Take my Hand

“Take my hand, we’re gonna go, where, we, can, shine!”

Music has always been a way for me to heal. I don’t play, I don’t sing…I listen.

There have been times in my life I feel as though I am being punished. Being punished…but for what? I am not quite sure?

A dark cloud forms and rains down…. but why? I have racked my brain.

I have asked tough questions. I have dug deep, deeper then I know others are even capable of going.

I have blamed others. I have blamed God and of course, blamed myself. But all of this effort and all of this digging and all of this blaming doesn’t change the reality of it all.

This is where music comes in.

I was 15 years old when my Dad died.  Life slapped me in the face in the middle of my teenage years.

That hard reality of one day he was here and the next he wasn’t. That quick life change.

Sorrow, regret and longing for normalcy, longing for the way it was, the way it was supposed to be.

My life went in fast forward, from no cares, great friends, awesome siblings, fun teenage years; to the reality of death, the reality of what that all means.

The comprehension and understanding of money, depression, anger; you name it. I was in it. It was all around me.

Many hours spent on my bathroom floor, holding my legs tight, rocking back and forth in pain, but nothing quite hurt.

There was no exact target, it was just all so painful.

I would see others living their life, their families, their happiness and I would cry in shear jealousy…. for it was once what I had.

That was the path I was on and it was gone.

I learned to let myself cry, to mourn.

I would put on sad, the saddest of sad songs and long for what I was missing.

Long for my dad, my life.

My path had officially changed and through music I learned that if I let myself go through these emotions, and let the sadness engulf me then I could let it all change me.

I had picked myself up of the bathroom floor and lived life.  I created happiness.

Lots of the same loving friends, the same awesome siblings, a husband and two kids of my own.

Sure, throughout the last 25 years the cloud appeared, and I was challenged. I had to grow and heal.

That dark cloud has resurfaced. That punishing dark cloud and it feels even heavier and longer and harder.

This cloud is in the shape of autism.

I am close to two years since my daughter’s diagnosis at 3.

I have dug deep.

I have blamed, I have internalized, I have challenged doctors, challenged my marriage, close to the point of divorce and I have even contemplated my own existence.

I have that longing again. The regret, the unbearable jealousy.

I beg for her to speak, to speak to me, to her brother, to have her just simply understand and comprehend.

All of this pain has returned me to the bathroom floor, holding tight, rocking back and forth and praying.

Praying my dad can hear me. Praying he will help us make it all okay somehow.

Begging for everything to be the way it should be, the way I deserve it to be, the way she deserves it to be, the way her brother and our entire family deserves it to be.

As her 5th birthday approaches we are taking her out of the public school. The very same public school I went to, in a community that surrounded me and supported me in my journey as a teenager is no longer equipped for her and her journey.

Why is her path so very different then everyone else?

I think back to her fourth birthday and it came and went.

I feel ashamed, ashamed that I didn’t want to celebrate.

I had felt so defeated and deflated. I was mourning who I thought she would be.

I was scared for what was next, that unknown of what is next for her, and so I hid. I was hiding from it all.

And so, as her 5th birthday approaches, I still feel that pull to just hide, but I am making a different decision.

I am refusing to be angry or sad or mad or hide.

I have turned to music, yet again, finding my anthem to help me grieve, to change and to evolve.

I encourage you to play this song and play it loud.

Though this song is about a break-up, isn’t that what this is about, breaking up with your emotions?

Breaking up with the shock of it all. Breaking up with what you thought this life would be like and truly embracing it for what it is.

I am making a decision to get off the bathroom floor, yet again and not cling to the past, no matter what lies ahead.

I am taking her little hand and rising from these ashes and going where we can shine! (press shine to listen, listen to the entire song and play it loud)

“Your soul is the one thing you can’t compromise, step out of the shadow we’re going to go, where, we, can, shine!”

“It don’t come down to nothing except love in the end.”

Written by, Megan Camara

I live just south of Boston in a small beach town. I have a husband and 2 kids. My son is in Kindergarten and my daughter Harper is 4, turning 5 tomorrow. I wrote this about my journey and the beginning of hers.

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Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.