So, I am back after another long week of procrastination – back with a little bit of truth and light. Actually, a lot of truth and hardly any light. Sometimes it’s really hard for me to be honest, but as I’ve said before if I’m going to write I am going to be honest. It’s the least I can do for my readers, and the most I can do for myself.
I haven’t written anything since Saturday – which was actually the day I wrote “She’s on the Spectrum.” I haven’t written anything at all this week. I haven’t written anything for a number of reasons; the least of which being that I was “truly busy”.
Although my daily planner was full of activities and chores, I could have made time to write a post. I could have written about Mia having her very first adaptive gymnastics class this past Monday; which she seemed to thoroughly enjoy. I could have told you about how parents are not allowed into the room – the facilitators of the class feel they get a better response from the children if parents are not involved. They also feel that it allows the children to work on social skills more adeptly without Mom standing over them telling them how to behave and who to say hello to. I could have described to you the sight of many huddled parents peeking through the shades used to cover the two windows that look off into the parent waiting area and how I was happy to see that I wasn’t the only parent who positioned myself outside the window ready to pounce if and when I was needed. Of course, I wasn’t, but my overzealous nature did allow me to see Mia doing a variety of “moves” I was quite proud of. I could have explained, in depth, how she was stretching and jumping, running and playing, bouncing on the trampoline and “swimming” in a ball pit. I could have told you how it touched my heart to see her in a group free of ridicule, hard looks, and competition – all of the un-pleasantries of her daily life replaced with compassion, understanding and love. I could have told you how it’s in moments like those that I know that Roger and myself are connected in ways parents of a typical child wouldn’t understand – we are connected in a continual dance of sorrow and joy, forever mingled with anticipation and fear but always moments like these come to give us hope for the future.
And, one would have thought that early week successes such as those would have jump started my need, or want, to write; but yet it didn’t. One would have thought that seeing Mia in such a wonderful atmosphere, doing such wonderful things, would have fueled a desire within me to tell you all about her small accomplishments, but alas it did not. And so, Tuesday came and went without a post.
On Wednesday Mia had her first wellness check-up in a year. Her previous pediatrician retired and she was a few months overdue for her yearly appointment. It didn’t go so well. And I could have written a very detailed post outlining the reasons for my unhappiness with the outcome of this important appointment – disappointment stemming from the fact that we were completely mislead. I could have told you how we didn’t actually see a pediatrician but instead a Nurse Practitioner. Or, how when I asked to speak with the Doctor I was told very curtly he was not in that day and only ever sees patients on an appointment only basis (I thought that was what we had.) I could have told you how angry I was to have told them on the phone beforehand that Mia needs special accommodations and cannot handle long waiting periods. And how shocked I was at their total disregard of this information and the ridiculous amount of time we were expected to patiently wait with our autistic child – she waited over a half hour just to be escorted to another “waiting” room (the office) where she was then expected to continue sitting patiently for another hour just for the appointment to be over. I could have explained to you how I had outlined specifically what I was looking for in a pediatrician only to have every single one of those expectations completely overlooked. And all from a private practice. I could have written a post about how when Mia finally left there she had a clean bill of health and two hands and arms riddled with teeth marks (due to self-injurious behaviors brought forth when Mia feels out of control). I could have told you about all of these things on Wednesday, but I just didn’t have the heart.
Thursday and Friday both came and went without a post. I could have written about the many things we were doing to get ready for the upcoming blizzard that smacked our state with such force last night that we are now completely snowed in with 33 inches of it outside my kitchen window; but as you well know, I did not.
I could have written any number of posts this week but I didn’t. Would you like to know why? No, it was not because I was so extremely busy that I just didn’t have time. I wish that were the case. It was because, per usual, I was being irrational. Demanding. A fool – walking around in a ghastly state, a horrid mood. I was too busy picking fights with Roger at every turn. I was too busy harassing him about things out of his control. I was too busy being immature to see the importance of what I am doing here, too busy being foul to understand how important this blog is to me, too busy being negative to see the positive effect writing this blog has on my soul. I was just too busy neglecting the important things in life – the people I love, the things I love, and writing.
Although this week was long and treacherous, probably more so for Roger than I. And, although, this week was hard, I have grown and learned. I have learned that writing these words is therapeutic for me. I have learned that writing them forces me to evaluate my feelings, and in doing so I am better able to see where my emotions come from and thus better able to channel that energy (negative or otherwise) in the right direction; to the proper place.
But that isn’t enough. Sometimes it is just not enough to learn from your mistakes. It just isn’t sufficient, or fair, for me to say I learned my lesson and move on. It’s vital that I also apologize to those I have effected. But I also think that more important then even an apology is my actions in the following days; for without any sort of change in my actions all I have “learned” and written here today was for naught.
(Roger, I love you. I am sorry. Your words to me the other night spoke volumes. Once again you’ve anchored me to the truth, and as usual, I am left speechless.)