve.

  • Hi all! It’s nice to see some encouraging words.

  • Mom

    Adrienne I truly know better than almost anyone else on this planet how hard this is. I wish I were there to help you have that break. Since I have known Carter since the minute he was born, I truly know how painful, draining, confusing, frustrating, and endless this has been. You have been creative, courageous, and the best advocate Carter could have had. Its useless to encourage you to keep on keepin on, but what else is there to do? I’m so sorry its so hard. And I know Carter is so worth fighting for, and so are you.

  • Ugh. I want to hold you, hug you, fix this. I want to give suggestions, most of which I’m sure you’ve heard before. But I won’t, and just offer my cyber support.

  • Adrienne, what your mom wrote brought tears to my eyes. There is no advice I can give, not having walked in your shoes. But as your friend, I can say that I love you and your sweet boy (that I’ve never met). You are constantly in my prayers. And I continue to pray that you will find rest, even in short spurts. Call me if you need to vent!

  • Anonymous

    Oh, I so understand where you are, there have been times when I have said raising my neurologically atypical child is like a prison sentence. There have been days when I have cried and said if I was an animal I would chew my foot off to get out of this hopeless situation- my feelings of failure for not being able to always respond with love, for not always remembering he does not mean to behave this way.

    But let me offer you some hope. Today we celebrated his 13th birthday…with friends over all day, playing..in his room with legos…downstairs working on a computer game they are designing…and in the middle of it, I pointed out to my husband how nice it was, and he said, “Yeah…I feels like a normal life”. Which it does these days, more often that not…(although no one, except maybe my mom, knows how much work I have put in, and continue to do so, to keep it looking that way.)

    Carrie ( who posts as “anonymous” because she can figure out any of the other choices)

  • Anonymous

    Carrie says-
    Whoops- that should read- “It feels like a normal life”…I couldn’t figure out how to preview either!!

  • I am sick to my stomach I relate to this so much. I can’t believe there are people out there who feel like I feel.

  • Ashley (@theatomicmommy)

    Just wanted to let you know I’m cruising through your archives.

    I don’t know how you do it. You must be sort human or something. An angel maybe?

    No. Just a mother. A wonderful mother.

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