From the Wolf Den: Taking It

So, knowing how to start explaining a situation we've been in before is more difficult tonight. Difficult, because we've been down this road many, many times in two years. Difficult, because of the nature of the situation. Difficult, because we all are wearying in every humanly way of riding highs that always, always seem to end in deep lows.

The details are complex and not the point of this story tonight, and I don't want to go there, but those close to me know something is up. Yukon is unaware of the latest situation; he is in the middle of the Yakama Nation's Camp Chaparral for wounded Native American Veterans and totally off the grid. I have thought about calling him, but then, he cannot do anything from where he is. It is strange, though, to be back in a situation where I do not have a partner to lean on.

At any rate, the whole point of this post is to talk about how we, the parents of children with severe emotional and/or behavioral disabilities, Take It. Because we have to.
Yes, yes, there are support groups and online chats and reams of printed material outlining the strategies for taking care of the caregiver. But when the end of the day comes, and we've done our venting and written our rants and shared our triumphs, we still ultimately, simply Take It.

The world goes on whether or not our children have hurt someone else, or themselves, whether we have not slept in two days or whether our non-disabled children are needy, too. The newspaper still falls on our front porches with a thump and the coffeemakers still grind out strong brew whether or not our kids have a good day or a bad one. We still drive our other kids to school and cub scouts and Sunday School, switching between the regular schedules of Life and the confusing system that is therapy, medication, and treatment reviews. Rock on. We'll do our best to rock along with you. Because we Take It.

One day, one hour; hell, even one minute at a time. Some days it's the best we can do.