September 24, 2011

The small print

Julie asked me a question tonight as we walked through the grocery store.

"Am I broken?"

We discussed it for a while amongst the Chef Boyardee and the Cap'n Crunch, and we concluded that yes, she was broken. We are a broken family, in some ways that are obvious and others less so. She is broken, and I am broken, and Schuyler is broken. We are like a good deal made ordinary by all the faults exposed in the small print. We go through the world operating with stopgap repairs, and we fuck up a lot, but we never stop. And for that, I am proud of us, fiercely so.

Parents break a little when they raise kids who are different or who present big challenges. Some of that breaking is bad, leaving us in an even less ideal position to take on those challenges. But I think some of it is for the best, too. We break some of the neurotypical narratives, we break some of the ridiculous expectations that we might otherwise mistake for Very Important Things, and we shatter the rules that don't make sense for us. We learn to break some of the parts that give a damn about what you think of us. Sometimes it is in the breaking that the solutions are hiding.

Julie and I keep moving forward, through the stumbles and the moments of doubt and all of it, and we do so with our own demons, ones that we brought to the table long before Schuyler was ever born. And sometimes the best thing we can do is make sure that we don't both show up for parenting duty with that haunted look at the same time. Sometimes that really is the essence of good parenting. Knowing when to tag out. Knowing when we simply can't tag out, so we simply don't.

In those moments of doubt, it is almost always Schuyler who shows us the way out. She holds a positive spark, and she sees when we need that spark. She always seems to see it. And if there is one thing we all share, the limping members of this broken tribe, it is an absolutely unbroken love, and an unwavering commitment to protect each other, and grow each other. We don't get it right all the time; sometimes we (mostly I) get it astonishingly wrong. But we never stop, and we never lose sight of it.

If, in the past weeks or months or years, you have determined that I am a mostly imperfect father or advocate or whatever, I can only confess that it's true. If you look at my family and see the cracks, the spackled-over holes and the duct tape holding some parts of it together, I can only apologize for the shabbiness of our presentation.

But if you could just see that love, and how sometimes it brings joy and sometimes it hurts, but it always burns, painfully and breathtakingly, and never flickers, then I would hope that you could recognize that our very broken machine runs because its engine is true, and the rest is just stuff.

26 comments:

Julia Roberts said...

Yes. I see it.

Twilson9608 said...

I love this post!

Julia O'C said...

Beautiful. Breathtakingly so.

Heather said...

Wow. If only I could have said the same words, half as eloquently, with the same realness, and beauty, then maybe, just maybe, those outside this life that has become ours, maybe they would understand.

Thank you for this. And yes, I see it with absolute crystal clarity.

Elizabeth said...

Heather said it the way I'd say it. You've brought tears to my eyes -- but I see through them quite clearly.

Sophie said...

I really love this post. I can relate to it so much; as the parent of a child with disabilities and as a bereaved parent. I have a foot in both worlds, though in many ways they are very similar. Life is different, priorities are different. I have used the word "broken" to describe my famuly as well. We are all okay, but we will never be 'whole', there is always someone or something missing; whether it is a person, or just that ease with which other people seem to breeze through life...

Unknown said...

I love this.

I've been broken long before I had children....since I was a child myself.

My family is broken in many ways, but we're a family. When our breaks heal they make us stronger.

Kim Wombles said...

I have to echo the others. Beautiful and real and beyond that, the heart of what really matters.

KAL said...

So beautiful, so true. We are all imperfect beings. I've watched this week, silently, and had my ideas and perspectives challenged and changed as a parent to two children with special needs. I think what I'm trying to say, is that no matter how difficult it was, you've probably touched more silent readers than you know.

And the love? The love is apparent to anyone who reads here.

farmwifetwo said...

I did post a comment on Emily's blog post. Another friend said I got "dogpiled" to use her word. The only person I care if they saw it or not was you. Welcome to autism-land online... it hasn't improved in the 6yrs I've been online, it never will. I would never have read TPGTA had she not told me what was going on.

We never use the word autism in this house unless it involves school, services, Dr's appts. But day to day... it's normal around here with a side of autism from 2 tweens on either end of the spectrum. Your house seems to run the same and personally, it's the best we can do. We fight for what they need, what is right... and home is simply "home". Where we hang out with our "normal". Where we are safe, loved and happy.

That's all that matters.

Mary said...

Beautiful

Helena Sue said...

I have a question totally off-topic from your post: as lovely as sweet Schuyler looks with her hair blonde, why not let her dye it funky again if she wants to? Let her individuality shine! Besides, the purple looks super cute, and vegetable-based 6-week dyes never hurt anybody. ;)

Robert Hudson said...

We've let her have pink and purple hair in the past, and were going to do so again. She kept it natural for the summer so that she can swim, and now that school has started, we're looking into doing some crazy color highlights. I think we' going to actually have Julie's hairdresser do it this time rather than the amateur hour that we've done in the past. Schuyler wants something that will actually last this time.

Helena Sue said...

Yay! I'm glad the fun colors are coming back. There's nothing like a little non-conformist self-expression for a tween.

BethRD said...

I read this and immediately thought of you and Schuyler for obvious reasons, but especially in the context of this particular post:

http://cadhla.livejournal.com/1722206.html

Single Mom Seeking said...

Thank you for your honest writing. Add me to the teary crowd. Glad I came back for an overdue visit.

sharon Morris said...

I'm rarely moved to tears by things I read these days, being of broken stock myself. But this did it. Wishing you and your beautiful family all the best.

Brandy Davis said...

Thank you so much for sharing this. I can’t seem to stop crying now. Your words touched on exactly how I feel right now. I hate to admit it but the word “broken” comes to my mind when I think about my family and our baby. I feel so much like we are broken and trying so hard to put the pieces back together the best we can.

Kim in Alaska said...

i never got that note from schuyler, i was really looking forward to it.

ak kim

Robert Hudson said...

I'll have her send another one today.

Morgan said...

I have to say, I am quite put off of your blog by your reaction to the dialogues. Not even what you've said--you have a right to your opinion, though I personally don't agree, and I thought you certainly expressed yourself well. But the way you've been acting like a five year old throwing a tantrum on twitter, calling out people who seem to only be expressing their legitimate feelings about your actions, that doesn't seem appropriate. No one is painting you as a mustache twirling villain except you; people have a right to say how they feel, and they have their own right to feel disappointed. You also seem to have a right to be upset with them, but they aren't attacking you, it doesn't seem malicious--but you're painting it in a very deliberate, childish way to people on twitter, when it honestly does not read that way to me.

I'm not expecting this to be approved as a comment or anything--just wasn't sure how else to let you know this. I thought that your behavior during the actual dialogues last week wasn't aberrant or anything--just the way you've responded to these people who don't seem to bear you any really negative feelings.

Robert Hudson said...

1) You are certainly entitled to your opinion, but frankly, saying that other people are allowed to express their opinions largely through lying and character assassination but for me, it's inappropriate? Your own particular biases are showing like a bad case of plumber's butt.

2) You just had to make a big public statement here because you didn't know how else to let me known how you felt? Cute, and not at all passive-aggressive. I should add an email link to this blog, like maybe over on the right sidebar. Oh, wait, there it is.

Miz Kizzle said...

Why did Julie ask you if she is broken? It seems like the sort of thing one determines for oneself. Maybe she wanted reassurance that yes, life sucks donkeys sometimes, but you love her and you'll pull through? Does depression play a part in it?

Elisabeth said...

Do you and Julie know the Leonard Cohen song "Anthem," the part that goes,

"Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack, a crack in everything
That's how the light gets in."

Your post about being broken made me think of this.

Usethebrains Godgiveyou said...

Oh, sorry...now I get the tweet about Shuylers broken brain. I have one, too!

Sorry...bowing out now....Have a good one!

Anonymous said...

I can understand your use of the word broken in this context. I sometimes feel it myself. Like you, I write to self-evaluate my feelings and try to understand and accept what I'm going through. Keep writing, and hopefully it helps you feel less broken.