Cleveland has a wonderful theater district, and we went to see Mary Poppins yesterday. The show was great. Riley and Seth were mesmerized. Three years ago Riley could not handle a middle school production of The Pirates of Penzance. Today she was fine with the special effects. The loud applause. I was positively giddy with how far we'd come. The play was fantastic. The crowd gave a standing ovation (for a matinee)!
The theaters are quite ancient here, and the exit plans are not the best. Traffic becomes very congested in the huge lobby as people file out. I've found this out myself on several occasions, so thought it best if we remained in our seats until the place cleared out a bit. I wanted to save Riley the jostling and sensory overwhelm of the masses.
She went nuts.
She assumed all of the people leaving were pointing at her, making big imaginary L's on their foreheads, knowing she has Asperger's, knowing she can't handle crowds, thinking she's "a baby." At this point the crowd was thick, the lobby would be sardines by now, and she was already upset. We continued to sit. We tried to talk her through it, but she just wailed louder and louder. Seth sat in his seat, nonchalant. Todd and I kept speaking softly to her, reassuring her, and then, I lost it.
The plummet from so high, to so low was too much for me. 999 times out of 1000 I can handle whatever she throws my way, but not this day. I was done.
"Riley. We have had such a good day. No one knows or cares why we are sitting here. If you are embarrassed, you are the only one drawing attention to yourself." I felt my blood start to boil. I was so sick of this. "This is such a stupid thing to be upset about," I snarled through gritted teeth.
Instantly, I hated myself for chastising her. Who is to say what is valid to be worried or upset about? I do not live in her body. I'd throttle someone else if they said that to her. And then I just stopped talking and felt my throat tighten. I willed myself to knock it off and get it together, but I felt the tears welling up. All the old familiar, I hate my life, I hate this, I'm so sick of this, why, why, why can't we ever just have fun feelings came bubbling up to the surface. Biting my lip, I tried my best to hide my face from the kids. I dabbed at my eyes quick with a greasy napkin Seth had used for his pretzel.
Todd looked at me confused. I routinely diffuse much tougher Riley moments, with one hand tied behind my back. His concerned expression begged the question, "Tears? For this?"
Finally we got going.
In the lobby it was still packed and Riley, a bit calmer now, reflexively reached for my hand. I honestly didn't feel like taking hers. Todd and Seth were in front of us. I wished we could trade kids but it would be too obvious. As we slowly made our way through the people she looked up at me, and asked,
"Are you okay?"
Looking straight forward, I nodded.
We walked a hundred more paces through the crowd and she asked,
"Are you sure you're okay? You look sad," she said sheepishly.
I nodded again, not willing to talk about it right then in the throng of people. Later, I would marvel that she noticed my emotion, showed concern, and asked about it twice! She never considers the effect her meltdowns might have on anyone else. At the moment however, I just felt mad. I held tight to her hand. I'd save her from the crushing mob if need be, but I didn't have to look at her.
And you know? Eight hours later I can see it more clearly. I thought we'd come so far, and then her meltdown at the theater felt like it was all a joke. Maybe she really hasn't come very far at all? Maybe I haven't either.
But now I see it for what it was. A mom getting angry at her kid. Like most moms are allowed to.
You do know parents of kids on the spectrum don't feel allowed to get angry at their kids,right? Because their kids can't help it? Plus, there is so much residual guilt from the times I lost my temper before I knew what was going on with her when she was a toddler.
Maybe I can let myself get mad at her because she now does have the capacity to understand she has an effect on others. She does have some control.
My intentions in deciding to stay in our seats were only to help her. I'm not proud of what I said to Riley, but maybe, just maybe, it doesn't have to mean we're not making progress.
Or maybe I'm just full of crap.
Mary Poppins, you might be "Practically Perfect," but I'm not.
12 comments:
Even though you spoke with anger, you were speaking a truthful lesson she maybe can hear at some point, not something hateful. Wish I had more words of wisdom for you!
Humans, not heroes.
love.
my therapist has banged me over the head on this one quite a bit... This assumption that we cannot be really mad at our kid - resent them, even hate them from time to time (and I hate even writing that, which tells me I need to work on it more), all those completely normal feelings - just because they are special needs. It's so important - it's part of that batch of messiness that we try very hard not to let bubble to the surface.
We have enough to deal with without refusing to give ourselves permission to feel what we feel. To do so is freedom in a great sense.
You're awesome for bringing this difficult stuff up. XO R
OMG, Michelle, if I had a nickel.
Seriously. And you make a real point about those of us with special needs kids not allowing us the same range of emotions as "other" mothers.
For the record, moments like this send me over the edge. We'll have a really great time, overcome some huge hurdle, and then Miss M's unique needs kick in. It's the extreme high/low thing.
I always figure that I need to express myself as honestly as I can, so that Miss M gets the full spectrum of human experience.
Note that Riley noticed that you are human, she noticed your emotion, that there is a cause-and-effect.
She needs to see the vulnerable mama as well as the cool, collected one.
And I tell you...she loves both.
P.S. Did the kids LOVE when she flew over the audience at the end?
Everyone O'N response seems practically perfect in this story...to me.
You're one of my heroes.
xo
Ah, but you are perfect, Michelle. Perfectly human! Isn't it twisted, all the guilt we saddle ourselves with for having and expressing NORMAL emotions with out children? I do hope that, after the dust settled, you were able to talk with Riley about how you felt. Hugs.
Something about Mary Poppins..?
They were never HER kids. She could always just decide to quit and fly away.
Fuck Mary Poppins. ;)
You are allowed to feel your feelings. You HAVE made progress. She CAN deal a little more with how her melt downs make others feel...And she DID notice! She DID care! :)
You are loved.
:)
Michelle, you are an awesome Mom to two wonderful kids.
From what I've read on your blog, which, btw, is amazing, you have all come along way.
I too have btdt. When I have a "Mumma Meltdown" I too reflect and take stock after the fact. And then eventually I will discuss/apologize to my spectacular daughter for what transpired. This shows her that I am human, that sometimes I get tired and...cranky.
You are an amazing woman! It seems like it was quite a journey to get a diagnosis for Riley. I am so glad you were able to get the diagnosis while she was so young.
We were not so lucky in our journey with our youngest daughter. My husband and I are not strangers to the guilt and misgivings of our actions before our daughter was diagnosed. We are parents that are always involved, asking questions, raising concerns. We did this from kindergarten and into junior high. Our concerns were always dismissed. Finally we found someone that said yes, there are issues and there needs to be assessments, etc. From then on, all we could do is move forward, armed with our new knowledge and advocate for our daughter and her needs. All this time later, we have discovered that teachers knew there were issues but did nothing about it. Even tho we asked, many times. In speaking with the medical community, we found that is quite common in our educational system. Teachers do not want to get involved or take the time and effort to do the paperwork to get these assessments done. It means a ton of extra work for them. Hmmmm...how sad is that?!?
So, I urge you not to beat yourself up when you have these rare moments. You are doing a fabulous job of raising spectacular children. And, you are not alone.
ps...I am Mary, Chloe's Mom. She urged me to read todays post and sugested that it might be a good idea to post. I am so proud of Chloe. She has become a caring young woman and sees so much of herself in Riley. Her goal is to become an advocate for those in the Autism Spectrum.
So it sounds like today, Riley got to see that she is not the only one who has melt downs. How comforting. You also kindly modeled regaining control, owning your feelings, and discussing/ apologizing for your hurtful actions appropriately. Special needs or not, sometimes all honest parents have those grrr moments, no matter how mindful.
Just another day full of learning and love for you both.
-e-
we were listening to a children's song in the car yesterday .. the refrain went 'when i feel all my feelings, then i am free.'
love
You show yourself so bravely to us and to your children.
Allowing yourself to be not perfect gives them the same permission.
All the same, my first thought was, "She understood! Riley knew Michelle was upset!!!!" I'm sorry these were such tough moments for you, but Riley got it.
Progress is measured in strange ways sometimes.
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