Much of my life has been spent in upheaval. As a child we had to walk on eggshells around my dad, or one of my relatives were causing upheaval. The life I wanted for myself was going to different. It would be calm. There’d be bumps of course but I had this picture in my head of a happy family running smoothly.
That is NOT what I got. I recently had the opportunity to spend the weekend at my sisters house. Time moved differently there. Everyone was calm. Everyone spoke just barely above a whisper. Everyone had a routine down and it worked. Now I get it I saw a snapshot, and I’m sure they have their share of bumps.
But come on- our meals are more like a school cafeteria everyone talking over each other (remember I only have 2 kids. But at dinner you’d think I had 12). My two kids are oil and water. Little one adores big one, he thinks she’s a pest and has little patience that she doesn’t know what he knows.
My kids both have diagnosis I’m not sure I’ve talked about that much. Little one is in the process of being diagnosed ADHD. First- I am resentful as hell. She was supposed to be my easy child, my neurotypical child. I earned that damn it.
Big one, had issues from the start. He was born with seizures that thankfully resolved by 6 months, tho the last EEG showed “abnormal brainwaves”. He was born with torticollis (basically his he’d was severely tilted to one side and he couldnt untilt it until he had lots of PT. At 4 months he started OT for being behind developmentally. By 18 months he started having panic attacks and his dr said he was pretty sure he would fall on the autism spectrum. He also got lead poisoning from an apartment we were renting. It wasn’t until he started school that we pursued the diagnosiswe already knew- Asperger’s syndrome, anxiety and ADHD. But we knew there was more. We tried public school but he couldn’t fit into their mold so we took him out and I started homeschooling. And after several years that feeling we had that there was something more going on was confirmed he was diagnosed with Bipolar II. My poor kiddo, it has to be hard to be him.
But make no mistake there are days it’s hard to be his mom. He acts a lot like my father and that brings up PTSD memories. Sometimes I’m resentful I didn’t get just one easy child free of acronyms after their name.
And I feel so much guilt. Did I cause it? Either through genes or environment? I’m so full of guilt.