"From the rising of the sun to the place where it sets, the name of the Lord is to be praised." Psalm 113:3

Friday, April 4, 2014

Emotions in SPD: Part 2...


You may remember that a few weeks ago, I started a series talking about different emotions that are a part of Sensory Processing Disorder in our family.

And by series, I mean that I wrote one post and was so emotionally drained that it's taken me about a month to try another one.

Because the first feeling that I wrote about was Anger.  And I realized that I really was pretty angry--about a whole lot of the SPD garbage.  Thankfully, it seems that I wasn't the only one who has felt that way and had the insanity to admit it in public. 

Also, thankfully, I have set up a pretty darn good support system.

So now, a month later, I'm ready to tackle another one of those sticky emotions.  This one, I'm going to call FEAR.


This one, although a bit easier to admit out loud, is harder for me to deal with on the inside.

See, I think lots of people understand anger.  I mean, look around on a daily basis.  Road rage, rolling our eyes at the person who dared bring eleven items into a ten-item-or-less line, pushing to get the best spot to see the concert...we've all experienced anger.  Like all the time.

But fear?  It's not nearly as cool to admit that we are fearful.  Because, after all, we're the grown-ups here.  We're the ones who have everything in hand.  What on earth should we be scared of?

Well, I'll tell you:

I'm scared for the future.  I'm scared that Firefly might not be able to do things--that she might be held back by this invisible disability.   That she won't be able to function in a job.  With a child.  That her sensory processing problems will affect her relationships, friendships, business future.

That she won't notice that they do.

I'm scared that she might never be able to leave my home.  That scares me both for her, and for me.  I'm scared that people won't understand the fear.  Firefly looks like a normal kiddo.  It's me that looks like the irrational lunatic.

What if?  What if?  What if?...

I'm scared that this disability is most likely never-ending.  I only let myself go there for short bursts of time, because if I think about it too long, I will go into the depths from which I'm scared I may never have the strength to come out.  She's eleven now.  We've been living like this, every day, for eleven years.

What if it never stops?

What if she keeps growing and getting bigger and stronger and then instead of a petite pre-teen that I am restraining because of a meltdown over math, I have a seventeen year-old young lady that is out of control?

What if?  What if?  What if?...

Little bit of a difference, there.  And it scares me.  Again, for her, and for me, and for the rest of our family members.  'Cuz this kiddo can get a bit wild when she's off on a tangent.

I'm scared about the "what ifs".  What if something we tried in the past to help her instead will end up hurting her in the future?  What if she's never able to get off of her medication and it alters her brain chemistry forever?  What if there is that one perfect therapy that will "fix" her and we decide not to try it?  What if we do "fix" her and we take away another precious piece of her?  

What if?  What if?  What if?...

It's enough to turn you into that irrational lunatic I mentioned before.

I'm scared for the others in our family.  My dear Turtle and sweet Bug.  What hurts have been done to them as we all live with Firefly?  Turtle has said more than once that she will never have children, and although that may just be her teenaged hormones firing, it may be much more than that.  It may be that she thinks they are all like Firefly.  It may be that she's scared that hers will be.  It may be that she sees me not handling this parenting thing all that well on those tough days, and I've given her the impression that it's not worth it.

So much fear, worry, and, yes--still the anger.  And on my bad days, it can and very often will consume me.  And that's not pretty at all.

But on my good days, I know that My Father has placed a bit of his word on my heart.  Does this sound familiar?

"Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God."  (Philippians 4:6)

God knows.  He knows.  And He's got this.

Man, I wish I would remember that!

Are fear or anger a big piece of your family's struggles with SPD?  I'd love to know what works for you...

4 comments:

  1. It doesn't make you insane to admit the fear and anger :) The what if questions will drive you crazy. We think about these because we want to make sure our child is prepared for the future. I literally could relate to this post. I love the bible verse at the end of this post. Your right God knows. He will help figure a plan. I think when I say this I have to remind myself that I have to stop worrying about the what ifs, stop focusing on what my son can't do but build off the strengths of what he can do. It's much easier said then done. My oldest use to get frustrated with my son until he was much older. He started to understand. For his parenting class we went in and talked about autism, what it was, what we have been through, what is working for him. It was amazing seeing my son educating others. Not sure why I mentioned that but you might be surprised at how much your older ones understand and it just might surprise you. I think I will stop commenting now as I don't want to say the wrong thing. I love how honest you are in your posting. It's nice to see real true feelings of what others go through, it makes you feel not alone. Great post!

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    1. Thank you so much for your words! I'm glad you could relate to this--I guess that means that if I'm insane, then at least there will be one other person in the funny farm with me, haha! Thank you for letting me see that there is hope for my others. Sometimes it's just so unfair-feeling. I'm so glad you are sharing with me.

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  2. I have a three year old with SPD and I feel so terrified sometimes. People act like it's no big deal but her issues are a daily battle that leaves me in tears most nights. Thank you for your post! It's a lonely road to travel sometimes.

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    1. I absolutely hate the loneliness. The isolation and the "invisibility" of this disorder. I'm sorry for all of your tears--please know that you are not alone in the fight.

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