The world has gone mad.
I’ve been in a funk and haven’t written a thing in a month. A THING. In a MONTH. Not here. Nowhere. I barely post to fb or twitter anymore, and tumblr just basically irritates the crap out of me sometimes. Especially lately.
I mean what can I say? I’ve been feeling numb inside. As if everything I could write about is verboten. Which honestly, much of it has been. Much of it has been painful situations loved ones have been going through. Not me. Them. And in some way yes what they’ve been going through affects me, mainly in the way that it hurts me to watch them go through hell, it’s not MY hell. But it’s left me helpless, and numb.
I keep feeling like I have all these words inside a balloon that’s growing bigger and bigger and the balloon is inside of me and it’s making me feel like I’m going to pop any day. Only I’ve been so afraid to put them down.
I’ve seen a family member go through illness and now thankfully recover. Again, not mine to go into detail about.
My son’s paternal grandfather is going through a heavy battle with cancer. One that right now is in a very bad place. I’m still friends with my ex, we chose to be for our son, and also because we never disliked each other in the first place. Just grew apart. I’ve always stayed friends with his parents. His father is one of those men that others would refer to as “the salt of the earth”. He’s a great guy. And he is insanely close with my son, his oldest grandchild. His oldest grandson. Who is named after his father.
When son’s dad told me the news that things were worsening I cried for a couple of hours. Terrified of what would happen if he never recovered. If this was his last Christmas. We’ve chosen not to tell our son most of this. We need to keep him anxiety free as much as possible for now. Son has had his own hard time lately and I can’t, we can’t, compound it.
Last week there was a school meeting that was determining where we would go for services and academics with son, it was an insightful meeting, and afterwards while standing outside ex spoke of his dad. He looked like he was going to crumble to the ground and I just reached out and hugged him. He let me, he thanked me. He needed that from everyone right now.
I left that day feeling happy. I ran my errands. The day was good for the most part.
It was 1pm by the time I arrived home and had a chance to go online for the day.
And then I saw what I had been unaware of for hours. 20 children. Six adults. Dead. Newtown.
I saw my facebook feed and then turned on the news. I sat down and cried. And cried and cried. I didn’t know them or anyone else there. But it tore me to pieces inside. Once I saw the ages it crushed even more. 6. 7. Kindergarten and first grade. That’s what they reported at first.
I have a child that age. I couldn’t, no, I can’t, imagine. I don’t want to.
My first instinct was that I wanted to be with my kids. The school was three blocks from us, I could go get her. But I looked at the clock and saw it was an hour until school was out. And I didn’t want to panic. It wasn’t her. I couldn’t, no shouldn’t, go. I stayed put.
I don’t want to keep going on here. This isn’t my story to tell. And in some ways maybe we all need to stop talking about it unless we experienced it. So many articles have been thrown around, so many posts from everyone offering their feelings and opinions. Which is ok to some extent but some are starting to be positively ridiculous.
I hurt for these babies, for these families and this community as much as everyone else. This reached deep into my core unlike anything else that’s happened in this country the last few years. I don’t think any parent especially will feel safe for a while. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders for something to happen. We’ll be on our toes, trying to keep our kids even closer and safer than they’ve ever been before.
Then one day we’ll loosen up and let our worlds get back to normal. But normal will never happen for those families. I wish I could go there and hug each and every one of them. I really do.
I have other words to write regarding the young man who committed this atrocity, but now is not the time or space.
The only words on that subject I have to write is regarding the earlier reports about him having Aspergers and being reported as “odd”. I felt it was unfair. For a person with Aspergers is not a violent person. I know this as truth. I can’t sit here and speculate what was wrong with that boy, there could have been many different things. Or he was just a cold-blooded killer.
However, when the media started rolling with this as a supposed reason why, my blood boiled. I even took ABC news to task via twitter. Others saw what I wrote and retweeted me a bit. It was simple: This could very well put those with Aspergers in a very bad light. They were doing a very big disservice to children and adults with Aspergers. I have a son who has it, and he’s not a violent person. Granted he has some anxiety/depression issues and there have been some extreme outbursts on an infrequent basis over the years. But they occurred only at times when he was feeling picked upon too much and he felt angry and hopeless. He was always remorseful and he never hurt us. My walls generally took the brunt of it.
I took him into my arms that day when he got home and hugged him so hard he yelped. He knew why. They had heard at school and he looked at me and said that he would/could never hurt anyone. I knew this, he has the biggest heart. He smiles and laughs a lot. While his peers sometimes don’t get him, adults positively love him. He’s a sweetheart who just wants to be loved.
This is what Aspergers is like. I’ve met other kids with Aspergers and most of them are just like my kid.
So it definitely is time that we stop putting a label on people and trying to use that label as a reason why people do things like this.
Instead maybe it’s better if we open our hearts and minds a bit more and maybe reach out to someone we misunderstand. I’m sure they’re just waiting for someone to be there for them.