Reflection is an important part of being a special needs parent. I find myself often reflecting back on Curly's life. It is a short life so far, only 4 1/2 years but those years have been packed with so much emotion and just life. Up until a few months ago, I never looked back on my life. If I remembered a time that was of any significance to me, it was because it was something that included my husband or children. Over this summer, I have come to realize that I am two Heathers.
The first Heather is the wife. The woman who balances the checkbook, keeps the dishes and clothes clean, and occasionally cooks (sorry for those who have to eat when that happens). She is the mom of three little girls under 5. She is the warrior advocate for her child with severe autism. She is the person who makes all the calls, knocks on doors, and harasses the special needs community until all my children get the services they deserve. She is the taxi to doctor's appointments, school, and gymnastics classes. She is the woman that acts brave and strong. She does not let anyone see the weaknesses and the stresses of living the life she has to live now thanks to a little thing called autism. She goes on her with her daily activities and demands with a smile but it is a facade because no one can see the emotion behind the wall I have put up.
The second Heather is drained. She is exhausted from the three hours of sleep she lives on every day. She is anxious and worried. She worries about today but also is so scared about the future. She obsesses over every single decision she has made on any given day. She has a bigger "to do" list than she ever could have imagined. She blames herself for her children's struggles every day. She is an emotional mess. She cries, A LOT. When she has time to think, her mind always drifts to the "what if's" that autism has brought into her life. She needs stability and structure just as much as her autistic daughter. She is not strong. She wonders if she can do this day after day. The daily pressures of having special needs children are literally eating away at her. She feels alone even when she is surrounded by people. She has so much baggage she carries around every day that it feels like she is sinking.
Are either one of these Heather's the real one? Do those around me know that I put on a smile for them when I feel like crap inside? Can they see inside me and know that I am crumbling? Can they see that I need a hug or a shoulder to cry on but can not ask for it?
I lost the "real" Heather the day Abigail was diagnosed. I do not know who that person was before that day. All I know is that I had to change to move on from that diagnosis. But deep down, I miss whatever I was before that day nearly three years ago. But at the same time, I do not know if I can get her back. I HAVE to be everything to everyone now which leaves very little time to be anything else.
Maybe one day, I will know who I am, what I am about. It will take a lot of reflection on my part once my kids have grown a little more and can do more for themselves. As a doctor once told me, "You are not running a sprint, you are running a marathon. So slow down, smell the roses, and take time for yourself".
A lesson I really need to learn.
