Navigating the Rapids
I have been a homeschool mom for eighteen years now—almost nineteen. It’s my job to teach my children what they need to know: reading, writing, math, their place in the world, who God is, how to cook, and how to clean a toilet. And, you know, the rest of it. Sounds easy, right? I mean, you have their whole childhood to educate them.
It’s not easy. Anyone can tell you that. Even with neurotypical children, it’s not easy. With children struggling with autism and mental illness, depression and PANS, it’s mind-boggling.
I’m struggling to find the balance between pushing them and letting them be. I pushed my older children. I made them do school even when they felt awful. Even when they sobbed. Even when they hid under a pile of blankets shaking because I was making them do math, or writing, or whatever it was.
I think I was too hard on them.
Now, the pendulum has swung the other direction. My younger children are suffering now, both from mental health issues and, like most kids their age, from school itself. I’ve been easy on them, letting them rest and do the things that help them feel better.
I think I’m too lenient.
Finding the balance between pushing too hard and not pushing hard enough is difficult. Finding that balance among the shifting sands of mental illness seems impossible. Sometimes a little push will encourage one of my children to work harder, to achieve, to reach for a goal. Sometimes a little push will push them right off a cliff. Those “sometimes” can happen on the same day. And not just every day. Every hour. You wake up to a child who is so depressed they can barely open their eyes and look at you. Three hours later they’re bouncing off the walls, grinning about some plan they have or something a friend texted them. It’s jarring. It’s nonsensical. It’s a roller coaster of emotions hurtling through the house, slamming into everyone and affecting everyone’s mood. And it’s even more complex when you have more than one child with a mental health condition.
Breathe.
Stepping back, looking back in on my crazy life, I can see more than just the turbulent waters and shifting sands. I can take a minute to count my blessings. No one is angry or confrontational. My children are interesting, colorful, intelligent people. No one would ever call any of them bland. They’re kind. They’re smart. They’re funny—and they’re sick.
When I’m longing for tranquil waters and predictable moods and behaviors, I have to keep in mind that a placid sea isn’t what God gave me. He gave me a canoe and a paddle and roaring rapids. It’s my job to navigate, to shift on the fly, to hang on, steering for dear life and drenched with whatever ricochets back in my face, pulling them toward maturity, toward integrity, toward God.
Are you a Christian parenting an individual with mental illness? Join the Eleventh Willow private Facebook support group to meet other parents who understand. Let’s help each other walk this path.
Image by PublicDomainPictures from Pixabay