Not the Most Pleasant Post

I wrote an “inspirational” Instagram post yesterday after Truman had a day of roaring success at school, following 6 previous nightmare days wherein he struggled to acclimate to first grade. Yay us! Victory was ours. Faith overcomes all things.

And then today, Truman reverted back to panic mode over the prospect of returning to school. He feels it’s too long and there are too many factors out of his control, such as when he gets to have a snack. He fought me at every juncture this morning. I swallowed the bilious panic rising from my gut when I thought of engaging in this impossible, negative battle day after day, all year long.

I had to forcibly remove him from the car. We were late. He kept taking off his shoes to impede our progress. When he saw the other students already in the classroom, he melted down. At this point, the Assistant Principal sidled over and let me know there was going to be a lock down drill in a few minutes, and if I wanted to take T on a little drive and return after, he was down with that. Lock downs (even practice ones) are one of my son’s fears. Which I get.

So we left and got fries. We came back post-drill and had the same lovely fight scene featuring me dragging/cajoling/carrying Truman into school.

Not that anybody asked for a play by play of the fresh morning hell I’ve been encountering since school commenced. So why am I writing about it? I don’t know. Because it’s on my mind, I guess.

I drove to Costco after leaving him at school and had nothing good to say about anything. Just swears. That’s all my lips were capable of uttering for a good hour. I called Jeff and he and possibly a couple people on the bulk grain aisle got a bit of an earful.

Anxiety and autism? I am so over them. Special needs parenting? It seems like a cruel joke invented to make every single aspect of life so especially difficult. Having children? Sorry, folks of neurotypical offspring. I am utterly jaded. If anyone asked my opinion right now on whether they should have kids, I don’t know that I could honestly recommend it to them.

So that’s my stormy frame of mind.

I came home, unloaded the Costco groceries, ate the Costa Vida salad I treated myself to since the day was a clustercuss, and spent an hour cleaning the neglected and uber dirty kitchen. While I cleaned, I listened to the next General Conference talk in my queue, which was “He That Shall Endure to the End, the Same Shall Be Saved” by Claudio D. Zivic. Do you ever find that the thing that you happen to stumble on naturally on an ugly day is the exact right thing? And the exact right thing at the exact right time? Because that’s what happened here.

This talk, while mainly directed at people who are at odds with the Church and evaluating whether or not to continue in the Gospel, was kind of a conduit of reassurance and hope that I was grasping for.

There’s a lot of good stuff in this talk, and I basically let the tears and the stress flow from me as I listened. I’m feeling rather inadequate once again on the parenting front. I’m feeling my weakness and my desperation for change. The words, “The Lord will make ‘weak things become strong'” gave me a hand to grasp and pull myself from my pit of misery.

Zivik also said this: “Life is difficult for each of us. We all have a time of trials, a time of happiness, a time for making decisions, a time for overcoming obstacles, and a time for taking advantage of opportunities.”

I needed to hear that life isn’t a perpetual misery cycle, though it sometimes feels that way. It’s punctuated by periods of great difficulty and moderate difficulty, but also has stretches of relative peace. There will always be variation, which is good, because it gives me hope when I am in the trough of a wild sea.

I hung some toddler pictures of Jack and happy hunting pictures of my dad on the bulletin board as the talk ended and I felt that my Heavenly Parents were calming me with a promise that the awful days and the extended periods of awful days a) serve a purpose in changing me into a better person and b) won’t last. There will be respite.

Then I drank a Diet Coke and graded student essays. And the bitterness ran out of me.

Today’s not so bad, I’ve determined. It’s looking up.

  14 comments for “Not the Most Pleasant Post

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *