Anger is powerful emotion. It destroys and distances relationships; secludes and isolates people. I see it flicker in my son’s eyes like a flame. I feel it ache in my bones when it gets the better of me. These moments are the most raw between us; certainly not part of my proudest either. Broken doors, broken feelings, broken spirits. With every fierce meltdown early on in our journey I felt he was different, less himself, distanced. I have never been so mad at anything in my entire life and angry would be one of the last words anyone would use to describe me.


I am not mad at him. I have a love hate relationship with Sensory Processing Disorder. My mom always said that hate is a strong word… I think the shoe fits.


I want only to be the one that takes the anger and hurt for him as a shield, but I can’t.  Why him? Why us? Why Sensory Processing Disorder? These I may never know. The anger bubbles up at certain stretches of time and sometimes it lingers longer than others. I force myself to find the positive, focus on the good, and be a protector and guider of him and all that he is.


The fiery moments fueled by the traffic jam that is Sensory Processing Disorder are fewer and farther between now that we have worked so hard together as a family to better understand, seek support, and implement strategies. For every moment anger creeps back in, I reflect on how it has changed us, me, for the better.


I fear the next anger uprising because sometimes there is no warning. Other times it can feel like an anxious ticking time bomb; knowing it will detonate. He has made me quick on my feet and better able to spontaneously problem solve.


I hate that he never stops, seems to be run by a motor and it’s exhausting to keep up with. I love that his little legs have already pedaled their way to a two-wheeler, skated their way to hockey lessons, and run up and down a soccer field with the most energy and excitement I have ever seen.


I live in a constant heightened state of awareness of the onslaught of environmental splatter. I love that he has made me more sensitive to what is around me and how it affects others.


I thought I had a grasp on parenting out of the gate with my multiple degrees of education and child development. He has kept me humble and honest.


I hate that the sounds of everyday life sometimes require headphones and directions need to be repeated over and over again but I love the look on his face when he listens to the pure sound of a violin.


I live in a world just one meltdown away at any moment. He has taught me not to care what others may think and not to judge or criticize. You don’t know what you don’t know.


For all of the lows there are equal highs. He has taught me balance.


I hate that he has to feel different but I love that he is unique.


He is so fixated and orderly that the rigidity drives our every move but he can identify any car on the road, can give you a slue of fascinating facts about our solar system, and builds Lego creations in a flash.


I hate using my CPI training hold but I love his compression hugs.


Some days, appointments, and meetings are heavy and emotional. He gave me a better appreciation for laughter and a sense of humor. He has given me a spark and strength. I am a better teacher and advocate.


I hate the constant night waking. He has taught me to relish the simplicity of a full nights sleep.


With the rage comes his passion. He has given me a true understanding of unconditional love.


For every anger filled question of why, there is a silver lining. Sometimes I have to step back and look closely to find it, but it’s there. It is the time of year when dandelions are blooming; some see the weed and some see the wish…


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