letting go

it's been a week- a busy week- and a very up and down zoe week.
sunday was horrible. monday was really good, and on and on.
i've been thinking about separation and compartmentalizing. about the ability to not be so effected- to not loose myself in zoe's world. because i do this. i see my mood follow hers- i let her dis- ease cause me dis-ease. it's not good for me. it's not good for her.

mike isn't like this. he is able to maintain himself separately from her. where as i let it eat me up. when i see her struggling internally and externally - i can feel my face grow heavy and lined and old- i start to slowly slide down into that pit and i end up feeling so sorry for myself and for her and for our family. the weird thing is that i don't do this with the boys. granted, they don't have the same level of intensity. but still- i'm able to not take it personally, to have what feels like, an appropriate distance from their drama. is it because they're boys? because they seem like they'll "do fine" in the world, and as they age and mature they'll appropriately separate from me? is because with zoe i feel guilt? or because my world right now is just so physically entwined in hers?

mike and i talked about it on sunday night late- in the dark- with the windows open, in the quiet- except for the tree frogs churping. we realized it's related to my fear of abandoning her with herself and her emotions. and i realized that this is messed up. she needs to be able to live her own life with out her mother's emotions wrapped up in hers. she needs to have her own emotional life- she needs to perhaps, even, dare i write it, feel a bit of abandon- in order to self identify- to find herself- to grow.
i need to let her go.
at least a little.
i need to let her be- with her sticky thoughts- or even her sadness about having nvld- and i need her to know that i'm ok with her as she is- not because i say that but because i live that.

when i was a little girl- i had two great fears: being "called" to the mission field- to live among bugs and tribal people who spoke no known language; and being the parent of a special needs child. i know- i'm weird- who thinks of those things? who worries about them when they're 8 years old? i did. and so to prepare, just in case, i read books about missionaries and special kids. and i didn't even like to read. i remember reading about "lovey" some girl who was probably autistic- and with lots of love and therapy- began to come out of her world and into everyone elses. what was i so afraid of? what was it that seemed so scarey to me about raising a child with differences?

when she was little, i made up a song for her:
oh zoe, my zoe i love you so much may you always be free
oh zoe, my zoe if you weren't so much you- i would never know me

i think i somehow knew that i would have a child like zoe-
someone who would come out of her world and help me come out of mine-
someone who would teach me- even by accident- to see value differently. to learn patience. to understand God more clearly. i can let her go, because He never will.