First Day

Today is the first day of school. Today is the day that parents pack their child’s lunch with handwritten notes on the napkins, and take those adorable pictures by the front door just before they leave. You know the ones…”it’s my first day of grade ___ and I want to be an astronaut when I grow up”. Backpacks are filled with new pencil crayons and clothing has been labelled with cute, personalized tags (although you can be sure that at least one jacket will go missing during the school year). Parents watch their children walk onto the bus, waving goodbye with tears in their eyes.

Today is the first day of school.

Not for Jason, though.

Today should be Jason’s first day of grade 1. Except…we haven’t even done kindergarten yet.

My Facebook and Instagram feeds are inundated with back-to-school photos. I scroll through almost numbly as my son works his way through a meltdown that started because he couldn’t pee on command. I don’t give into these dark and depressed feelings very often anymore…but today it is almost impossible not to.

I have discovered that sorting through my emotions as a special needs parent is confusing. I feel jealousy. I want….CRAVE….that excited first day of school moment with my son that all my friends are having. I want to be able to ask my son what he wants to be when he grows up, and have him understand what I am asking.

I feel sadness. I’m sad that Jason doesn’t feel the excitement of meeting new friends, or the anxiety of being without me for the day. Mostly, I feel sad because he doesn’t even understand what a first day of school is.

I feel lonely. I see my friends post their pictures and discuss their plans for the day, and I realize that this is a world I am not a part of. I sit to the side and watch it all go down, struggling between happiness for them, and wanting someone to come over and tell me it’s going to be ok. I want you to see me. Ask me how I am doing. Ask me if I want to talk. But I also want you to leave me alone because I don’t want you to know I am struggling.

I feel shame. This is a big one. There is so much selfishness in my emotions, and I wish I could just be happy and content always. I don’t wish for Jason to be different…..but maybe I wish for a few things to be different. I feel ashamed of the jealousy I feel when looking at my Facebook feed, because I should be feeling happiness for what they have, not resentment. I feel shame for the intense need to put my thoughts into words for others to read.

So, maybe I just avoid my social media for today. I will keep my head down, focus on my family, and let these emotions wash through me and over me until I am strong enough to rise above them. Ours may be a bit different, but Jason will have his first day soon.