I really thought we were past this; trials of parenting

Since Trump stole the 2016 election, I have REALLY been a “donkey on the edge” as I have watched him rape and pillage our democracy with each passing day. Some days I am so depressed about what is happening to our country that I can barely get out of bed. I joined the Resistance on November 9th. I have spent countless hours organizing CALLS TO ACTION in my many secret liberal Facebook groups, called my senators and representatives and participated in rallies. It is exhausting trying to wrestle back our democracy from a fascist dictator, especially with a GOP enabler Congress. I was already completely exhausted before this happened as a result of parenting my adopted son.

Those of you who know me are aware of the hell my now 16 year old son put me through for over a decade. He really started to turn things around when he was in 8th grade. He is now in 10th grade at a regular high school after spending years in therapeutic day schools. For the most part, he is doing incredibly well. He has a condition called sensory integration dysfunction (SID) which causes him to be overly sensitive to sensory messages. In other words, tags in clothing bother him, he will only wear one pair of shoes for months and months until they fall apart and he wears the same sweatshirt day after day. We use an ungodly amount of fabric softener to keep his socks in an acceptable state of play, so to speak.

For years, it was terrible. He would refuse to go to school because the shoes he had been wearing for six months didn’t feel right that day or he couldn’t find any underwear that was acceptable. It was absolutely devastatingly soul destroying, dealing with this day in and day out for years. You don’t outgrow SID, you just learn to cope with it. It got a lot better, for the most part, as he matured. Those nightmare mornings were becoming a distant memory.

Then, this morning, it reared its ugly head. His shoes actually fell apart last week so we had to get new ones. I have to tell you that shoe shopping used to be the most tortuous experience on earth. I was typically in tears before we ended up making a purchase. It was a 2-parent operation since it was so perilous to one’s mental health. These days, it is just fine. Not even vaguely traumatic, anymore.

For some reason, this morning, the shirt situation turned out to be the deal breaker. My son had on his pants, his new shoes and he headed downstairs to the basement to get a shirt. Unable to find one, he came upstairs, declared his shoes hurt him and went back to bed. He only wears 5 shirts. My poor husband does laundry constantly. The thing is that my son throws his dirty clothes on the floor or behind his bed. People with SID typically are extremely messy. Since the world they inhabit is filled with confusing mixed sensory messages, their living space reflects that state.

17190827_1804440929581294_7496936617188160758_nI just didn’t have the heart to clean up his room, yesterday after the weekend. It is SO difficult for me to get under his bed..where everything seems to migrate…that I just left it. That was my downfall. As it turned out, 2 of the 5 shirts he will wear were under his bed. Nothing, I mean nothing we suggested was acceptable. We even suggested wearing one of my husband’s shirts. Nope. Nope. Nope. So, he didn’t go to school. Every time he misses school, he gets behind. So be it. I tried my best to find a solution and it wasn’t acceptable. I can’t do high school for my son. But, I tell him that when he does graduate, I expect to cross that fucking stage with him, in a cap and gown and a diploma in my hand. Because, if it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t make it!

I’ve written a series of posts about medical marijuana. If you want to read more you can click on the “Medical Marijuana” tag at the top of my page.

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