I awoke this morning, dreading today, clearly not feeling or keeping the true Spirit of Christmas in mind.
Yesterday I spent the entire day trying to keep my RADish Miles safe and regulated. Well, let me rephrase. I spent the entire day trying to keep everyone in the house safe from Miles. I worked as best as I could with Miles, but for the majority of the day, he was shut down, angry and feeling the need to be in control of every moment of the day.
For a week now, he has been terrorizing Keenan. Not in a physical sense until yesterday, but for days on end he has been whispering, threatening, and lying constantly to me to try and get Keenan in trouble. It came to a head yesterday when, after I had left the boys alone for 2 minutes, Keenan was trying to physically leave his bedroom, and Miles was doing his darndest to physically prevent Keenan from doing so.
That's all bullying, and while RAD creates an entire different backdrop to the situation, I have a Zero Tolerance policy for it in my home.
In addition to the bullying problem, several other "Oh My Lord, I can't believe I didn't see that one in the making" issues came to the forefront, and I went to bed exhausted, reeling at the thought of changes we need to make in the New Year (more on this later, but we're having major school teacher/attachment/anger issues going on.)
My mood wasn't any better upon waking, and having signed on to FaceBook this morning, my dread turned to eye rolling and disgust after reading all of the Pollyanna Look-at-the-Bible-Quote I can pull up to proclaim and celebrate the season Statuses.
Ugly thought, and I'm admittedly ashamed, but it's true. "How can I possibly be happy and celebrate when I'm trying to keep one of my children from going completely bat-sh*t crazy on the others? Where the h*ll did MY normal go?!?"
When I see how the holidays bring my own parenting-trauma trauma issues to a peak, then surely I should see how much it can do on a little body and brain.
I sat there, fuming, looking at those quotes.
Suddenly, it hit me, and I felt my shut-down heart open in a flood of tears.
My son was born Perfect and Precious according to His plan.
My son IS Perfect and Precious, trauma or no trauma, to Him.
Jesus came to bring love and peace to the broken.
My son is broken.
My job is to help Miles become as much as he can be. To fulfill as much of the potential that the Lord gave him. To assist my boy on his own journey.
A journey which is SO tough.
A journey which is SO unfair because he is little. He is 6. No 6 year old should be as broken as my boy is.
My son is a 6 year old who cannot find the elation and joy in Santa. In Christmas.
That breaks my heart.
A huge wave of grief and shame hit me. This parenting journey is so hard. But what's even harder is Miles' own journey.
This morning, a sense of humility has washed over me. Christ came to serve those less than. He came to take on MY sins. My sins of impatience and judgment and self-pity.
Then I realized what today is about, and how I should celebrate. I should celebrate by serving my broken son. With a servant heart. I need to lay aside my own wonky for today. To help my son celebrate the season with as much peace and dignity as possible. To not put judgment or expectations on his little broken self, because all of this hoopla is SO much for him. And that is not his fault.
A spirit of peace has washed over me. This is my journey today, for this Christmas season. It is my normal. And that's okay.
For all of the RAD Moms and Trauma Moms out there, I am sending you a Huge Hug today. And for your children, I am wishing for them to feel the love and peace that washes over oneself when they realize that they are Perfect and Precious in God's heart. I know that wish is a long shot, and maybe they won't feel it today, but I wish it for them and you and all of these families parenting trauma.
Merry Christmas, my friends.