Yesterday was not a good day. It would be easy to say that Lindsey had turned into a Bridezilla, but that would not be accurate. She’s gracious about the wedding plans, agreeable, excited.
However, change is not compatible with my daughter’s disability, and in the last two months—even more so in the last few weeks–significant disruptions have eroded her normal schedule. In high school, as long as Lindsey’s classes took place as planned, she operated with little stress. Throw in a planned or unplanned assembly and her reaction: internal chaos that turned into an external meltdown.
I know this truth, but am still blindsided whenever a breakdown occurs. With packing and moving from her apartment, wedding decisions, the idea of living with another person, honeymoon discussions, Lindsey frets and worries and frets some more. In the Peanuts comic strip, a cloud of dust followed Pig Pen around. In Lindsey’s case, a thick cloud of worry constantly surrounds my daughter. It travels with her everywhere. When this fret and worry escalates to the point of explosion, my nice, sweet daughter turns into a raging, cursing, fists batting the air, ready to battle thirty-two-year-old-toddler. Most people never see this Lindsey. But I can assure you, although the pleasant and unpleasant Lindsey images do not jibe, they do exist.
My daughter will eventually call and apologize. Her voice will sound meek, embarrassed, explaining calmly why she yelled profanities, why she shook her fists, why she lost control. It will make little sense. Of course I will forgive her. But yesterday, during the forty-eight excruciating minute drive back to Silverton–where I planned to drop my daughter off at home—I gripped the steering wheel so tight, my knuckles lost all their color. Normally, my insides turn volcanic, rumbling and churning, hoping not to explode. Yet yesterday, that didn’t happen. While Lindsey yelled verbal insults, I traveled elsewhere in my mind, to a video where she talked about her fiancé’ and his baby pictures, her baby pictures, beauty, and love. This memory blocked out much of the ugliness in our car.
This video is the side of my daughter that gets me through the rough times.
My first book, Loving Lindsey: Raising a Daughter with Special Needs will be out September 26, 2017. If you would like to learn more, click here.
