Special Needs: A Disclaimer

I have been known (i.e. told by therapists and doctors) that I use humor to mask.  In reality, I use every tool in my toolbox to mask.  Masking pain, helps keep my pain at bay, or at least partially hidden.  Masking vulnerability, helps me deny that vulnerability exists, or at least keeps me from breaking down in front of strangers or at work.  Masking weakness --and being weak when I am suppose to be strong, sucks-- is sometimes the only thing I can do to prevent crumbling into chunks on the floor.  Besides, I do look really, really good in masks. 

My life has been touched by what some people in the world call special needs. I do not like the term special needs.  I have heard it too many times.  As terms go: I think it is lame; I think it is a cop out; and, I think it sucks.

What my life has really been touched by are my children.   Do the circumstances that my children live with touch me?  Oh my yes.  Have they change me?  There is no doubt.  Has that change been good?  Would I have preferred my life to have not been so touched, changed?  Well, that would then change who my children are and who they will be -- so I must say no.  On the other hand, if you had a choice to remove any pain, no matter how slight, from your loved one's life, what would you choose?  What would you sometimes, perhaps secretly, choose?

I have felt pain and heartache and hatred and love that I never thought I would have.  I am, however,  lucky beyond all measure, blessed beyond all belief, and fortunate enough to have witnessed, and continued to witness, life's miracles.

Writing about my life and, perhaps, the lives of others that I have been glimpsed, I will talk about things in a way that will offend many.   I will use bad humor, bad language and bad writing to express what is truly inexpressible.

I know there are people in this world that possess, exert and show more strength and love and courage and patience and grace in a flash of a moment as they deal with, or celebrate, what the world might perceive to be the smallest thing -- such as washing hands or an eye blink response -- than I have in a month, a year, a decade, a lifetime.  I, in no way, mean to dishonor them or be disrespectful.  They deserve acceptance, appreciation, and, perhaps, awe.  Mostly, they deserve simply to remain unjudged by those walking on this earth.

So, to any one that has in any way been touched by a child or an adult with a need the world has termed special, I hope that my words do not offend you.  To the rest of you, I really do not give a flying pig's tail hair what you may think about my views on this subject.