Dear Addie,
And just like that, the house we called home is no longer ours. What was once a fleeting thought of moving, has come to fruition. It seemed like a long process, yet came to us at lightning speed. I tried to emotionally detach from the process telling myself - it was just a house. My focus was always on all of you kids, making sure you were mentally and emotionally prepared for this next chapter, but there I stood far too late at night looking at a house that was everything a home should be. It was everything I didn’t know I’d find until having started this journey, and in the past 7 years, I finally realized the depth in which I relied on this space we called home.
You see Addie, I talk a lot about the “exposure is key” advice so many like us are given when handed this ticket on such a wildly unknown journey. While exposure can mean a flurry of different things it’s often related to going out into public and trying to conform to what “normal” is considered or what “acceptable” looks like. To say it’s exhausting is an understatement beyond measure. Every time we leave our home it’s a guessing game of how everything will go. Did I bring enough clothes, snacks, headphones, XYZ… there’s a laundry list of things to remember, things that said “normal” society doesn’t even think to take when leaving the house, things we need to assist us in adapting to a world not designed for you. Before leaving, I always take a deep breath just hoping everything would go right or whatever right looks like anyway.
At the end of every outing, as soon as I walk in the door I can breathe. There’s a rush of relief that flows over me. There’s no judgment here. It’s a safe place to just be who we are, our perfectly imperfect selves. People literally surprise me every day for the good and bad Addie. Most lead with kindness and compassion, but then there are those that do not, and when we are trying our very best at this exposure game and get the latter in response it wrecks me.
In the past 7 years, you went from preschool to knocking on the door of middle school. So much growth has happened. Many parents of autistic children will tell you that the older our kids get the more intense the reactions of others are. Some days I’m good and can handle it, but other days I just so desperately want to blend into the background. My mama guilt hits hard on those days. You see Addie, people often think we are something more. Special needs parents are not superheroes – we are ordinary parents given extraordinary circumstances and every day we are exhaustingly doing our best – usually on full display. There’s no rulebook or if there is I haven’t found it yet. Being in a sea of neurotypical families can be emotionally and mentally draining on all of us.
This home was my breath at the end of each day. Sometimes it was a breath of “we did it!” and sometimes it was a “we’ll try again another day” or heck if I’m being honest sometimes it was an “I’m so glad that $h!tshow is over!” Whatever it was… we exhaled. This home never slept. We have spent our fair share of nights pacing the hallway or laying in bed listening to the creaking of our platform swing at 3am…back and forth, back and forth.
This home was sometimes my window of envy watching others seemingly enjoying life effortlessly walking to the pool or playground. This home was our joy of learning and growing up together - One Team, One Dream. This home was where you learned to give hugs, put on your own socks and use a fork. This home was your decompression at the end of every day, your happy place, your comfort. This home was consistent in its support of allowing us to be who we were.
This home was ours for 7 years and in it, we never gave up, we always supported one another, our family loved & laughed, we held deep conversations, and truly enjoyed the breath it gave us when we needed it.
This home was so much more than I ever could’ve imagined I needed in my life.
This home is no longer ours, it treated us well, and I know it will give so much to its next family.
There I stood far too late at night, feeling all the feels.
Here’s to the next chapter Ad.
Love you,
Mom
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