The response has been overwhelming. I’m not sure what struck a chord, maybe it was just because I was giving up one of my deepest darkest secrets, maybe because that post was like a train wreck, you just could not not look. Either way, people are starting to share. People are starting to see that we as parents of children with or without special needs need to take care of ourselves, too. Before the incident happened, I knew I needed help, but I looked at everything in terms of how much it would cost. It cost as much for me to see a therapist as it did for Casey to get a session of Occupational Therapy. So I didn’t.
I should have. I should have gone into (more) debt to do it sooner. I should have done whatever it took to have babysitters over more. To badger my friends into watching my kids as much as I did theirs. ANYTHING.
If you are in need of help, tell someone. Do not wait. Do not continue to think you can do it all on your own. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help. Take care of yourself. Who’s going to be there for your kid if his parent isn’t coping? Sometimes medicine is necessary. I’ve always half joked that when they gave the child the diagnosis, they should write a prescription for antidepressants for the mom.
That, right there, is “Daring Greatly,” a la Brene’ Brown. Being genuine and authentic and living outside our fear, that’s where the magic happens. God bless you for being willing to bare you soul, and share your authentic self with others who may be helped by it. Even if outwardly they shame you, cast aside the shame, because inwardly, they might just remember your words one day, and thus seek help before they, too, break.
I don’t know if I’m there yet, but this is exactly what I want with this blog and with my life. Honesty. Authenticity.
except for when I make crap up. But otherwise, you get it.