It's been a while since I've done one of these Firefly Friday posts. And really, that's both good and bad. Good because there is nothing that is so intense that it's just bubbling over and I just have to get it out of my head before I explode.
Bad because there is a lot that is just in there taking up space. Many different emotions, wishes, prayers, and "if onlys" that I don't know what to do with.
So...here's where I try to let some out--in a small, semi-controlled stream. Kind of like slowly releasing a valve on a pressure cooker--and trying not to be badly burned on the steam.
Where are we?
My Firefly is quickly getting close to age eleven. That makes at least ten years that we have been trying to figure her out. Ten years of doctor visits, therapy appointments, sensory drawers, checklists, behavior plans, etc.
That's a long time, y'all.
So very, very long for this weary Momma, and it's so hard to know that this journey has, in all likelihood, only just begun.
But I can't really go there. It makes my head spin.
Let's look at today.
Today, Firefly is royally pissed off.
Today, I am home, writing, while my sweet child throws the monster of all tantrums because she is missing her American Girl Book Club. She is missing said Book Club specifically because of her behavior and rudeness and disrespect earlier in the week.
Yes, she was warned. Yes, she did it anyway. No, it doesn't keep her from her meltdown today--that we ALL knew was coming.
Today, we are in the midst of a bad spell. Her "issues" seem to have taken over her for the past few weeks and she is doing things that she knows are wrong.
Today, it is hard to remember that the bad spells won't last forever.
Today, she is getting bigger, continuing to grow physically and emotionally--although slowly.
Today, I'm a little po'ed myself. I am worn out, emotionally dry, and having a hard time liking this child.
Tomorrow, though, may be a good day. We are having more of those than we have had before.
Tomorrow, Firefly might choose to use one of her coping strategies to calm herself before the tantrum hits. She has coping tools. We've given them to her and reminded her about them and shown her how to use them. She just doesn't like to. But maybe tomorrow she will try.
Tomorrow, she may have had a good night's sleep. All may be right in her world, and she may wake up with a smile on her face.
Tomorrow, I might be happy to see her in the morning.
Tomorrow, her Sensory Processing Disorder may not win. It might be controllable and she might be able to enjoy just living.
When I force myself to look back, realistically, I see how far we have all come. My little one that used to scream like we were dipping her toes in acid when we put socks on her just asked me to buy her knee-high sparkly boots at Target.
She can take a bath by herself. And dress herself.
And she hardly ever falls out of the dinner chair anymore.
We can make it through days on end sometimes, without a tantrum. Where there were once three to four every day, lasting hours at a time, there have been times when we have gone THREE WEEKS without one.
This week isn't like that, but next week might be.
We are learning. We are growing. We are surviving.
We have hope. We have prayer. We have good friends and close family and our Father.
And we cling to them all. And we wait for tomorrow.