Things aren't always exactly as they seem.
A perfect example presented itself a couple Fridays ago.
I had to go to a bank that I've never been to before. It was clearly not the sort of bank I would frequent.
It was too nice. And I was there for a transaction that has very tender feelings and worry involved.
So I was already uncomfortable.
So I was already uncomfortable.
After we got all done and were back out at the car, Damon was throwing a royal fit and I wasn't sure what even set him off. This is typical. (No, I'm not that stupid, it's just that he will freak out over no apparent reason and has done this since infancy.) Aidan was on sensory overload and his movements and voice were really jerky, with the constant trembling that has been increasing. He was really struggling, and it was obvious Damon's screaming was freaking him out.
I wasn't upset with Damon, he just does that sometimes and we just have to give him a little time to calm down and process it. Sometimes he doesn't, and just eventually goes to sleep.
I wasn't upset with Damon, he just does that sometimes and we just have to give him a little time to calm down and process it. Sometimes he doesn't, and just eventually goes to sleep.
I was, however, still thinking about what I'd just had to do inside the bank... nothing to do at all with Damon's tantrum. As I was trying to safely get him inside and strapped into his seat while he was throwing his arms and head back and kicking, I started to laugh. As I did, Damon moved just so and I happened to look up... to see a man with a very stern expression, watching me intently through our window from the other side of our van.
As I got Damon strapped in and offered a sucker- one more time, he finally stopped screaming and fighting.
As I got Damon strapped in and offered a sucker- one more time, he finally stopped screaming and fighting.
I left with a sad heart. It was that look in his eyes, and the refusal to get on with his own life as he watched me struggling with my own.
If he only knew.
Then on the other end of the spectrum... I'd posted a video about a child with epilepsy very similar to LGS on my FB page. I honestly didn't think anyone would even comment on it. It was very difficult for me to watch, but I'm emotional because I've actually seen those things happen to Aidan and his brothers. It's very real to me. When the comments came in, they expressed horror of what we are going through. Then I felt my own horror and flush of embarrassment. I was not looking for pity.
We have the blessing of seeing incredible people doing incredible things. It's a very different view of those around us than we had just 4 years ago. There are such wonderful people on this earth right now. There's plenty of evil. But there's plenty of light too.
So it appears from the outside, that it's just all stress and exhaustion and heartache.
But with those extreme lows, there are also the intense warmth and joys and appreciation for things we might take for granted otherwise.
If he only knew.
Then on the other end of the spectrum... I'd posted a video about a child with epilepsy very similar to LGS on my FB page. I honestly didn't think anyone would even comment on it. It was very difficult for me to watch, but I'm emotional because I've actually seen those things happen to Aidan and his brothers. It's very real to me. When the comments came in, they expressed horror of what we are going through. Then I felt my own horror and flush of embarrassment. I was not looking for pity.
We have the blessing of seeing incredible people doing incredible things. It's a very different view of those around us than we had just 4 years ago. There are such wonderful people on this earth right now. There's plenty of evil. But there's plenty of light too.
So it appears from the outside, that it's just all stress and exhaustion and heartache.
But with those extreme lows, there are also the intense warmth and joys and appreciation for things we might take for granted otherwise.
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