How Special Needs Kids Teach Us We ALL Count
“ANATOMY of a MELTDOWN”
(A BLUE BlogBOX Entry about the Presenting Problem)
I know he's not feeling well, but still, we were having a great night. We played with wheat flour in the kitchen and his bath was a joy.
And then I went into the bedroom to fold some laundry ...
And because I'm teaching him to pour his own milk ...
He tried it on his own.
All by himself.
No supervision.
He got the gallon out of the fridge.
Opened it.
Poured it.
No spilling.
He even screwed the top of the sippy cup on!
And he it did so well. Better than he'd ever done before.
But I didn't know he was doing it until …
I heard the scream in the kitchen.
He couldn't find the little rubber stopper that controls the flow of the milk.
Or he forgot about it.
So he screwed the top on without it.
And a little milk spilled on his pajamas.
Then, in shock and frustration he shook the cup.
And the top, which wasn't on tight enough came off.
Milk all over him
Milk all over the kitchen.
Milk all over his teddy bear.
I saw it just in time to shout a warning,
"Don't shake it, Buddy!"
Too loudly, I'm afraid.
Between the cold, wet milk and my loud voice
Well, it was just too much.
What followed was a 20 minute meltdown as he struggled vainly to restore equilibrium.
And my heart just breaks ...
and races at the same time.
One moment he wants to hit me. The next he wants a kiss.
He wants me to hold him and rub his arms and legs for comfort.
But he doesn't want me to touch him.
Climbing on my shoulders helps him calm down.
But it can’t work if he's going to kick me while he's up there.
He breathes and counts and looks calmer.
And then he lets out a blood-curdling scream.
So hard he’s trying!!
He's trying so hard to regain control.
I can see the anguish in his eyes as he seems to plead with me to find a way to end his agony.
A door slams once.
So loud!!
Every time he starts to wind down he pleads for his teddy bear.
The soft fur is usually a soothing sensation.
But when it is soaked with milk from the belly button down...
Well, cold, wet fur is NOT the feeling he is seeking.
His plaintive cries only wind up again into a louder crescendo.
Eventually. Peace is restored.
I never know if it is his efforts to calm himself. Or just exhaustion.
But eventually, the storm subsides.
Like now.
It seems to be over now.
The kitchen is cleaned up.
The teddy bear is in the washer.
He is quietly sitting beside me on the couch stacking color sticks in one hand and watching a video on his tablet.
There is a small smile on his face.
He seems okay.
But my heart is still racing.
And the living room is a mess.
Do I dare tell him to help me pick up?
He made the mess.
And cleaning up is a natural and logical consequence.
But it could also spark a new meltdown.
We are so lucky.
This only happens 20-30 minutes a week at most now.
Often less than that in a month.
Usually when he isn't well.
It wasn’t always this easy.
Although I can’t really remember how we coped when it wasn’t.
It wasn't daily, back then.
But it certainly seemed like it.
And it didn't last for more than two or three hours.
But it certainly seemed like it.
He works so hard now to get back on the same page with us.
And we work hard too.
Still I can't help wondering, as my blood pressure returns to relatively normal levels
Will this get better as he gets older?
Or worse?
But that's a question that tends to raise the anxiety.
Not lower it.
And it’s a question nobody can answer.
Until tomorrow comes.
Today, in this moment, all I can say ...
Is ...
"1. We admitted that we were powerless over the Gray Spectrum
and that our lives had become unmanageable.
1. We came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves
could restore us to sanity.
2. NOW is yet another moment to make a conscious decision to turn our will
and our lives over to our gracious God
as we understand God."
Now I don’t know how faith factors into your life.
But as much as I rely upon a power greater than me in moments when I feel powerless ...
What really helps us through our travels and travails with the Gray Spectrum
Is that we are NOT Anonymous.
We are known and we are not alone.
We make this journey rather publicly.
Even proudly.
With you.
When the burden feels a bit too heavy, like tonight,
I write this Blog and I know others are reading.
We know that there are so many of you ... out there ... thinking about us.
Sending your support through the ethereal clouds and the digital clouds.
Hoping that we find peace.
Even praying for us.
Loving him.
You may never know what a difference that makes.
That people who have never met him still love him.
Because they read my words. And understand.
And even respond.
You may never know what a difference that makes.
But I think you do.
You do, kind of know it too, don’t you?
How a burden sometimes becomes a blessing.
When we share it.
It’s happened to you too, hasn’t it?
When the burden is shared.
The burden never feels quite as heavy.
In fact.
When the burden is shared.
Sometimes.
I think through the grace of a higher power.
The burden. The pain. The struggle.
Becomes.
Lighter.
So light sometimes.
A little joy.
Leaks through too.
Thanks be to God.
But.
Thank you too!!
Somehow. In the toughest times.
Those two very different statements.
Seem so very similar too.