When last I wrote, I said that I needed more time to process how I was feeling after Robbie's latest IEP session. So... I didn't exactly process. Instead, I did a 2 hour dive into the pit of despair, as in Felt Perfectly Fine and two hours later I looked around me and there was a deep well of sadness in my heart, soul, spirit, life.
Amazing how fast that can happen when you're a person prone to depression.
So I've been slogging my way up the circular staircase back up to ground level. It's slow going. I think there is a hidden slide that I go down (wheeeeeeee, whoops, how'd I get here again?), and then you have to take Gravity Filled Steps one at a time for days on end until you feel "normal" again.
(I almost went on a tangent here, as to what IS normal, but when I thought about looking up the dictionary definition, I decided that this is a tangent and I don't feel like sidetracking just now. Because I actually have a point today.)
Anyway... I've been seeing a counselor for several months now, and I went for my regular appointment. I'd slogged my way back up to sub-basement level at least (the bottom of the pit is near China...), and thought I was better. But... no, she got to the heart of it pretty quickly.
It's Just NOT Fair.
Not that life has to be fair. I mean - nobody deserves cancer or children dying on them or miscarriage or horrible financial stuff. I don't believe in karma. I believe in God, in Jesus Christ my Savior. Is it fair that He had to die on the cross to make a path for me to be able to even stand in the presence of God? No. Is it fair that God provided a way? No. Fair would be paying my own price. Fair would be... far worse than I have it right now.
But there is still this part of me that says, I work hard, I pray, Robbie is an innocent child, why us, why him, why oh why oh why oh why. Insert full tantrum, complete with stomping feet and pouting lip.
And I don't let myself feel that. And I need to - I need to be able to say to God that this doesn't seem fair, and it hurts. Oh, God, it HURTS. Instead I push it to the back and say all the platitudes that I can, and cling to scripture about God loving me - and some of that isn't bad, but some of it IS if I don't let myself know what I'm feeling.
And then I end up in the pit of despair. Because I'm sad and overwhelmed, and I need to let it out instead of putting it all inside me, where it ends up hurting me instead of just being how I feel.
I feel better now, by the way.
I wish Robbie didn't have autism.
I wish Robbie could talk to me more.
I wish I didn't have to go to meetings and advocate and keep pushing and hoping and praying.
I wish God would heal Robbie, right now, instantly.
I wish God would heal me.
And it doesn't feel fair, but there you have it.