Yeah. I'm Mad.

That's me in the corner
That's me in the spotlight, 
Losing my religion
Trying to keep up with you
And I don't know if I can do it
Oh no, I've said too much
I haven't said enough
I thought that I heard you laughing
I thought that I heard you sing
I think I thought I saw you try...

I’ve been a bit out of sorts lately. Internally. My psyche is askew. I'm bruised and battered inside. My reactions visceral.

I’m off plumb. Emotionally tired from my internal struggle.

I’m wrestling with being mad at God.

Because of Will. And his situation.

While parenting a special needs kiddo is the only sort of parenting I know, it ain’t always the easiest thing in the book. It’s tough sometimes to conform my natural standard issue maternal instinct to fit the template of my non-standard issue son.

He’s developmentally delayed. We’re still working on expanding our palette  and potty training and using our words appropriately and focusing when necessary. Our life is one big educational minute. 

And he’s really made tremendous progress. I have to keep reminding myself of that -- for a little boy who’s stood on the precipice of life in the first fortnight of his life, he’s one fantastic miracle. And my greatest blessing.

I just wish something -- anything -- would be easy for him. Wouldn’t be such a struggle or process. That something would come to him quickly and naturally and standardly. He works so hard to achieve every single one of his accomplishments. Is it too much to ask that the kid be given a break? That something just come to him without the lengthy one-step-forward, two-steps-back? 

This just makes my heart ache with heaviness. It's not fair. Not to me. I know I'm beyond biased here. But still.

I’m back to a place I’ve been occasionally in my faith walk -- this being pissed at God -- and it scares me a bit. My God is a big God and me being angry with Him is something He can certainly handle. But that doesn't mean I'm comfortable with it. Makes me a little nervous, but it is, as I like to say, what it is.

I'm not running away from church or my faith. Not at all. And I’m not in that place one finds oneself when one is mad at someone and doesn't want to be around that person. I still want to be around Him. Him being God. I just may be a bit of a snot when we're together.

My breaking point came, in, of all places, church. During the sermon last Sunday, which was focusing on the very cool topic of "Hanging with the Almighty," we were camped in Mark 9, talking about how in order to really gain relationship with Christ, you need to come off the mountain and get into the action. Christ encountered a man with a son who was plagued with seizure and convulsions -- in those days, they  viewed that as being possessed by a spirit. Nowadays, it's akin to epilepsy or a seizure disorder.

Which is what Will has.

Christ says, in Mark 9:23, in response to the boy's father, "Everything is possible for him who believes." Fine. I believe. So why are things so hard and scary for my boy?

Despite my questions and anger and pain, my love for and belief in God hasn’t changed -- that’s rock solid. I suppose I'm simply in a bit of a spiritual crisis. And on the good news front -- this emotional mess I'm currently in is only slightly compounded by the residue of my still-lingering guilt over my body having failed Will in the womb. I went through a long period when I carried the burden of guilt about not doing *something* or knowing that *something* was amiss when I was in premature labor. Not there now. Not a lot, anyway. So that's good.

I’m frustrated. And tired. And even a bit melancholy. I just want my baby to have the easiest and smoothest path in life possible. The definition of easy and smooth, however, is not only constantly changing, but seems further and further out of reach. And because of that, I’m pissed. I'm also tired of questions and pseudo-sympathic nods and clucks and being avoided because of Will. Because people just don't know what to say or don't want to say anything at all. We're the family that people only ask after. It hurts. Badly. It's an ugly truth. One that I need to get over as well. This wallowing is not constructive. I know that. But still.

As I hear my boy in the garage right now, helping with the laundry (if you can call lifting the lid to watch things spin around helping) and singing  that “happiness is anyone and anything at all that's loved by you,” I gain some hope and a bit of perspective. I’m still angry, mind you -- this snit I’m in might take some time to work out. I just have to keep focused on the important matters at hand, checking my emotions and yes, my ego, at the door.

Here’s hoping that this too shall pass. Here's to it being sooner rather than later.

Nothing's gonna harm you
Not while I'm around
Nothing's gonna harm you
No sir, not while I'm around...
~ Mr. Sondheim