I don’t know what happens. One week I’m writing every day, and then I come to a point where I don’t know what I want to say. I mean, I have plenty to say. But I don’t want to write a post that sounds like I’m super miserable and negative, because I’m not. At the same time, I don’t want to appear like I’m super happy and positive, because I’m not.
Then the weeks pass by and it’s tough to get back up on that horse.
I even had three weeks without my daughter. She was at sleepaway camp. Half the time I spent on a river boat in Europe.
Half I spent back home, working but just enjoying not having to wait for my daughter’s school bus, not having to rush out of work to get home for her or spend my night caring for her.
I could have written a dozen blog posts. I have no excuse. Actually I have plenty of excuses. A crazy job. A desire to catch up on my shows. Dinners with my husband. Oh, and preparing to go back to school (online) this fall to get my masters. Because I don’t have nearly enough chaos :).
I have spent a lot of the recent time thinking about my daughter and her future. And I have come to a scary conclusion:
I don’t know what she would do without me.
That conclusion, that kind of responsibility, is so overwhelming it makes my hands sweat and my breath irregular. When I think about it I get panic attacks.
It’s all on me. Her path. If I don’t do it, nobody else will, I know this for a fact. Others may care for her. Nobody can or will care for my daughter like I do. Believe me I wish this was not the case.
I was writing something else the other day, an appeal for donations to my daughter’s school, and to quote myself:
“We are still figuring out her future living situation and funding. My goal is to live to 150 so that I can always take care of her. But we all know that’s not going to happen.”
I want what everyone else has. I want to raise my children, see them live independently, get good jobs, find true love and make me a grandma. With Brielle, that will never happen.
As I re-read that paragraph above, my inclination is to delete it or rewrite it. I don’t. It is what it is.
I don’t mean to sound so negative. But planning for her future is so hard. Most parents see their kids become independent. Having to plan for a kid who cannot be independent sucks.
Brielle has given me more than I ever thought possible. She is my reason. She has taught me patience and compassion and true love. Some of my happiest moments are spent lying next to this 17 1/2 year old beauty as she tries to communicate with her sound and her eyes. When she relaxes in my arms, when she holds my hand, I discover the infinite amount of love for her in my heart.
Soon I begin the process of transition. I figure out where she will be happiest, what I can handle, how long to keep her home with me and when to start transitioning her for the inevitable. Because no matter how many vitamins I take, no matter how strong I am or how much money I earn, I won’t live forever.