Shift

Recently, I was discussing burn out with my therapist.  When asked to describe it, the word that came to mind was complacent.  For years now we have been struggling to potty train my son who is now 5 1/2.  I have spent countless hours meeting with his psychologist, creating and following strategies and working with my son.  With the exception of a short period of relative success, my son is not trained. 

It is devastating to me.  My handsome, brilliant son seems so disconnected from his body that he can't seem to process the information his body sends him and, therefore, he seems unaware that he has had an accident.  If I hadn't been able to successfully potty train his brothers, I'd feel completely inept.  As it stands, I feel only inept when it comes to him.  It's hard not to feel that I should be able to do this, to figure this out.  I have to. If I don't, his future will be so greatly limited and I can't stand to let that happen.  Despite these strong feelings, I find myself feeling completely helpless and I almost give up.

When discussing these feelings with my therapist, she suggested that I consider my complacence more as an acceptance of my son's disability.  Whew.  Despite all the hours of working with my son, despite all the appointments with psychologists, it was clear to me at that moment that I was afraid to fully accept my son's disability as it stands at this moment because that would mean I'd have to face it.  I have to let down my protective shield of denial and see his condition for what it is.  I have to accept that he may never be trained or that it may take years and years and years.  I simply don't know and the experts don't know either.

It's so hard not to be frustrated with him and to try to explain why he needs to use the bathroom.  He simply isn't there yet and I have yet to find the solution that will get him there.  I have to acknowledge that I'm not in control here and my son needs me to accept him exactly as he is.  He needs compassion, understanding and an open mind to help him - not just reward systems, rules and consequences.  I need to expel my negative feelings and find compassion and to listen, truly listen to him, in order to help him.  I also have to prepare myself for the possibility that he may never be trained even though I find that even too hard to type much less feel.  I simply can't give up but I have to stay in the present with him.  Hopefully, with a calmer, more peaceful mind, I will find a solution that will help him or I simply have to wait until he is truly ready.  Either way, I'm working on feeling less complacent and beaten by shifting my focus on finding peace with my son's disability as it is today.