I’m learning the older I get the more reflective I get. Our brains have such a capacity to go back in time even if you don’t want to be there. Such was the case last Thursday night as I attended my 11th high school Open house. Can’t pretend I’m a young mom anymore, that ship has sailed. (ugh)  Truth be told….I struggled. A lot. Our first experience of a high school open house was for Nikki in 2008. She was taking all honors classes and we actually enjoyed the open house. We got a taste of the advanced instruction she was receiving and we walked around the high school with several friends whose kids were classmates of hers. Brian was only 4 then. We certainly were aware of all his challenges but were still very much full of hope.

Now here I was at Brian’s open house eleven years later and it was drastically different, no surprise there, than it was with our older kids.  The feeling of hope that I had then did not feel quite as strong as now although it will never escape me. We are now “life skills” parents. That is the term the state uses to describe a broad spectrum of special needs kids once they hit a certain age. You’d think by now these labels wouldn’t affect me. I mean seriously, we’ve racked up quite a few at this point and I’ve survived. But still I feel like that label creates isolation for me as a parent. I know this because just a few years ago I was one of those mainstream parents so when you experience the difference it feels like a punch in the gut whether you want to feel that way or not. I’m a different kind of mom and I’m good with that but sometimes it is not easy.

I tried to snap out of the past that night and not think about our previous open houses but that’s the thing…. it is impossible to control what we are feeling. The way our mind and body processes information is the result of how we are built and emotions have a way of getting the best of us. That is our humanity I guess and I could feel myself slipping into despair. You know that feeling when you are trying with every thread of your being not to cry. I could feel a sob aching to be released so much so that I think my voice actually sounded a bit different. Understand….My feelings are not about the school or the program. In fact, that part was great. The two teachers I actually spoke with are excellent and one of them gave my blog a shout out!  Thank you for that, Mr. Robbins! It is about the emotional impact of raising a very special child and the isolation it is impossible not to feel. I excused myself after two classes to take refuge in my home hoping I could make it out the door before the tears started to flow. I did make it, but here’s the ridiculous thing, I had forgotten that I drove with my friend and without a car I had no where to go. Classic. After a few phone calls I made it home and finally was able to release the emotion I so needed to. I’ve been the face of 4 children going through this school and their experiences and mine as their mom have been freakishly different. So different it is weird and I wonder how all 4 of these kids are the products of the same genetics.

It is homecoming week so I think it is time for me to hide under my rock for a few days. It’s been a while and it’s time for me to regroup. Even in full acceptance of our situation it will always hurt when events take place without my son. I didn’t buy a suit for Brian or order flowers for his date for the dance. Instead, like we always do we will find something else to do and count our many blessings in the midst of our reality. If you’ve been with me since the beginning you know what the metaphor of my rock means. My rock is not a bad place or a sign of weakness or defeat. It’s about me knowing when I need to reset. Its about self preservation. Its about honesty. it’s about reflection. Its about pain. It’s about perseverance. It’s about love.

It’s about taking all our labels and making them #lunderful.

Or maybe…….this week …..it might be about some retail therapy. 🙂