If I had a dollar for every time I said “I can’t…” I would be a rich lady. I would say I can’t so often that I began to believe it. People told me not to say that out loud. Like that really made a difference.
Instead of saying it out loud. I would think it. The feelings of not being able to do enough for my family hurt me.
I can’t work and be a good mom. I can’t advocate for Sydney and still work in the same school district. I can’t survive without my husband. I can’t learn about autism and epilepsy. I can’t leave my house.
I find myself telling people lately. “Sorry, I just can’t.”
When you see me. I make it look easy and flawless. Well that’s far from the truth. You are seeing me after I have cried, stayed awake all night worrying about the future and cried out to God.
I’ve accepted these facts. I can’t run so I’ll walk. I can’t be a stay at home mom. So, I’ll put my children first.
I wish there was a manual I could follow raising a child with autism. But there’s not a manual or a one size fits all guide to follow.
Just when I think I’ve fought the hardest battle. I’m faced with another stumbling block. It’s in that moment the past doesn’t seem so bad at all.