I’m struggling as a parent, it’s true. I’ve made some terrible mistakes.
I have mental health issues. I’m broken. I’m tired. I’m a 24/7 caregiver to everyone in our home.
But I’m still approachable.
My heart is aching. You make phone calls to authorities without knowing the truth. You don’t take the time to knock on my door and talk to me. Maybe you don’t realize the circumstances or maybe you don’t care. You seem to know a lot of our situation, enough that we’ve spoken but not enough to know everything.
I am doing the very best I can to raise my children. Nobody could have shown me what life was going to be like, to raise this motley crew of a family that we have. The stress of raising kids with special needs, to have the stresses that we do. You have seen first hand what our son is like, you must have. We can be loud and ugly. It’s a hard load to carry.
I do not claim to be perfect, nor do I claim not to make mistakes. This road is rough terrain. I’ve been bumped around and have lost my cool a number times. I’m not making excuses, I readily admit that I’ve done things I shouldn’t have. I said as much to the people who came to ask me about it. I did not hide, I told the truth.
Our life is difficult enough right now. If you’re that concerned about our kids, knock and offer help. We need it. Respite time is few and far between. Now that we have no full time income, we can’t afford it anyway. I promise we won’t turn away help. If you really want to make a difference, be a part of our lives. Please don’t hide behind the phone anonymously anymore, you’re doing more damage and making life more stressful for us.
I know that you are only doing what you think is best. But I promise you, a knock on the door will suffice. In the future I hope you remember that. If you need more information on what we deal with please look up RAD, ADD, Destructive Behaviour Disorder to name just a few. Again, I’m not making excuses, but I want you to understand what we deal with on a regular day to day basis.
It hurts, I won’t lie. I’m ashamed of myself for the mistakes that I make, for the ways I let my children down. I’m embarrassed. But more than your judgement, I need a helping hand.
A Broken Mom.