I am a pathfinder. All my life when presented with a problem I am the one who finds a solution. i never give up. I never lose hope and it’s always worked. Always.
I credit a strong belief in a higher power, but secretly think it’s because I’m very smart and good at synthetic analysis; bringing disparate bits of information together in unique ways. I think outside the box.
But puberty has been a puzzle I haven’t been able to solve. The maturing of my disabled daughter has been the single most confounding event in my life. You see, her abilities/disabilities are unique. Truly unique. She’s the only one of her kind. It’s not some kind of inability to feel pain, or allergy to sunlight. It’s a mix of known quantities that her brain has integrated into strange and unique ways. You could say she’s autistic. You could focus on her severe anxiety disorder. Or her OCD. Or the seizures. Or, or, or. Those are the highlights. I focus on her shining capabilities as much as I can. Her artistic talent is inspirational. Her own synthetic abilities, like determining celestial mechanics without instruction just by “thinking about it”, are jaw dropping. The wisdom that comes out of her mouth tells me she is a very, very old soul.
But, I can’t solve her problems. This grand puzzle is beyond me. I can’t help her anxieties about food and being alone, or being with people. Not enough. I can’t tell her she’ll be better one day, “cured”. I can’t grow her out of this I’ve realized. She is who she is. Her journey is intertwined with mine, probably for the rest of my life, but it is her journey. She has a counselor, tutors, doctors of every type. She is who she is and I see a vulnerable life ahead for her, but have also learned to deeply trust her to always have surprises in store for us that we never could have predicted.
I’ve been judged by teachers, other parents, doctors, counselors, and society to be a bad parent because obviously if I did better she’d be better. So few truly understand she doesn’t fit a mold, she doesn’t conform to a diagnosis.
She was such a bright and happy little girl. Everyone’s favorite. She glowed like an angel with white blond hair and impish humor. Even then her incandescent soul captured the hearts of everyone she met. She was whole. The speech and learning delays identified in kindergarten were minor speed bumps. We tried different schools with limited success, but she was happy. It seemed a minor puzzle to resolve.
And then puberty struck her like the devil’s freight train and very nearly killed her. Our bright bubbly girl was gone. There were a few warning signs, but the day the hormones turned on for real, it was the end of one life and the start of a life of despair and pain.
We went to every doctor we could. One told her she’d grow out of it. Puberty happens to everyone, the doctor said. She almost killed herself after that violation of the Hippocratic oath.
So we are learning, accepting, and trying to plan for her future. We finally have a counselor with a clue. But she likes to get paid once in a while. Fancy that.
No money. A lifetime of poor decisions. What have I done to her? My faith waivers. The demon in my brain sprays a toxic guilt throughout my soul. I’m aging, which means I’m dying. I’ll be gone one day. What then? Please God, stay with her. You brought her back from certain death as an infant. I have to believe there was a reason. I pray she will become tempered steel and live the quiet artist’s life she dreams of. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m tired. I don’t know where the path is anymore.
Her life is her own. I can only hope she is a pathfinder too. Find Your path. Reclaim your soul. I know there’s a way, but it’s not mine to find. It’s yours. Godspeed.
