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Monday, October 7, 2013

I Think I Broke My Kid

I think I am starting to see the consequences of my ways.  How I handle things.  And ultimately, how I am showing my kids to handle things.

I just got back from a conference with my son's teachers.  He is in fifth grade and classified as learning disabled.  It is three weeks in and I am already in for a meeting with his team.  Apparently, he is "checked out".  Already.  Overall, we haven't had to come in this early for a meeting since we made the choice, about three years ago, to allow him to be classified.  I thought everything was going relatively well, with some minor glitches.  If asked how things were going, even specifically, he would reply, "Great!".  Things are not great.  I got the call last week.

What I heard the teachers saying was that, my typically anxious kid, was showing no signs of anxiety.  At all.  And we were seeing the same at home.  Everything is just ducky.  At least that is what Ethan wants us all to think.  The reality is, he is overwhelmed and won't ask for help.

I think as parents, we try to shield our children from some of life's unpleasantries in an effort to preserve and prolong their blissful childhood.  I do this.  All. The. Time.

During the conference, we got to a point where I was forced to give a more detailed explanation of what has been happening in the house and some changes that are about to happen.  "That is a lot to have going on.  That has to be stressful."  I reply, "I'm fine."  I hear myself and I realize that is just what Ethan has been saying.  And he doesn't think he needs help either...and God forbid he asks.  What have I done?

I have set him up for failure.  I often refuse to ask for help, because in my eyes, it means I have failed.  I am sure the kids are aware of this.  My husband gets upset when he finds I have done or attempted to do something maybe I shouldn't have without help.  I snap back that I don't need help.  I know it's because I am secretly angry about the changes going on inside of me and want to prove that I am stronger than my moronic immune system, RA and fibromyalgia.  I may have used up all the hot water in the shower that day because it is the only place I allow myself to cry and acknowledge how much I hurt, how exhausted I am and how scared I am about the future and what life will be like and what people must think of me.  But ask me how I am..."Fine/Good/Great."  Unless I am comfortable enough, I won't let my guard down. I don't say I am overwhelmed.  I never wanted to be that person that someone regretted asking, "How have you been?"

My kids aren't stupid. They know I am lying through my teeth to other people.  They know I say I am fine and refuse help altogether.

The teachers were kind in offering that perhaps I give the kids a bit more information so that the kids don't form their own conclusions.  What I kids don't trust me to be honest with them I have failed them.  I have been so concerned with what others may think of me if I am honest or ask for help.  It is such a painful thing for me to admit and now my kids are doing the same.

I need to find a balance where I don't loose too much pride or comfort.  I need to show my children that it is OK to ask for help and that it isn't always the best thing to say you are doing great, especially when you are not.  But I don't want to encourage whining or needless excuses either.  I want them to be strong, independent and productive individuals.  I have to wonder if it is too late.  If I have already unknowingly instilled bad habits in them?  How do I fix this?

What is encouraging is that it is early in the school year and we are catching this.  Maybe this new "showing" of anxiety is partially due to maturity.  Maybe it is not all my fault.  Maybe my beautiful boy is teaching me a lesson~

Maybe, my boy just broke me...

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Falling Back & Pushing Forward

RA is no joke.  I am about a week away from being reminded of just how funny it never has been.  It's not the pain that breaks's the quality of my hours, days, sleep, play and brain that does.  I have been without an infusion since June 4th.  I just got the go ahead to start them again.  Except I cannot because I am having surgery soon.  I decided to eek it out until after.  I have to wait until mid November to have the next infusion.  On top of that, for the next 3 weeks, they are taking me off the methotrexate.  This rattles me a bit.  I missed my weekly dose, once.  That is all it took.  One time and I never missed it again.  It is that bad.  I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified of what most likely is about to happen.  A lot of people don't know or understand how bad RA can feel or be.  A lot do.  I really am not ready to fall that far backwards.

There have been no posts here because my hands and fingers ache.  Otherwise, I have been doing well.  Our summer went by too quickly, but was packed with a lot of happenings.  August was a blur of stressful events.  I am thankful for family and friends that were there for us.  Checking in, popping by and calling.  All at what seemed to be perfect moments where I gladly welcomed the distraction from all that was happening.

September came and it was time for school.  The time of year I dread the most because I have to give up my babies for a good part of too many days per week.  We decided to take some family time and extend our annual camping trip with my sisters and their families (aka Sister~Fest!).  We went a few days ahead and enjoyed some kayaking, beach days and a trip to Gettysburg.  It was wonderful.  My sisters and their crews showed up for their usual days and we all enjoyed the best Sister~Fest yet!

October is going to be a blur as well.  The next couple weeks are filled with doctor appointments, tests and ultimately, the surgery.  I don't care if someone minimizes the procedure, but what I can't tolerate is how all this makes me feel being minimized.  I just want to get to the other side of October 15th.  To know that I made it. Alive (oh yeah... I have had many surgeries in the past.  This is the first time I have thought, "what if I don't make it?").  I have reason, above the typical risks, to worry about this. To know that it's done.  No more fantasy of my body suddenly being healthy enough for "one more".  Remove the option so I can move on. Not only am I looking forward to healing from the actual surgery, but I am looking to heal altogether.  Get this done so I can resume treatment for RA, etc.  Get this done so I can start to process the end of something I wasn't ready to be ended (last week I went through a flurry of purging the attic and house of baby items.  All except the crib and changing table.  I couldn't bring myself to let go.).  I want to move on.  Forward. And for the love of God!  I would like to have a shot at a healthy Thanksgiving and Christmas...for the first time in FOUR years!!

This is where I am at.  This is where I have been.  I have not been ignoring or avoiding anybody.  I have just been busy trying to keep up with life. I appreciate the concern and you stopping by here and it means a lot that so many take the time to check in.  It truly does.

I am hoping to pick up this blog where it originated (a weight loss journey) when I am recovered.  Somehow, despite all the steroids, I have dipped well below the weight that started this journey.  I haven't researched it yet, but I wonder how much a uterus weighs?  Can I count it as an official loss?  I am hoping that it weighs somewhere in the neighborhood of 100 pounds.  What do ya think?