Legitimately, every time you think you've found the routine that even remotely allows you to start thinking that this is what normal really is...the universe decides it's time to spice things up.
The last year and a half we've been living what I thought could be considered a "normal" life compared to prior years. Every six month appointments, the IEP at school, the just daily ins and outs of having a child with Autism, ADHD, dyslexia, sensory processing disorder, speech and cognitive delays, weight maintenance issues, developmental delays, behavioral concerns. I mean really, that's all normal for us at this point. We've lived it for so long that it is just a part of our lives we no longer question.
And yet, somehow, I still managed to find myself in the hallway of therapy clinic in tears today. A punch in the gut, with the air sucked right out of me...in the hallway, losing it, like it was day one of therapy evaluations all over again.
We had a great year and a half away from the constant appointments...for seven years straight we had weekly therapies inside and outside of school. For a eighteen months we forgot about it all, except the little nagging voice that said, eventually you'll be back. Not a matter of if, all a matter of when. We knew it, we were told to plan for it. I had the date sitting on my calendar for a month now...we knew he would automatically qualify, and we wouldn't even have to appeal the decision with his insurance either. It was just a formality.
And yet, it still felt awful. In fact, probably even more awful than day one...it feels like failure and defeat. Like we were good enough to keep him out of therapy, that somewhere down the line we messed up. Sitting in the evaluation room across the hall from a TV with the Xbox hooked up we fund-raised and donated money towards buying for the clinic as a discharge celebration.
We were excited to know it was being used and has been a huge benefit to the clinic, but it hurt to even look at it. That in your face realization that this part of life shouldn't have to be this way, that this isn't normal, that life in and of itself is nothing short of a roller coaster of highs and lows...and here we were somewhere in the middle of that transition.
No clue whether it is the upwards climb, or the downward slope...but here we are along for the ride yet again. Sitting in my van, screaming at the steering wheel because I was just so frustrated and angry over the cards our kid has been dealt again...wondering when in the world will he ever truly catch a break, or is this all going to be just his version of normal.
I walked in to discuss his evaluation, and there he was playing with the same box of Army men he always did at the end of sessions...delicately setting up each piece exactly where he wanted it, which of course meant he ran out of time to actually play with it by the time we were done talking, but nonetheless setting it up like he always had.
It's almost as if we had never left...the setting on the dryer never actually changed, only what we have been putting in it, and here we are changing the load once again.