This is one of those tricky posts. The sort that is difficult to write, because you don’t know if you are capable of writing it without sounding like a big whiner, yet you know that if you don’t write it, it’ll just spill out at some point anyway. And it will probably be even less pretty.
It’s been a rough couple of days.
It’s not that it happened that is surprising to me, but the fact that, just Friday, I left the AAGC conference full of hope and spitfire, more aware of, and committed to, my mission to advocate for our gifted children than ever. I rode that wave all weekend.
Then: crash and burn.
That can be a problem with conferences, if re-entry is not properly managed. At some point, when you return from orbit, you have to walk. I bet it feels so weird, after months of floating around without gravity, to then put weight on your own legs again.
Enter Monday, when my parenting legs were put to the test. I blew it and fell over. Faceplant. All that I’d thought I had absorbed on Friday, when put to the test, was shoved aside for the same old habits that I left the house with on Friday morning.
Yesterday, I was too busy to dwell on it, but today, I was faced with frustration and discouragement. I pulled my gifted/intensity/anxiety/anything/everything books down off the shelf this morning, after noting to myself that since I’ve yet to master reading by osmosis, they were doing no one any good collecting dust.
Randy and I found some things to try and see how, or if, they help. But like so many things, it’s trial and error.
There are a bajillion-and-one things I could say about the awesomeness of watching your gifted child grow, learn and explore (if someone actually took the time to ask… trust me – I’m happy to state them, even if no one does). Yet, this journey can feel lonely at times. It’s when I think on that, that I’m reminded that others need to see and hear my hopefulness, encouragement and spitfire too. It’s the reason that Randy and I expanded this blog to include this topic, and why we have started a local support group for parents of gifted children.
And my fire is stoked again.
I had a good 36 hours of the doldrums (and feeling a touch sorry for myself), but as this day has ended, and I’ve been able to put things in perspective, I will not let fear, discouragement or frustration take over and keep me from advocating for my children, or lending my voice to do the same for other parents and children who find themselves on this same journey. Ups and downs come with the territory.
This is the path I’m on and I’m happy to hold the hands of others, when they need it.