There’s a mother I know

There’s a mother I know and it’s her birthday today. Except she’s not celebrating at all. And she’s ok with that.

This woman is the parent of a PDAer, and her son is in full burnout.

Total, devastating, painful, excruciating burnout.

He’s struggling with so much that she can’t identify the triggers anymore. Because he is so utterly overwhelmed with life, that he no longer has any coping skills left.

His threat response is permanently activated. He is unable to tolerate even the smallest of things, and she doesn’t know what to do anymore.

His distressed behaviour is breaking her heart. She *knows* that none of it is his fault. She has no blame in her heart for him.

All she wants to do is what’s best for her boy. Yet she feels guilty that she can’t take away his pain.

She is desperate to alleviate his suffering as she knows that, no matter how traumatising this is for her, it’s infinitely more traumatic for her little boy. She knows he doesn’t want to be like this.

She doesn’t want people to wish her happy birthday, she doesn’t want presents or messages asking her if she’s had a good day. She just needs to focus on her son and getting through the day.

She’s not being a martyr, or drowning in self pity – although she’s only human and nobody should judge her if that was the case.

She is firmly focussed and dedicated towards making her son’s life better.

She’s asked for help and support from services, including CAMHS, to try and help her son come out from this awful dark cloud in which he is living. Today, finally, she actually did receive some help.

But it’s been a long time coming. Too damn long. And this boy, his mum, his brother and dad are all living in a permanent state of worry, uncertainty and fear.

All of them. But at the heart of it is a small boy who’s confused, unhappy, desperately sad and afraid.

But thank goodness he’s got his mum. Because she is incredible.

She hasn’t given up. She isn’t resentful. She *knows* her son can’t help it.

She’s not ‘superwoman’, or especially resilient. She’s not special. She is just a woman, just a mother. She is giving unconditional love, just like parents are supposed to.

But she is being a mother in an exceptionally challenging set of circumstances.

My heart goes out – right out – to this mother.

Because I’ve been there. And I know so many of you have too.

Sometimes I look back and wonder how I’m still standing. But somehow, I am. And like this mother, I’m not special either.

What we have in common are two things: unconditional acceptance of our child, and the unrelenting desire to make their life better, no matter what it costs.

So I’m not going to say happy birthday to you, because I know that’s the last thing on your mind.

I’m just going to say that I see you. I know what you’re going through, and things won’t always be like this. They will get better. Please believe me. You’re not, and never will be, alone in this.