Panic

The ones who know me personally know, that I don’t panic. My emergency switch turns on, emotions are out the window and the focus on task at hand is the only thing that matters. I fall into pieces right after the imminent danger subsides…

I have attempted first food shopping in three weeks in a large store. I went in the first hour, reserved for seniors and vulnerable population. I even brought my son’s medical paperwork to prove to the store personnel I’m not making stuff up. But this is Canada, civilized place where I was greeted with a smile and called a senior citizen for the day, no paperwork needed. Ok I’m going to go along with this label, even thou the lack of care from my hairdresser clearly shows already. I was afraid of dark roots showing as my usually short hair is getting way too long for my liking. No dark roots, just white hair…

So senior citizen for a day I enter the store in tight fitting custom sewed mask and disposable gloves. And my list of basics comes out, I walk efficiently through the store, maintaining my distance, not touching my mask. There are several packages of toilet paper left on otherwise empty shelf, we are down to three rolls so I put the smallest packaging into my basket feeling so guilty as if I just pulled it out of hands of a old lady with a cane… Really brain, WTF? I have enough problems, I don’t need you to add to them.

The entire store has maybe 40 people in it, it is no problem to maintain your distance. As I look around I realize I’m the only one in a mask and just one another lady is wearing disposable gloves. I’m the weird one out. People here are told to wear a mask if they are sick. I’m not thou, I have been in isolation for two weeks (lost count), but I have to do my best to create another, albeit insufficient, transmission barrier between the world and my son. Do I have to print a t-shirt “I’m healthy and I’m doing my very best to keep my medically complex child healthy too”? I might have to. I complete my shopping with a weird polite shout through a plexi glass barrier with a clerk who is not even wearing gloves. I pack my own groceries, as per new store policy, well done there. As I start heading out the door my mental battle is over, I take a deep breath and start bawling my eyes out.

The emotional dam was already over capacity when I woke up this morning. This essential trip has pushed me over the edge and now the flood is imminent.

I live in a heightened state of stress already. Tomas’ seizures, his low blood ketone level and lack of any therapies and help has pushed me even further. My government’s response to protect the vulnerable said exactly zero words about how to help families with complex medical needs children, even thou there are couple thousand of them in this province alone. Instead my respite funding that ends today will not be renewed and I was placed on yet another bullshit wait list. So here I’m, gray, thinking hair, pushing a half empty cart and bawling, unable to contain the flood of bizarre emotions any longer.

I had to learn to be openly vulnerable, it was one of the hardest things, since I’m a control freak. I wouldn’t play group sports, because I have no control over people slacking. Yeah that’s how bad I have it. Competitive control freak living in a world that she has very limited control over. Now thrown into a bizarre outer reality of absolutely no control over other people’s actions… There is no way to pretend anymore that some control exists. So if I thought I have learned to be vulnerable I was utterly mistaken. I have learned how to internally deny certain aspects of my reality, but that reality’s boundary has just shifted and I’m trying to weather the storm of emotions that inevitably follow.

So I’m here, doing the very best thing for my mental health. Throwing that crap out into open through these words for everyone to see. We all are coping with various strategies. I thought I had it all figured out, but I don’t. To quote a line from “Ozark”; “There is a pain that uses you, and then there is a pain that you use…”

I’m choosing to use my pain. To grow, find strength to support my fellow “special parents”. To be the the responsible one, to be the kind one.

How about your pain, what will you do with it? No matter what you will or will not do, I trust you will do the best you can do in this given moment with the resources, skills, and knowledge you have.