By Cathy Jameson

I had an incredibly busy week and had no time to write a new post.  Today’s story comes from an old journal entry of mine.  It’s been edited a tad for our AofA readers today:

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February 4^th - This Blows

...While I try to be upbeat and hopeful, there are days I just can't keep smiling.  Ronan looks so normal at first glance.  Strangers are caught off guard when he does something unusual or has a meltdown.  Those encounters can be painful, so I either try to explain things or quickly move away from watchful eyes.

On those bad days, I sometimes just want to blow off my responsibilities.  I would never do that.  I have five kids, and they all need me in some special way.  Ronan is my most needy most days and always gets my full attention.  His complicated medical issues and cognitive delays have us constantly on the go to get him to his therapies and appointments.  My life includes weeks that are tornado-like and should have high alert statuses to warn others what to expect...

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That old memory crossed my path today.  I’d appropriately titled the entry This Blows.  Written during what looks like was an awful week over 10 years ago, I recently had a similar week full of struggles and emotions.  Before things smoothed out, I told myself the same thing I’d said a decade ago:  Things really stink.  But you'll pick yourself back up again, Cat.  You’ll see.  I expected it to be a good week, but the week I wrote that was THE PITS.  Each day, my well-thought out plans were completely destroyed.  Then Ronan had dozens of seizures.  The night those came on was the worst, and the following day was no better.  Walking around with more worry than with happiness, I asked myself how do I keep smiling when there's nothing to smile about.  

...while most of Ronan's days are full of struggle just to do the simple things - like getting in his chair without falling over, or scooping his food without it spilling out of the spoon - Ronan is victorious.  Each day he faces more challenges than I will ever know.  Each day he teaches me to learn more and to do better, too.  I may want to blow things off some days, but that little hero wrapped up in a kid’s body pushes me along.  That’s when I try to remember ‘this too shall pass’.  He didn’t chose the medical and behavioral issues he suffers.  But together, we can try to work through them. 

As usual, things settled down after I’d written that old memory: