A Normal Breath

I was finally sitting on the couch with a cup of tea when my oldest daughter came downstairs.

“Um, Mom, I just walked in on Ellie in the bathroom and she was holding poop in her hand.”

Shit. Literally.

So this is it, this is going to be the “next thing”.

Our new challenge. A new behavior. A new reason to hold my breath.

It is the day after Christmas and I feel as though I haven’t exhaled in the last 72 hours. I thought I could finally breathe normally.

Ellie’s been on a sharp, free falling downward spiral since high school ended two years ago and her transition program landed with an enormous thud, about a year later.

A combination of increasing OCD and anxiety rendered her, and to a great extent us, practically home bound.

We are all exhausted trying to move mountains to help her with little or no success. Nothing has worked.

And yes, we are guilty of trying to appease her, I’m ashamed to admit. We know that doesn’t help, but we crave a little normality, a little peace.

We all love Ellie, we ADORE her. That’s never been an issue.

She’s so easy to love but so incredibly rigid and difficult to deal with.

Ellie’s only happy at home if all the fiddly things that consume her are to her satisfaction: the shades are at the right heights, the labels in the cupboards and fridge are facing forward, all the paper in the house has been ripped and soaked and thrown away, everyone has done everything in the order in which is acceptable, etc. The list is long.

So, I put my tea down and I get up. I go to the bathroom.

I give Ellie an impassioned speech about cleanliness, about germs, sickness, self care, responsibility. I can tell she’s not getting it, but I persevere.

What else can I do?

We wash her hands with soap and very warm water. Again. Then again. Then hand sanitizer. Repeat speech.

Ellie is clean and unfazed. I sneak off and cry into my cold tea and write.

Written by, An Anonymous Mother

Josie and her husband are parents to three wonderful young adults, the youngest, Ellie, 22, lives at home and has autism, OCD and anxiety.

Finding Cooper’s Voice accepts guest posts from writers that choose to stay anonymous. I do this because so many of these topics are hard to talk about. The writers are worried about being shamed. They are worried about being judged. As a writer and mother I totally get it. But I also understand the importance of telling our stories. And this will ALWAYS be a safe place to do it.

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