I’ve tried. I really have.
But I just can’t seem to get inside his head.
I have tried to imagine the physical pain that certain sounds bring to his sensitive ears. I have tried to understand how he processes things. But I just can’t. It isn’t for lack of desire or lack of trying.
I believe it. I know it’s true. I know he suffers as a result, but I can’t feel it. I can’t feel it and therefore, cannot understand how to fix it.
Herein lies my problem:
Inside of me there is this NEED. This undeniable need–to FIX things. Now I don’t mean fix things as in “fix the busted microwave”. I mean, fix the boo-boos in my children’s lives–be they emotional or physical. I have decided this is an inherited trait. And I’d like to blame it on my daddy. He’s an innate “fixer” as well. He doesn’t deny this. And now, I guess, neither do I. I guess by fixing things it makes me feel like I am doing a good job and being a good mom. And being a good mom means I love my kids. It validates who I am–the thing I love most about my life–being a mother.
Here’s how this is a problem:
Inevitably, there are things–boo-boos, if you will–that are not fixable and maybe they don’t need fixing. I have said on many occasions that I do not in any way believe that my son is “broken”. He doesn’t need “fixing”. I believe that God created him as the masterpiece that he is. I think I want to fix things so that he can walk through his life and feel proud of who he is, just as he is. Fix it so there is such a huge influx of kids who want to be his friend that we can’t possibly accommodate all the friendship that is offered. Fix it so that his life is not so hard for him to navigate. Fix it so that I can alleviate the constant frustration he feels with everyday tasks that seem mundane to many of us. Fix it so that he sees his amazing gifts, abilities and potential.
So, I, in my own power, can’t fix it. I CAN’T FIX IT. What does that mean about me? I find that my inability to fix these things causes me to doubt my abilities as a mother. Then I start to get sucked into the “vortex of negativity.” It begins to stir up lies in my mind like, “I’m not good enough, because if I were, I’d be able to make this boo-boo okay.” Cause that’s my job as a mom, isn’t it?
Or is it?
Here’s the kicker:
By telling myself that I’m not good enough, am I not doing the same thing to myself that I want my son to STOP doing to himself? Devaluing myself. Beating myself up. Telling myself that I am less than who I really am.
Maybe I should go think about how I can fix that. Maybe not.
I think a big part of being a mom is knowing when to fix stuff and when to let it ride. It is a very fine line and often so hard to identify one situation from the other. I ask the Lord every day to give me the wisdom I need to know the difference.
This mothering business isn’t for the faint of heart. But then again, neither is just being a human being walking around in this crazy crazy world!