p34. Beth – it’s not always about you!
Please remember you are reading the most current post, the first in the random succession of this blog is listed on the right, Sept. 13th.
Often, well more than often I hear this statement – “Beth, geeze (better yet, insert expletive here) - it’s not always about you”, and honestly I am perplexed – perhaps it is because others see something in me that I don’t, something bad and irritating. Maybe it’s because of all the things I have been through as a mother of a special needs child, I tend to relate my experiences more, especially with more forceful authority, I also feel responsible – which my doctor describes as not having boundaries. No boundaries translates into one simple concept, everything becomes your fault.
Boundaries for moms of these special kids are not the idyllic picket fences that contain fluffy little dogs and happy little children – this is your neighbor’s house (possibly). Boundaries for moms like myself, is when the dog is sick – it’s because of something you’ve done – if the paint chips on the fence it because of the way you treated the yard, etc. Unfortunately it is not this simple.
I am not sure if all mothers of bipolar kids might experience this, but with a lack of boundaries mixed with guilt and a huge dash of over sensitivity you can have a very good recipe for someone that comes across as sounding like it’s always about them. But is it?
Have you ever checked out at the food market and found the cashier to be a bit snippy or sad? Have you ever felt it is your fault? Have you ever looked at someone who is a complete stranger and just knew they need your empathy and hugs because something just didn’t seem right? This all happens to me often.
Unfortunately it feels even worse when people judge this as a fault when they have no idea what’s behind the emotion. Sometimes mask are developed and when you are in a room of people that are either uncomfortable or overall not your cup of tea, you change colors as the chameleon I discussed earlier.
I had a mother come to my window at work and she was on her way to pick up her daughter from physical therapy. When she told me how far she had to drive, I asked if it would be intrusive for me to inquire why she goes so far away when we had a number of good facilities locally. She then proceeded to have tears rolling down her face as she described the tragic accident of her daughter becoming a quadriplegic through a diving accident.
After handholding and both of us crying, I asked how she was and what she was doing to help herself? When I came home and told my husband about it and how I also felt bad for this mother having to drive so far twice a day, daily - his response was just like the one above, “it’s not about the mother, it’s about the daughter”. I listened to what he said carefully. But I guess I am guilty as charged.
The daughter is utmost number one, but the mother – she has to been taken care of too, we have to think of her sacrifices too. I think she needs some “it’s about me, and be able to feel that’s OK without the judgment of others. She has a hard job now and ahead, and she loves the reason why more than anyone.
Her boundaries are now going to be miles and miles, I hope she doesn’t get so far away, but I do hope she stays close to herself, even though she will not be as close as the holding, rocking and hugging of her daughter. I think moms of special kids could use some “moming” themselves.
Sorry to be selfish, but hell yeah – it is about me sometimes, forgive me for being concerned and wanting to relate. Maybe this just isn’t the right way as I have said repeatedly…
But you know what, it’s all I have to give right now.
Oh to let you know I am thinking about Da, she was asked to get her ASCAP number for radio, but she is falling into a sever depression. Pray for her, I don’t need them right now... I’m just scared.
Often, well more than often I hear this statement – “Beth, geeze (better yet, insert expletive here) - it’s not always about you”, and honestly I am perplexed – perhaps it is because others see something in me that I don’t, something bad and irritating. Maybe it’s because of all the things I have been through as a mother of a special needs child, I tend to relate my experiences more, especially with more forceful authority, I also feel responsible – which my doctor describes as not having boundaries. No boundaries translates into one simple concept, everything becomes your fault.
Boundaries for moms of these special kids are not the idyllic picket fences that contain fluffy little dogs and happy little children – this is your neighbor’s house (possibly). Boundaries for moms like myself, is when the dog is sick – it’s because of something you’ve done – if the paint chips on the fence it because of the way you treated the yard, etc. Unfortunately it is not this simple.
I am not sure if all mothers of bipolar kids might experience this, but with a lack of boundaries mixed with guilt and a huge dash of over sensitivity you can have a very good recipe for someone that comes across as sounding like it’s always about them. But is it?
Have you ever checked out at the food market and found the cashier to be a bit snippy or sad? Have you ever felt it is your fault? Have you ever looked at someone who is a complete stranger and just knew they need your empathy and hugs because something just didn’t seem right? This all happens to me often.
Unfortunately it feels even worse when people judge this as a fault when they have no idea what’s behind the emotion. Sometimes mask are developed and when you are in a room of people that are either uncomfortable or overall not your cup of tea, you change colors as the chameleon I discussed earlier.
I had a mother come to my window at work and she was on her way to pick up her daughter from physical therapy. When she told me how far she had to drive, I asked if it would be intrusive for me to inquire why she goes so far away when we had a number of good facilities locally. She then proceeded to have tears rolling down her face as she described the tragic accident of her daughter becoming a quadriplegic through a diving accident.
After handholding and both of us crying, I asked how she was and what she was doing to help herself? When I came home and told my husband about it and how I also felt bad for this mother having to drive so far twice a day, daily - his response was just like the one above, “it’s not about the mother, it’s about the daughter”. I listened to what he said carefully. But I guess I am guilty as charged.
The daughter is utmost number one, but the mother – she has to been taken care of too, we have to think of her sacrifices too. I think she needs some “it’s about me, and be able to feel that’s OK without the judgment of others. She has a hard job now and ahead, and she loves the reason why more than anyone.
Her boundaries are now going to be miles and miles, I hope she doesn’t get so far away, but I do hope she stays close to herself, even though she will not be as close as the holding, rocking and hugging of her daughter. I think moms of special kids could use some “moming” themselves.
Sorry to be selfish, but hell yeah – it is about me sometimes, forgive me for being concerned and wanting to relate. Maybe this just isn’t the right way as I have said repeatedly…
But you know what, it’s all I have to give right now.
Oh to let you know I am thinking about Da, she was asked to get her ASCAP number for radio, but she is falling into a sever depression. Pray for her, I don’t need them right now... I’m just scared.
posted by ewschott at Thursday, September 06, 2007
5 comments
