Dear Addie,
A storm.
By definition, it’s a violent disturbance of the atmosphere causing a reaction. It’s often predicted by experts but it carries its own unpredictability of severity as every storm is different even when it shares a generalized name. It’s something we find hope in that we’ve done our best to prepare for our safety. It’s something unavoidable by nature and usually leaves an overwhelming sense of much-needed calm in its wake of destruction. The duration of its stay is often open-ended, but when they leave, we pick up our pieces no matter how tired and move on with life, building ourselves back up no matter the measurement of damage or new foundation we are on because we are resilient and doing nothing at all would leave us vulnerable to what storm could be coming on the horizon.
Our storm has passed.
Here we were the day before Christmas, just two days before your birthday, exhausted, but grateful for the calm of the aftermath. I, myself, felt as though we were living in a state of confusion as to what day and time it actually was because so much of this journey is not measured in traditional time but in mood changes, sensory assaults, schedules, and environmental disturbances. It’s almost an unavoidable depressive state that comes in and out of special needs parenting when storms hit. This calm we were left with isn’t free of stress either, it’s washed away paths we thought we were traveling, ones we'd grown comfortable with, and washed-up ocean life and remanence on our beach where we are now tiptoeing around sharp seashells and bits of coral, avoiding Portuguese Manowar.
We tiptoed.
Christmas day came and it was full of all its magic & wonder - for our standards at least, we didn’t force you to come down with us, but set all your gifts aside rather for when you were ready to celebrate. Sure, it would be great to have us all together in a traditional sense, but you see Addie we know having lived this journey for a while now that some years are better than others, and holidays & autism more times than not don’t usually pair well together. It's just too overwhelming. They are less like a cheese and wine pairing and more like a tuna fish and champagne combo – both delicious (in my opinion) but don’t necessarily sound great together with too many opposing flavors going on, although some may say differently…but I digress.
The good news is you did eventually come down and each gift was opened very methodically as you inspected & played with each piece, in each gift…quite literally. The 12-pack of playdoh – oye, that took a hot minute baby girl, but I’m glad you seemed to enjoy it – flashing a smile that was well deserved from the week you had just endured.
Your birthday the next day was much of the same. We took our cues from you while tiptoeing through it all. With you still exhausted from the storm, you spent your 12th birthday only coming down for homemade mac n cheese before settling in for a nap. Not gonna lie, that to me sounds like a magical birthday – you might very well be on to something Ad. Just saying.
This week, we sat in the calm aftermath of a pretty epic storm. We pulled ourselves together and cautiously walked through events traditionally filled with festive pomp and circumstance. Time somehow stood still and seemed to dissolve simultaneously in our exhaustion. As we find energy again, we will continue to tiptoe for a while before eventually becoming comfortable enough to know where to step on this new terrain. We will take notes, educating ourselves with what we’ve learned through this most recent disturbance in your atmosphere, as to better prepare us for the next.
This life will never be without storms but just know we will never stop finding ways to build a better inner shelter as we ride them out together.
Here’s to 12.
Love,
Mom
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