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This is a hard season, although I’m not sure I’m allowed to admit that.
I’ve come to understand that there’s this stigma associated with taking a different route through or around the our conventional systems and experiences. And if we complain about it, I’ve been made to feel that our concerns aren’t valid because it’s a mess of our own making.
It’s as though we aren’t allowed to say it’s difficult because the assumption is that our choices have made this difficult. We have made this hard for ourselves.
But I disagree.
I think the experience of being human is hard no matter what you do.
Getting an education, being a teacher, being a parent, caring for your parents, keeping your children alive and healthy, working full time, working part time, working for yourself, working for someone else, looking for a job, managing your finances, dating, being married, being single, having a lot of kids, having two kids, having one kid, having no kids, making friends, setting boundaries, finding a faith community you trust, choosing where to live, holidays—I could go on forever.
It’s all tough, and it’s challenging regardless of the neurotype or ability of the humans involved.
Briefly, let’s consider the following:
Educating children is hard, no matter how you do it. Being a teacher should put you on a fast track to sainthood. If not for some of the teachers I had, I wouldn’t have survived some of the most challenging parts of my life. Homeschooling is also hard, because you have to juggle being in mom-mode and teacher-mode and countless other hats. Being a parent wrangling homework, getting your kid on and off a school bus, and communicating with teachers is hard.
Having a kid is hard. Having a kid with a disability is hard, no matter what their support needs look like and what your family chooses to do to support your child. You’re worrying about the future, about their safety, about their joy. Whether you follow the protocols and guidelines to a T or you pick and choose what you want to do for your child, you’re doing some of the hardest work in the world. No matter what you choose, it requires an immense amount of research, advocacy, and becoming something of an expert in insurance billing and diagnostic codes.
Working is hard, no matter what you’re doing or who you’re working for. You’re constantly juggling the priorities and interests of the people you work for and with. But not “working” in the traditional sense is also hard, because you ARE working—you’re just not getting paid for your efforts as you’re a caregiver, parent, friend, medic, and more. And looking for a job? HARD. Period.
Relationships are hard, no matter what they look like. Family dynamics are complex even in the most healed and whole families. Dating is chaotic even if you’ve found your “person,” and marriage is this joyful and frustrating experience that no advice can truly prepare you for. Choosing to remain single or childless almost always guarantees the uninvited opinions and feedback of others. So does deciding to have ten kids or to be one and done. We humans seem to offer a lot of unsolicited advice to one another. And that can be so, so challenging.
Honestly, there’s so much more we could reflect on. But here’s the gist of it, my family chose varieties of hard that were perplexing to many around us, but it probably would have been hard no matter what we chose.
I think this is true of every person I know. We’re choosing a path, even if it’s hard, and I hope we can all think of one another’s journeys this way.
I hope we can consider each other’s choices and struggles in such a way that we’re continually expanding our capacity for compassion, grace, and understanding.
Bits & Bobs
A new old podcast | I’ve been binge listening to the Moth lately. I love storytelling experiences like this, and after a long season of not listening to many podcast, I’m climbing all the way in. Lately, I’m especially resonating with the kind of vulnerability that can only come from getting up in front of strangers and sharing something personal. I’ve been laughing and tearing up while I drive and listen to these beautiful and ordinary human beings in these vulnerable moments. In particular, I’m still thinking about this one, this one, and this one.
Love on the Spetctrum | I laugh as I type this because I almost never actually choose what I get to watch. But in between watching Go, Diego, Go! and Blaze and the Monster Machines with my kids, I’ve been making my way through Love on the Spectrum on Netflix. I love a good laundry-folding show, and that’s how I’d categorize this one. I resisted watching for a long time because I was concerned that it would be infantilizing or ableist. But I love reality TV, and I especially love dating shows, so I decided to give it a chance. I’m still not done watching, but so far, I think the showrunner has handled it as tenderly as he could have. It’s been especially interesting to observe and contemplate the dynamics between autistic adults and their parents. It’s made me reflect about the way we parent—are we being intentional enough? Are we cultivating enough autonomy and independence? Will I be able to quiet the Indian Aunty inside of me who will just want to know every darn detail of my kids’ lives? 😂
Good grief | I’ve been feeling an acute heaviness the last few weeks, especially around missing my dad and my history of miscarriage. I’ve been listening to the audiobook of A Grief Observed by C.S. Lewis. I have a particular fondness for the intro by Madeline L’Engle, too. It’s always helpful to revisit this work - especially around hard anniversaries. A man of his time, Lewis’ writing feels so formal, even in these private journals, and yet he’s still so vulnerable.
That’s it for this week. Until next time, friends. 👋