Friend, Please Allow Me to Feel and Worry

Friend, parent, partner, even a stranger on Facebook…

I have a request for you.

It’s going to sound really simple to you. Maybe even silly. But here goes.

Please allow me to feel everything when it comes to my child’s diagnosis.

Let me feel all the feelings and worry about all the worries, no matter how irrational or ridiculous they sound to you.

Please, pretty please, don’t try to silence me. Or rush me along in the process.

Please don’t make me feel guilty for feeling or acting a certain way. Or ignore my feelings because opening up to you is a vital part of the healing process.

Please don’t choose this very moment, my moment of vulnerability, to encourage me to move on. Bring that up another time. Right now, let me feel and vent out loud.

Please don’t downplay my worries either by telling me that someone else has it worse. Because by not validating them you are telling me that they don’t matter.

But most importantly, please don’t ask me to mask my feelings to make you feel comfortable. Let me speak our truth. Our reality. Because I need to be honest with myself for once. And I need you just to listen.

Quite simply, there are days when these feelings and worries need to come out.

They are bigger than me.

Please know that my worries and feelings aren’t always going to be pretty. They may even make you feel uncomfortable.

My world is different than yours. We can both admit that. And I know you may not understand. I would never fault you for that.

But if I come to you, it’s because I trust you and love you. And I just need you to listen.

Please, just let me be real.

Let me worry about the irrational things. Things that may not happen for 50 years. Things that may never happen at all.

Let me worry about who will care for my child after I’m dead. And if his siblings will care for him.

Let me worry about if he will be able to go to my funeral or understand if I’m dead and not coming back or even crazier yet, let me worry and wonder if anyone will go to his funeral. Because that’s what mom’s worry about when they have babies who may never speak or make a friend or live independently.

Let me angst over the possibility of never having grandchildren or being the mother of the groom. While you may think these things are ridiculous, I still feel them.

Let me think about my own retirement and wonder if my child will be able to come with me to senior living.

Let me worry about him entering a nursing home and if the nurses will understand severe, nonverbal autism.

This may all sound ridiculous. Trust me, I know. But I can’t stop it.

So, please mom, friend, husband, allow me to be scared. Allow me to picture today, tomorrow and forever.

Allow me to be angry sometimes. And confused. And defeated. Because it’s helping me heal. It’s helping me move to acceptance.

By acknowledging reality, and future possibilities, I am growing with all of this.

I also want to give you permission for something too. If for some reason, you think I am staying in this place of worry, sadness and anger to long, please tell me. Because maybe I’m not seeing it.

And dwelling here isn’t healthy either.

So friend, mom, dad, stranger on Facebook…thank you for allowing me to heal. And giving me grace while I fix the parts that need healing.

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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.