JUST A MOM
by CAT
I had the wonderful opportunity of meeting my friend over the weekend. A fellow warrior in a battle against RAD we had so much in common. Talking long into the night, we shared many fears and hopes for our children. I shared a secret with this friend; one that had me squirming in embarrassment and left me feeling like a fraud. Our school system, the same one who thought I was a dysfunctional uncaring mother just a year ago, called me their hero in front of a room full of people a few weeks ago. My friend understood, as she had been called a hero herself, and we talked quite a while about this label.
I used to want people to think I was perfect. The perfect wife, mother, employee, or whatever. I wanted to be superwoman. Ruthlessly I pushed myself to do more, do it faster and better, judging myself harshly when my efforts produced less than perfection. About the time I felt I had fooled the world, the good Lord blessed me with a child who would test the strength and endurance of Hercules.
I thought I was able to stop speeding bullets, but could not catch my RADish when he ran down the road in the middle of a snowstorm. Spraining my ankle after hopping over broken furniture quickly dispelled the jumping over a building in a single bound myth. Certainly my x-ray vision failed me time and time again while my son pulled the wool over my eyes. Standing in the rubble of what once was my perfect life I had a revelation. I was just a human blessed with countless imperfections. I cannot control my human imperfections. I can choose whether to laugh or cry, to be angry or happy, when to be a victim to RAD, or when to choose to fight and try to conquer RAD. The choice and my outlook each day depends on me and my response to each situation. I could make mistakes, forgive myself and move forward. There was no longer a reason for me to beat myself up for months for even the smallest errors.
There is nothing more refreshing than a "real" person. Who do I turn to when I need advice? Not a professional who has faced none of the trials I am living with, but another mother flawed like me, who has lived through the same Hell that I have. How easy it is to share and laugh with someone who struggles just like me, who listens, and has empathy. Do they have all the answers? NO, but they can understand and relate to what I am going through.
Parenting a RAD child made me "real". Before living with my son I walked through life very disconnected. I saw and read about other's misfortunes, donated money, attended church, but never really gave any of myself to anyone. I did not stop to help. I felt anger at injustices, but never did anything to make changes. I never reached out to help anyone. My world was safe, but isolated.
I was so angry that I could not find help when my son was diagnosed with RAD. I reached out for help but ended up empty handed. It took so very long for someone to hear my cries for help. I honestly believe that part of God's plan for me was to learn to be both sympathetic, and to reach out to others.
How personally rewarding it has been for me to, in some small way reach out to others who are dealing with RAD. Encouraging, laughing, and crying with them, my life has been enriched by each and every person I have talked to. I do not have to have all the answers, or offer them any kind of solutions. I can tell them what worked for me and try to help them find something to laugh about, despite their current situations. I am no longer isolated. I have somehow connected with so many awesome people, and have been blessed by the most wonderful new friends.
I am not a hero, or superwoman, nor do I want to be. I am just a Mom. So what if I use the smoke alarm as an oven timer. I do the best I can, always hopelessly flawed and wonderfully human. I find joy in each day, with my children, my husband, and my friends. I thank God daily for this child who changed me so much.
Perfection is an illusion, manifested by our own ideas of whom we think we should be. It's cold, and sterile, with no room for spontaneity or lazy Sunday mornings. You roll through life each day much like a game of marbles, crashing and ricocheting off of each other. Your shell so hard that you cannot feel the contact. Reality is much warmer. Flawed and filled with unexpected moments of pure joy and pain. I think we are designed to be more like grapes. Soft and yielding... thriving in groups.
There is no perfection in my life for which I thank God. It's just me... so proud to be Ricky's Mom.
