By Cathy Jameson
As I watched my post last week being shared by other parents of affected children I could see that it evoked emotions similar to those that inspired me to write it. I had wanted to share the Forgive and Forget? thoughts for a very long time, but I hadn’t found the right time to do that. Last week, several unfortunate triggers brought out the deep, dark writing of that piece.
It wasn’t the first time I experienced the overwhelming rage those triggers evoked, and sadly it might not be the last time. I say that because I have had to turn to several people to aid me with my child. He has many limitations that I cannot serve as well as others say they can. Sometimes I have nowhere else to turn but other to people. But, when I place my child in the hands of someone else fully trusting their every intention to be good and then discover that my child was knowingly placed in harm’s way deep, dark anger has every right to step in. Not only does it step in. It takes over. It occupies every thought. And every purpose and action I am forced to make.
Detrimental emotions consume me when triggers open up old wounds. Sometimes I can work through the immediate and necessary changes that must be made, but not without some scarring. Those past ‘didn’t have to happen’ moments, as much I don’t want to dwell on them, are forefront again. So is something else: righteous indignation and all of its fury. It’s right there in front of me, constant and it comes down hard.
Righteous indignation is nothing to mess with. Parents whose children have been vaccine injured know this well. With seething eyes we set our gaze. We focus on one direction—forward. We blaze a path that will not divert. We stay determined and do not allow for distraction. Why? Because injustice is rampant. Lies are prolific. Propaganda is widespread. And, more children continue to be harmed in the name of ‘science’ and for a ‘greater good’.
How is any of that okay? When is this going to end? Why does anyone think they’ll get away with it? Who does this lying and deceiving thinking no one will notice?!
I’ll tell you who. It’s people who don’t care. People who don’t listen. People who won’t budge even though they know they should.
Why is this important to someone like me or to other parents with children similar to mine? Righteous indignation makes us stronger. It knows no limits. Righteous indignation fuels what has broken us. We can go no lower emotionally than we’ve already gone. We’ve fallen, no—been pushed into the depths of despair by someone whose role was to help. Not much can make up for that.
Nothing will make me or a host of other parents forget the past and what happened. Nothing will justify that it was okay for Ronan and thousands of others to be harmed as they were. Nothing will prevent us parents from telling the worlds what we now know. Nothing will keep us from helping someone else avoid the pain, broken promises and hardship we and our children have experienced.
For many, we have lost everything already. We have used up every positive thought, feeling and action. We trusted more than we should have. We respected until we were forced to see insolence staring directly at us while ignoring everything we say. We tried everything before people turned against us. Honestly, we tried! We tried to trust. We tried to believe. We even tried to think about forgiving. But, when our children are looked as experiments, collateral or dollar signs for someone else’s gain I believe parents are allowed to feel every range of emotion which includes searing, painful and unwavering anger.
We and our children have lost basic rights. We have lost abilities that used to come so easy to us. We have lost the ability to trust. We have lost faith. We have become doubters, and we now judge. We judge their wrongs against our rights. We judge how much was too much, or not enough, and how we should have recognized it all long before we did. We are filled with more than just righteous indignation but every desire to right wrongs that have become all consuming.
So many emotions pour forth when righteous indignation emerges. But so does more purpose. A purpose to do more, to be more and to say more. We will not let our children be used. We will not be stepped on any longer. We will insist that changes be made. In fact, we will demand that not only for our child but for others who don’t know yet that they are in jeopardy. We will also never be afraid to stand up for someone else ever again.
It isn’t very often that anger, remorse and retribution crash into me, but when they show up, oh boy do they come with a vengeance. Those triggers bring me to a dark and gloomy state where I have to clamor to push through those present emotions that I didn’t invite in. But with those emotions, and especially with the anger that invigorates me, I am determined once again to get Ronan everything he needs to be safe.
When old wounds are reopened and when I am reminded that life is much different than I expected for my son, I know I’m offered a choice in how to react—give in, or fight like hell. For Ronan, I will always choose the latter.
Cathy Jameson is a Contributing Editor for Age of Autism.