I’m reading more about parenting a kid with ADHD. Mostly what I’m getting from these books is that I need to keep doing what I’m doing but add more patience. That’s been my entire experience of being an adult. “This task is too hard.” “Well. Then try harder.” Find more buckets of patience to dip into. Find more wisdom. Find more kindness. Just fucking do it.
I’m not doing things wrong. I’m just underestimating how much diligence is necessary to see a task through. This is hard for me. I’m not a finisher. I’m not the one who sits still and keeps a routine going for years just for the sake of completion. I have ideas! New beginnings! Finishing is for boring people. *cough* Or something.
It’s amusing figuring out more about my own brain in this process.
I feel like I’ve gained new depths of understanding around why my existence is traumatizing. It’s not really about me, Krissy. It’s about my membership in a group that is… the problem. When I recognize how much support and medical care I’ve gotten over the last few years, when I think about how luck I am to have a partner like Noah who provides direct support plus access to buckets of cash…
If I were still struggling I would hate someone in my position with the fire of a thousand suns. Sometimes it is hard not to hate myself for existing with all this fucking safety.
Oh. Yeah. That’s what they meant. I have all this fucking safety and it being available to me and my spoiled as fuck children… that feels unfair. It feels horrible and awful. My children are not better or more valuable or more worthy. Why in the fuck do they get to be safe?
Because life is fucking traumatic and unfair.
How do I inhabit this space with humility? How do I hurt the fewest number of people possible? Even sharing the good things isn’t neutral. It rubs in folks’ noses that I have something they want.
It’s all complicated and painful.
Today we get to have a meeting with an insurance sales person about long term care insurance. I’m already borderline disabled (I’ve been having some good days lately so I ADMIT NOTHING) and things will get worse as I age.
I’m having a hard time just standing up right now because of how badly my back hurts. I love the baby. I’m really grateful she’s willing to sit in things like strollers because I’m not coping that well with her weight.
I love having a fat baby and all, but could you slow down the weight gain JUST A TAD?! No? Ok. Fair enough. I get it. Fat is beautiful. Keep it up, darling. My back will… figure something out. My back will figure out how to send burning lightning bolts of pain up and down my spine is what my back will figure out. It’ll be rad.
My daughter thanked me for trying to not be a burden on her later in life. That was a trifle awkward. But hey… I’m trying.