The Low Place

I wrote that snowy Saturday post that was all hearth fires and loveliness, and I haven’t been able to write a thing since, despite starting several posts.

It’s been hard.

Jack is not sick. He’s healthy and robust. But he’s time consuming and destructive. He sleeps less than ever before, possibly because he’s twelve and a half years old. He is aggressive when he doesn’t instantly get his way.

This is not a phase. It is not an ear infection. It’s the fruition of the crystal clear prompting I had on the day Jack almost killed me and two of his brothers in the car in the middle of that intersection, when the Holy Ghost spoke to my mind and said, “It isn’t going to get easier with Jack.”

It just isn’t. At least we know this. I appreciate the honesty.

I have watched his behaviors escalate. I communicate constantly with his team at school, with his pediatrician, with the psychiatrist, with the behaviorist. Jeff and I are constantly trouble-shooting. What more should we be doing? What do we need to change? How can we keep the rest of the family afloat as we handle all of Jack’s pressing needs?

And I have just felt like crap on a stick. What is the point? It isn’t going to get easier. It is going to get harder. And it’s already pretty hard.

All of this makes my head hurt. It’s a boulder sitting square on my shoulders and neck. It also feels like some fat, furry marsupial is sitting on my head and wrapping it’s big gross tail around my face.

I don’t like writing when things are like this. It feels like complaining, when it’s actually just the truth, unvarnished.

I could talk about all the things that I would like to be different. I could talk about all the things that we can’t do because all our energy is focused on surviving. I could make a big list of broken household things. I could outline all the ways Jack has been literally beating up his family members.

But I don’t want to. I’m weary and I’m in a low place. My faith is in a holding pattern. I’m not getting any major epiphanies. I feel that God is helping me function, despite the sadness, so that’s appreciated. I’m in the trough of the wave, though, and my experience tells me I could be here for some time.

 

  7 comments for “The Low Place

  1. Susan
    January 13, 2017 at 7:36 am

    Thank you. Thank you for being Jack’s mother and giving him the love that only a mother can give. Thank you for doing your best as he grows and changes and brings new challenges. Thank you for being willing to share your story for it helps to remind me to not judge others because the bits and pieces of their lives that I see are just that, bits and pieces. Be kind to yourself and always remember that the best you can do is all you can do and the best you can do is enough.

  2. Sarah
    January 13, 2017 at 10:00 am

    I hate the low place. Love you.

  3. Emily M.
    January 13, 2017 at 12:48 pm

    It’s okay to write about the low places.

  4. Pamela
    January 13, 2017 at 1:09 pm

    Thank you for writing about the low places. Right now we are in one too. Weirdly, it’s comforting to know someone else’s family has similar challenges with broken things, trashed furniture, violent behaviors and just getting through to an Autistic son. Sometimes, it is a heavy, heavy load. Thank you for your blog, your honesty, and your insights. You have helped us. Your site and reading about the Savior help us make it through these extraordinarily, mind boggling days.

  5. Barb
    January 13, 2017 at 2:37 pm

    Sending love, even in the trough of the wave.

  6. January 13, 2017 at 3:00 pm

    Plus, it’s January. Blegh

  7. Amy
    January 14, 2017 at 11:57 am

    I’m so sorry. There is so much change in transition and growth and the one thing that stays the same is your strength, your empathy, the ability to just breathe and know it is enough. While most families experience growth from a neurotypical point of view, your family is walking these miles in a unique, and strenuous path, one that few, if any can understand. I am sorry that the weight of this is soul-crushingly heavy. I know that you will use your God given gifts of writing, eloquence, and honesty to make it all bearable, and help so many in the process. Hopefully, even you.

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