"Knife Fights"

If you saw glimpses of me and my son this weekend being “zombies” in the living room, blowing bubbles on the back porch, and enjoying soup together and having special movie time you wouldn’t believe the fights we’ve had this weekend as well. He is ABSOLUTELY my best friend, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t my mortal enemy 27 minutes before. And I know, I know, I shouldn’t call him my enemy. Trust me, I don’t do it in front of him. But sometimes that’s what it really feels like. 

I am one of the lucky solo parents that has her family by her side. I have great support, especially from my mother and brother. I am SO eternally grateful for them. But still, even with all the support, I am still “Mom & Dad”. And I am still the ‘punching bag’. (Literally and metaphorically) And I’ve been told because I am my son's safe place that he feels comfortable enough to give me the worst of the worst. And boy, does he. 

I have been yelled at, hit, scratched, bit, and much more. And everytime my blood BOILS. I have to pull myself out of my ‘lizard brain’ and back to my conscious brain to be the adult. And most of the time I can. I do snap occasionally though (I’m human and can only take so much). -When I’m not “lizard Megan” I try to react fairly and accordingly. Most of the time I correct behaviors by confiscating toys and doing time outs in his room, with talks and hugs after. I am NOT opposed to the occasional spank if the behavior is bad enough. And I hate to deny autonomy, but if behaviors get violent I will ‘bear hug’ to keep everyone safe, including him.

I’ve been doing some reading up on sensory overload and ASD. As his half brother is on the spectrum. And he has been suspected to be on the spectrum by some of his health care team, but not officially diagnosed yet. As his mother witnessing his routine, mannerisms, and behaviors I full heartedly believe he’s on the spectrum. Which I have no issue with. Everyone has their own neurosynchronicities. But it does play a role in “Okay, is this an autism thing?” or “Is he purposely being defiant?”. It’s such a vague, and thin line sometimes, honestly.

No matter what it is just defeating somedays. Whether I’m supplying “tough love”, “soft love”, or anything in between it feels so useless at times. It seems like at times there is no amount of reading, therapy (for either of us), consoling in friends and family, or brainstorming I can do to make it work. This concoction of trauma, neurodiversity, and mental health struggles can make for a pretty big heartache. And no, I’m not isolated in this space. I’m sure there are many nuclear families that feel this sort of defeat sometimes. I’m just saying it hurts, it really fucking hurts. 

I actually had to walk away from our bedtime routine last night and collect myself while my family stepped in. We had many fights earlier in the day, it was just an extra hard day for some reason. And the fight over brushing teeth broke me. I loaded my washer with dirty clothes while my mother and brother talked to my seven-year-old. And next thing I know I’m collapsed over my washer letting out the most guttural cries I’ve cried in years. I don’t think I’ve wept the way I did last night since everything happened with my ex a couple years ago. Somewhere in time and space my weeping cries still live in the walls of that empty town house. And they found me again last night in the confines of my laundry room.

My family gathered around me and hugged me hard as tears and sounds escaped my body. My chest hurt, but my spirit felt better. I regrouped after about 5 minutes and we finished bedtime. And I actually had a really good night after that. -The point I’m getting at is that parenting is HARD. REALLY hard. It sometimes feels like a million little knife fights. And my child will always be worth it. But if you’re tired, if you feel defeated, if it feels impossible, you’re not alone. I get it. I hope you find your peace, I hope you find your routine. And I hope you know that this will all be worth it someday. You’ve got this soldier.