Sometimes you just have to let things go. Eight simple words that speak volumes. The years have taught me so much and with age I’ve learned to understand. It’s easier now to let things go than it was in the beginning. Twenty-something years ago I was lost. I was engulfed by so many emotions that I couldn’t make sense of at the time. I was young, naive, scared, lonely, unsure, confused, envious, guilt-ridden and remorseful. I worried about what everyone around me was thinking. I cared too much about what others perceived and I let those feelings override common sense. The voices in my head controlled me and I allowed guilt and shame to get too comfortable. But, I’ve learned now, that sometimes….. you just have to let things go.

But, letting go isn’t as easy as it sounds. In fact, everyday I have to remind myself to, “Just let go.” I think that’s what makes it hard for so many people who are struggling through hardships in their lives. They hear from every direction that they should move on, let go of the past and forge ahead. They innocently believe they have to accomplish letting go all at once in order to be happy. But, I’ve realized that letting go is more than just a one-time cleansing of the soul, it’s actually a daily task of acknowledging, grieving and understanding. Letting go, for me, is something I allow myself time for each and every day.

There are moments I think about when Boy met Girl all those years ago and the innocent dreams they had when they first started out. Every now and then I wonder what things would have been like if we had taken a different path. But, no matter where those thoughts take me, I remember to let them go. I’m reminded of the things that Boy and I have been through and how our love has been strengthened.  When I think about that hot July day that Baby Girl came into our lives, I stop and recall the laughter Boy and I experienced with our baby before things changed. And, when images of those not so pleasant years appear in my mind, I let them go and remind myself that we survived. We survived the seizures, the wild behaviors, the endless nights of crying, the not knowing and, even, the knowing. One deep breath and I let them go and I remind myself how much we’ve changed for the better because of all of those difficult moments we survived.

When someone reminds me that I was Chosen by God to be her mother, I simply smile. My thoughts wander to that cynical place each and every time. I continue to struggle accepting that I was picked to have a child with special needs. Trying to understand that concept led to so much internal conflict all those years ago.  Instead of a blessing, I felt I was being punished. I created a situation for myself that involved such guilt and shame over something that I must have done that displeased God. It was only after years of beating myself up inside, that I finally realized that I just had to let it go. I’m not chosen, nor am I being punished. The answers will never come and the reasons still aren’t clear but I’m in a better place. “The soul knows what to do to heal itself; the challenge is to silence the mind.” (Caroline Miss). My soul knew that, for now, I just had to let go.

There are moments when I remember that journal. That journal was my only friend during some of my most difficult days and nights. That journal was the only place I felt safe, the only place I felt that I wan’t being judged by others around me. The only place I could ‘say’ the words and thoughts I was feeling. I remember the envy and guilt and the places those emotions took me. The memories of wanting what others had and I didn’t still haunt me. Even now, I may quickly glance over at the car next to me on my morning drive and catch a glimpse of a young girl about 25, on her way to work, putting on her make-up or talking on her cell phone and I envy her. I can’t help but think about what should have been. Then the tears pool up in the corners of my eyes and the lump swells in my throat. I put my sunglasses on, turn the radio up and let the tears fall; wiping them away as I pull into my parking spot.

Unfortunately, I’m reminded daily of the Truth and that horrible word that stopped me dead in my tracks 18 years ago. Morning, noon and night I’m reminded of her deficits, not delays. There’s no way to escape any of those feelings except to acknowledge them. I stop and stare at her sometimes, recalling something funny she may have said or how she put her arm around me and told me she loved me and I feel the guilt each and every time. The guilt and shame of wanting her to be different. Again, the tears pool up and I grieve. There’s no end to the grieving process when you’re a parent of a child with special needs. The grieving process becomes a cycle and once you think you’ve finally accepted things, you’re thrown back into that infinite loop. Every day I’m witness to how much she knows and how much she yearns to be like everyone else. It’s never easy watching someone you love want something you can’t ever give them. But, once again, I simply have to let it go.  I have to put my trust in the belief that her life will be happy and the people in it will continue to love and support her.

Moments often arise when I think about Baby Boy and Baby Girl. I worry that the attention and love from me wasn’t enough and for that I feel sorrow. As siblings, they were witness to so many things within our home because of their older sister.  They were called upon to help and they were inadvertently expected to grow up faster than their peers and for that I cry.  I struggled for so long with the fact that SHE wasn’t like THEM. I could never truly enjoy their accomplishments because I always lamented for what she would never have and that tore me up inside; honor roll, graduations, girlfriends, boyfriends, driving, college, jobs and friendships, just to name a few.  But, then, after the tears fall, I sit in amazement of them and the people they’ve become BECAUSE of their sister. Their compassion, understanding and patience console me and I realize that I must have given them enough. Despite everything, it must have been enough.

When I look over and see an older couple with their adult child with a disability at a store or restaurant, I can’t keep the image of Boy and I twenty years from now caring for our oldest child the same way. I realize that someday the best and safest option may be for her to live with us. Still, I can’t help but feel such sorrow. I cry for those families and I cry for the future. There are currently 4.9 million citizens with developmental disabilities in our country and only 25% of them are receiving state developmental services. That means 75% of them are depending on their families for their daily life activities, safety and security, socialization, community opportunities and health (US Census 2013. Braddock et al, State of the State 2013). Each and every day I let that go. I remind myself that we’ve come a long way since the days of institutions when parents were made to think that was their only option. Despite my sadness about the future, I’m encouraged that things will continue to change for the better for individuals with disabilities and their families and I am thankful for the amazing human beings giving so much of their lives to helping adults with disabilities and their families.

The happy moments in my life make it easier to let go. There have been many voices in my head telling me things, but thankfully, the loudest voice has been the one telling me to smile, be positive and laugh. I’m not exactly sure where that little voice came from and how it became the loudest, but that’s what truly saves me each and every day. In all my years of tying knots and searching for “the truth,” I would always come across a saying or proverb that resonated something within me. “A thousand candles can be lit from the light of just one and the life of that candle will never be shorted. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” (Buddha). So, in a sense, if I want to live in a world where people accept my daughter for being different, I have to keep my candle lit so they can see that happiness can survive absolutely anything. I often repeat those proverbs and sayings over and over in my mind to keep those ‘other’ thoughts from turning up their volume. Letting go doesn’t come easy but nothing worth it ever does. Finding yourself is a journey best begun with an empty suitcase.

Each day I find myself in that place, 

Doubting, questioning, trying to erase, 

Those thoughts and feelings that bring me down, 

Twisting and turning my spirit around.

Accepting those feelings but never for long;

Allowing those tears to swell up and fall.

And then a deep breathe and one sigh of woe, 

I tell myself softly to just let go. 

Just let go……open your eyes,

Just let go……let your beauty rise.

Just let go……live in the light;

Just let go….know it’s alright.

Just let go…..feel the peace of today; 

Just let go…..let the guilt float away.