{Navigation Bar}

Friday, 25 August 2017

Real tears, real feelings

Real tears from Sasha at bedtime tonight. She sheds them so rarely and consequently they pull heavily on the heart strings when they come.



At first, the tears were about a red heart-shaped stress toy which we'd bought on our recent holiday in Blackpool. She had somehow made a small split in it a week or so ago, and then tonight she just couldn't stop herself from pulling it into pieces. So then she was upset because she knew we couldn't go back and get another one, and she'd really loved it. The temptation to fiddle is always strong though, and many things get destroyed unintentionally in our house. I asked whether she enjoyed tearing it apart or whether she knew even as she did it that it was a bad thing to be doing, but I think it's such an unconscious sensory need that she couldn't explain.

We managed to move on from that though and she began to tell me about a dream she'd had last night. It involved her old school, and her old classroom, and her meeting three new children who were starting there. 

At this point, I made the mistake of asking her if maybe that meant she would like to try going back into Year 6 in her old school in September after all. Foolish of me, it was late and no great time for a discussion, but I guess the pressure is getting to me. The pressure of knowing that the dreaded back to school date is fast approaching, and that answers will be wanted again about why she is unable to attend. I strangely half hope that she somehow might change her mind, that she might be willing to give it another go. In my heart though, I know that's not likely to happen. The reasons it hasn't worked are still there; she needs something else.

The tears flowed again as she admitted 'yes, I do miss it, but I know I had no friends there. And it's the forcing of work which I just can't cope with.' She carried on with 'on the outside it might seem OK but on the inside it's just not good for me.'

Then, as the tears carried on and I tried to calm her, she added 'I've been to see my dream school once and I really hope that I can go back again for a second time.'

How do I explain to her that the decision over that school is totally out of my hands? Sadly, it's in the hands of a panel of complete strangers who will just read the paperwork placed in front of them and make a decision without really knowing what that opportunity could do for our little girl. More importantly, without understanding what impact a negative response would have now on her already fragile mental health.

We are already in a tricky situation; I realised today that I have a huge challenge ahead of me as our youngest girl's peers return to their classroom. It is likely to be several weeks, if not months, before anything is now decided for Sasha, and in the meantime I can't put all my energy into making learning at home fun, as that could put any new school at a disadvantage from the outset. So for now it's a waiting game, and a boring one at that.

This is the kind of worry that many parents of children with special needs go through. How do we make it better, for us and for them?

Spectrum Sunday


Email Me Subscribe Bloglovin Twitter Facebook Google Plus Pinterest Instagram YouTube

No comments:

Post a Comment

Go on, leave me a message, make my day!

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.

{Linkwithin}

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...