Posts tagged ‘compassion fatigue’

Mrs. Fix-it

I am undoubtedly harder on myself than I am on anyone else. I am a fixer, and recognizing that I probably can’t fix the situation we’re in with C brings me a lot of discomfort. In my mind, there is some flaw I could have repaired along the way that would have ensured a different outcome than this.

“This,” is a simple word that involves a complex set of issues and solutions. My tolerance level for all things C, surprisingly to me, is very low. I thought I would have recharged while he was gone, but instead I grew used to not living on edge, not feeling like drama was around every corner, and not feeling tense at any given moment. So happy was I, enjoying my own life for the first time in too long to remember, that any threat to that enjoyment brings me down further and faster than I would like.

What Therapist NC told me today is that I need to accept it. All of it. Accept that C is a challenge and always will be. Accept that I’m frazzled and fried and maybe am not capable of having a good relationship with C. Accept that I can’t fix everything. Accept, accept, accept. But don’t go so far into acceptance that it crosses the line into giving up and giving in.

Just where is that line? I admit I don’t really know. I have been badgered by the reality of life with C for so long that while part of me understands I suffer from compassion fatigue, the other part still thinks I can fix (or could have fixed) all of it. On one hand, I moved mountains for this kid, I know I did. I did everything humanly possible to prepare him for this life of his. I did all the things, I know that. On the surface, I can look at it all and know. But what I wonder, deep down, is if in doing all the things, I somehow lost sight of just being C’s Mom, and if that somehow had some effect on where we are now.

And there it is, that self doubt at which I am exceptionally skilled. NC says parents of kids in residential treatment think their kid will either come home totally changed or that their kid is incapable of change. I don’t believe I fall into either camp, really, because I still maintain that I’m the one I expected to change. Whether I changed too much or not at all, I’m not sure, but I know I’m the one I’m most frustrated with. One way or another, I think I expected too much, and mostly of myself.

Today NC middle-named me. Yes, he *actually* middle named me. Right before he told me I am good enough, I have done enough. In perhaps the most therapy-ish moment I’ve ever had with him, he said these words to me. And then he repeated them. And then again. I suppose I needed to hear them. The trick now is to believe them, even way deep down.

April 15, 2019 at 11:29 pm 2 comments

Focus

I can go entire days without much thought of C. This has troubled me somewhat; what kind of mother doesn’t think about her child on a regular basis? If I tracked my thoughts it would probably startle me how little I think of him. However, I have realized it isn’t really a lack of thoughts about C. Rather, it’s a lack of total brain consumption regarding all things C. For the first time since he was born, really, I haven’t had to think about the C to-do list. What specialist should he see next? Is he making friends? Do I need to have another conversation with the special ed teacher? Should we start occupational therapy again? What new supplement could we add to the list that might help? Is this school good for him? 

What, who, why, when, and how…my head has been full since day one.

No, I am not a helicopter parent. Not in the traditional sense, anyway. My goal has never been to protect C from life, but to prepare him for it. Any mama bear action has been with the goal of making it into a learning experience for him. Running him around to therapies, doctors, and IEP meetings was a necessary part of getting him to reach his independence. We still have miles to go in that department, and he may never fully get there in the way other kids do. Still, that will always be our goal.

But with C gone, I have found time to focus on me again. My happiness, my life; the focus is all me. I had been working toward all of that before he left, but now that he is fully someone else’s responsibility, I can focus on gaining my *own* independence once again. I recognize that I’ll have to balance this when he returns, and I’m hopeful I’ll have enough of a running start that I will not once again fall prey to the need to focus every brain cell on C.

December 30, 2018 at 11:11 pm Leave a comment


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