I sacrifice my weekends, nights and sleep schedule to make a little extra money for bills. I give up my time, spending most of my day at a park in order to put my child in an awesome program.
As I release those people, things and even hopes and desires in my life that were not the right fit for me, I am am able to continue on my own personal journey with renewed hope and freedom.
Growth truly is a beautiful thing. Growth without judgement or expectation is even more so.
This weekend, I shift my work schedule to nights. It’s only three nights a week. Three very long nights, one of which is a more than eight hours, closer to twelve. I used to work an evening/swing shift back in my newspaper days, and that was when my kiddo was little. I was up early…
Up until today, I had a schedule if blogging once a week. It’s been great so far. I have a few posts queued up, but would like more time to review them before posting. There are more pressing matters in my life at the moment that need attention, so I will now post every other…
My choice to become stay-at-home parent was not entirely a a choice.
We are often taught, especially as women and mothers, that we are supposed to be self-sacrificing. That we aren’t good enough unless we are giving our all. This is not a fulfilling or healthy situation to be forced into.
This isn’t fucking high school. It’s life. And there ain’t no one getting out alive. Suck it up and deal with your own shit without bringing me down.
Because I plan on living as happily as I know how and cultivating my good karma and enjoying my family and things I’ve worked fucking hard for.
Autism and ADHD. My son has them both. And gets treated for both. In ways that are apparently controversial.
Over the past several years, I’ve become part of a very special community, quite literally. I’m still finding my way, but I’m learning the ropes of being a Special Needs parent.
This sounds horrible. Why would you grieve for a child who is a living and loving an part of your life right here and now?
But it’s true. I grieve every time I realize that things I thought he would be able to do are just not attainable. It seems selfish, I know. It’s not his fault, I should be able to accept him for who he is and be happy for all he can do and all the things that he is so very good at.
Reality isn’t that easy or perfect.