Being the mom of a complex ADHDer (ok, well TWO complex ADHDers) is a little bit like being in those walk-through haunted houses, a so-called “Fun House.”  You’re in the dark, sometimes there are people nearby but you’re mostly on your own, and you are either recovering from a jump scare or about to endure one.  It’s unpredictable, full of tears and an occasional laugh, and you know there’s no way out but through it.

Some days and weeks and years are worse than others.  Ali and I alternate between thankfulness and despair.  Our journey was going really well for the past year or so until my son developed excruciating pain in his stomach.  He’s brave and strong and an inspiration to me, so I know when he asks to go to the emergency room, it’s bad.  That was another jump scare I didn’t see coming. 

But it’s always like that.  We can’t see what lies ahead of us on this journey.  I find myself angry a good bit of the time, not with anyone or anything in particular, but because I am on guard.  I’m angry because I’m afraid.  I’m angry because I don’t have control.  I’m angry because I believe that my son’s life has a purpose but I wish the purpose didn’t involve so much pain.  I’m angry because I don’t want to be tiptoeing through the “Fun House” but rather serenely walking through the forest, with sunlight coming through the trees and a clear path and signs posted.  There are no direction signs on my path, but still I move forward.  

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