10/03/2022
Absolutely this. Keep on keeping on. There is no magic fix, no one who will save the day. There is only here and now. You in this moment. You can control your reactions but you can't control others. I am certainly at a stage in life where practising radical acceptance is my bag. Messy, frustrating, draining, infuriating, exhausting and wonderful all at once. And completely mine.
Our coparenting meetings have changed significantly over the years.
We used to make lists and plans, routines and schedules.
Then, as life became busier, sometimes trickier, and that little bit more demanding of our time and energy, we knew we had to truly change things up and let a lot of stuff go.
Yesterday we sat at the table across from one another and laughed, sighed, rolled our eyes and sat back with our arms folded, thinking.
We said a whole lot of "I know..I know" with deep empathy and compassion for ourselves and our children.
We went over the latest going ons with our children, the great parts, the "I have no idea how to handle this" parts, all of it.
We used to spend longer coming up with potential solutions, but these days it's quick, and it's normally the same answer..
"We need to really knuckle down hard on looking after ourselves."
This looks really, really different for each of us.
He does his thing, I do mine.
I spend many of my work days sleeping at the moment, or writing, talking to friends, or in therapy, processing my "stuff".
He likes to lock himself in a room with headphones, gaming.
Paying attention to what we put into our bodies, how much we're moving, how connected we are with our passions and interests, focusing solely on our wellbeing.
When I'm well, when I'm rested, I'm calm and I'm far more capable of managing and accepting left of field situations and circumstances within my family.
The above is not always possible, however, and there are periods where I find myself in dire straits, having meltdown after meltdown, crying over the drop of a hat and waking up with excessive anxiety.
Sometimes I can get away, sometimes I can't.
But it's all data. It helps me to understand myself better and to know what I need, or what I can offer myself in terms of enough to get by until the periods when I can give myself more.
We no longer pose questions to ourselves or one another such as "How can we get our child to..*insert thing here*", or "What will the consequence be when they..*insert thing here*".
Instead, it's centred on us.
"How can I better prepare myself to cope when..*insert thing here* happens?"
This is radical acceptance.
I arm myself for whatever is our normal at any given moment in time.
Am I cleaning faeces, food and all sorts of various bits and bobs up often?
Yeah. Have been for years.
Am I constantly advocating, appealing, communicating, fighting for more funding, more support, more understanding?
Often.
Am I managing sibling aggression?
Yeah.
Am I being hit and hurt?
Sometimes, yep. I can't imagine the frustration of having thoughts, feelings and dreams and not yet being able to communicate them in a way that is accessible and comfortable. We're working on it, always. But sometimes their body is their only tool of communication.
Is parenting hard?
Yeah.
Is being autistic and parenting hard?
S**t yes. Triggering, exhausting, loud, smelly, threat response inducing..all of that.
And it's wonderful and beautiful and the most incredible experience and the only thing in my life I've incessantly worked on myself to be better and better at.
The greatest gift we can offer our children, the fastest route to them having a sense of safety and security is looking after ourselves.
Those of us in advocacy, those of us speaking publicly about parenting, raising and loving neurodivergent children haven't cracked some mysterious code on a perceived deficit based experience and lifestyle and made it better or more neuronormative.
We practice radical acceptance. I mean, is it even radical to say we just accept and love our own children unconditionally?
When life gets super challenging in our family, I ask myself "If this was to be our new normal from hereon, what would I set in place for myself and my family in order to find calm amongst the chaos?" and I get to work.
I might go for a drive and scream at the top of my lungs.
I might write it out. I might rage in therapy. I might text someone and tell them "This is FU***NG hard".
I might ask the childrens' Dad to step in so I can step out.
I might sit, glued to a screen for hours on end, disconnected from my children and my feelings.
On my own, I might have a stern chat with myself over leaving the house alone and just being with my children with a cup of tea.
I might pack us all up into the car and go through the car wash for the sensory experience.
We might go through a drive thru somewhere and order a Big Mac.
We might go for a walk.
I might throw headphones on or put on some music.
I might start kicking off loud, jumping up and down and creating my own chaos to break the loop and reset the energy in the home.
Being in community in a way that works for me is so important. Sharing space with families who share similar attitudes helps profoundly.
It's okay for parenting to be hard. That's totally normal.
Blaming our children for it, not helpful. Grieving the child we believe we should have had? A waste of life. There is no other child, there's the one right in front of us who is completely whole and beautiful and meant to be.
My children meet me where I'm at.
Always.
The greatest gift we can offer our children is to look after ourselves.
KF x
Image is a black and white photograph of Kristy in her thirties, laying in a hammock with one of her children as a baby. Kristy is looking at the camera and smiling, her baby has their eyes closed and their finger in their mouth with a smile.