When “It’s Fine” Means “It’s Not Fine”
When Mason’s therapists and I hit a roadblock, I turned to my special needs support group for ideas on why Mason was so apt to keep his brother from enjoying anything outside of watching Mickey Mouse.
Why did he follow his brother around non-stop? Parenting and scolding, every second of every day?
Why did he feel so entitled to every toy in the house, even those he most definitely disliked?
Then someone had a brilliant, but heartbreaking suggestion.
Maybe Mason had realized that his brother was surpassing him in some areas, and his co-parenting wasn’t a controlling situation, but a jealousy that his little brother was starting to do better than him.
Cue: tears.
As a special needs parent, you often find yourself worrying about your neurotypical child, just as much as your special needs child.
You worry that they are missing out on quality time, a normal childhood and that they feel left out.
Never does it cross your mind that you special needs child might be wondering the opposite.
You never stop to think that your special boy is sitting there, watching every move, picking up on every detail and noticing that his younger brother, of almost 2 years, is becoming more advanced than him in his cognitive and motor abilities.
When I read that suggestion, something clicked, eyes welted, and my heart sank. How had I never thought about Mason in that light?
He is such a bright boy and though he is limited in some of his abilities, his cognitive skills are far more advanced. It made me sad.
Sad that he would notice his 2 year old brother has more skills in building a Lego house or playing pretend with cars or dinosaurs.
Sad that he would notice this and couldn’t do anything to change it – that it would only cause more frustrations and anger, possibly resentment.
How could he notice and feel all of these things, emotions that he can’t even identify or begin to understand. I felt angry. Angry that I missed this possibility.
Angry that he could understand that much and be so paralyzed that it was just digging a deeper hole for him to stand and stare blankly out of.
Where do you begin? How do I explain this to either of my kids?
That it’s okay for them to be at different stages. That they can help each other. That we are all in this together.
How do I begin to build Mason’s self-esteem, when it’s his own little brother making him feel this way?
It’s the first time I’ve felt totally helpless, even more than when we got his diagnosis. I don’t want my children to grow up resenting each other.
Brothers are supposed to support and lift each other, but now I’m beginning to understand the anger in Mason’s eyes.
The anger that I see when Riker picks up that Lego, drives Hot Wheels on that imaginary track, is counting the number of fingers on my hand, when he uses an iPad effortlessly.
Now I feel the pain my little boy is experiencing, and I don’t know how to stop it.
We always tell Mason, “It’s fine. Let him play.” This usually just ends up in more frustration and something flying across the room or him hitting walls or furniture.
Now I understand that to him, “it’s fine,” is not fine. To Mason, it’s just another reminder of what he’s missing out on. Something that doesn’t come as easily to him.
To him, Riker is stealing the limelight and that is not something younger brothers should do.
Of course, I don’t see my boys any differently. They are simply good at different things.
They are both brilliant and amazing boys. But oh, how my heart aches to think my Mason views his brother like that.
With a jealousy that dominates every minute of every day that they are under the same roof.
I have to hope that one day, we will get past this, but for now, it’s just another heartbreak to add to the top of the list.
Written by, Alyssa Gilliam
My name is Alyssa and I am the proud mother of two phenomenal boys, Mason, 4 years old, and Riker, 2 years old. We also live in the cold, but beautiful Midwest. Mason was officially diagnosed just shy of him turning 2 and it didn’t come as a surprise, but it hurt nonetheless. I have spent the last 3 years as a stay at home parent. It’s a challenge to say the least. My husband is also autistic, so that adds another dash of flair to our little family.
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