Out of the Darkness-ish

"This is our transition period." Over and over, we'd remind ourselves, "this is our transition period." This was our time for learning and adjusting and making mistakes and exhaustion crying in the car because we'd realize it was our only 20 minutes alone all week. This was our time to learn what it means to give grace. To ourselves and to our caseworkers and to our sibs, who, contrary to our occasional thoughts, were not taking two hours to get ready in the morning just to fuck with us. There was a sense of loss in our hearts. When we could finally catch our breath after a day of doctors appointments and job coaching appointments and preparing meals and preparing two people to be more independent, not to mention our own schoolwork, we mourned our youth. We mourned this loss of choice. We grieved this hypothetical life of adventurous twenty-somethings who took spontaneous road trips to the shore. And we were crushed by the guilt of it all. Of not feeding them enough vegetables or not reading those library books at bedtime or going to bed at 8:30 because, seriously, how does anyone stay up past 9 anymore?

It's been a while since I've written. Really, it's all felt like kind of a blur--activity clubs, special olympics practices, physical therapy, getting everyone fed, driving and driving and getting gas and driving. Somewhere along the way, we found our pace, but I can't say it hasn't been rough. My first week as a full-time sorta mom, I went hard. Each night I'd write a minute by minute schedule. Walking the dog, making breakfast, doing at-home PT exercises, calling out for everyone to do their last bathroom break before leaving the house. And my meal planning was on point. I was a full-on Pinterest Mom. Four days in, I crashed. Cried like a baby, self-imploded, the works. 

J and I are a great team, but this new dynamic has tested us more than a few times. Where my own communication issues were manageable before sibs, my penchant for not talking about my emotions, like ever, was detrimental. Truly, in some ways, there has been no better therapy for me, no better test of my limits, or of our strength, than this experience. And we are all the more stronger for it.

I can't say that things are entirely peachy keen. I took a break from writing this post because I fell deep in a pot of Kayla's Famous Self-Loathing Chili. While this process has allowed all four of us to grow as individuals and as a family, I struggle with the non-linearity of it all. I struggle that sometimes P regresses and forgets exactly which side of the car he sits on. Or, the world wide extent of drama within activity groups for developmentally disabled adults (like, holy hell, so. much. drama.). And even within myself, who is supposedly the adult™ of these situations, there is a soul crushing density that falls upon me when mental health city goes up in flames. Resilience is a muscle, but sometimes it feels like it was amputated without my even knowing it. The hard hits hurt so much more these days and I'm not sure why. At times I am grasping for clarity but I don't even have the time muddle through this blur.

It's a new year. As a family we are recommitting ourselves to, well, ourselves. We are slowing down and getting into routines. Like seasons rolling by, we must accept that just as winter turns to spring, so too does fall turn to winter. Darkness will most definitely come again, but so will light.