The Age of Corona. I hear that and it sounds kind of cool, like Age of Aquarius. Or maybe memories of time spent with friends drinking beer and dancing. “The Age of Corona” does not bring to my mind what it has actually been like. The reality. Or as I have heard more than a thousand times — “the new normal” (how is this past year associated with anything normal whatsoever?). Everyone has had to change the way they live, which is challenging enough, but I think we have been forced to change the way we see and experience the world. This is a new reality that was completely unexpected. CHANGES.
Changes, especially unexpected, unpredictable, and frightening ones are exceedingly difficult for a young person to cope with. Throw in Asperger’s, ADHD, being 17 years old, and a dash of hormones (which all describe my daughter’s world) and it is a perfect storm. She has not wanted to see, feel, or accept the new reality. I get that — especially since she FEELS everything and it’s hard for her process it all. She’s like a fine-tuned instrument and while that makes her wonderfully unique it can also leave her quite vulnerable. Her sensitivities are a blessing and a curse. This ever-changing reality we’ve had has been so overwhelming for even the ‘toughest’ of us. Everyday seems to have some new insane twist. I am a survivor and can handle a lot but it gets to a point sometimes that I won’t read the news just to keep my sanity. I say I can handle a lot, but one thing I am not able to handle at all is watching my daughter suffer. And suffer she has. I think I have skirted close to losing her. And that is one reality I cannot accept. It feels like I have tried every way to support her — from medication to therapy to constant school adjustments. She has an IEP in school and the team is mostly understanding — but their concern is mostly about her not losing learning. I just do not want to lose my daughter. I’ve had constant contact with the school because she could not Zoom, could not handle school the way it now functioned (the way it looked and felt different) so she finally ended up with homebound instruction.
For now, my daughter hides in her drawings and I miss her. I often ache, imagining what she must be going through inside. I am awoken at 2:00 am because she has had a panic attack and I just do not know what to say that hasn’t been said. I ask if she wants a hug (which she usually does not) and she says yes.
This is reality in our home.
She is in her cocoon and does not want to come out until this is over. I pray, I fret, I cry, I make calls, send emails, and I spend a lot of time asking questions. Do I pull her out of the cocoon? Will that damage her? Do I wait with bated breath and hope she will emerge scarred and beautiful? Do I do more, or less? Biggest question: Am I failing as a parent…?
