Had a couple of Chanukah festivities over the weekend-lots of fun, lots of latkes...
One of the events had other special needs families and parents, and one mom who is a Facebook "friend" came up to me and asked me if I went to The Meeting.
So, I looked at her and originally thought that I had missed something good! The Meeting!!! What if I had missed THE meeting??!?!
But then I realized OMG, yes I did miss The Meeting on purpose-as I always do? What was it? The support group for special needs families and parents.
[Insert standard 'would rather go to Palestinian haiku circle quip in here].
I said that I don't actually go to support groups because it's not really my style, but in fact someone had invited me one time and I stupidly agreed to go because the super squishy male social worker said it would be So Great For Me and that I would really Get A Lot Out of It.
So, I trudged out one dark winter night after supper to the meeting and sat beside a bunch of other special needs parents who were mentally, physically and emotionally in much worse shape than me. Frankly, we were not on the same intellectual plane either.
Anyway, one of the women was talking about her kid and his issues and her "sharing" session quickly deteriorated into a heart wrenching wailing about how hard life was, and her son's and how things sucked and were shit, etc...
I would have prefered that the earth swallow me whole, but I just sat there and tried to compose myself.
Then it was my turn to share! Gah!
So, I said hi my name is and my kid has [insert genetic disorder here] and you've probably never heard of it, neither did I...but then I launched into solutions.
Hey, chunky mom over there who is depressed-thought about exercising?
Hey, dad and mom over there who are getting dicked around by the home care agency, have you written to your MP, MPP and copied the local newspapers about it?
Hey wailing my-life-is-shit mom, have you put your kid into a respite program?
And then I had to leave. I said it's been really great sharing, but I have to fly.
I never, ever went back, although I heard from the social worker that everyone thought I was great.
I took it as a compliment, even though to be considered great by that particular beaten-to-a-pulp crowd does not actually make me feel like a superstar.
Getting back to last night-I said to the woman, no I don't do those groups, it make me feel like shit and depressed as hell.
She looked me and said:
Well then. OK.
And she walked away.
For a minute, I thought maybe I shouldn't have said anything and kept my yap trap closed. But, I've never been totally excellent at that when something really needs to be said.
I'm not very popular with the moms in those circles.
But then again, I wouldn't want to be part of any club that would have me as a member.
Well then. OK!
I take that to mean-you are a piece of shit, bitch.
These same people would have my (normal) kids in "support groups" as well, moaning about their genetic sibling 'misfortune'. Teaching them "coping" skills and to talk about how they FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL.
My kids don't go to support groups. Period.
They have a disabled brother, and that's the end of the story. He's ours for keeps.
The idea of raising children who need outside facilitators to whine about the alleged unfairness of their lives (and to pay for that) is abhorrent to me.
I'd throw myself off a cliff if I raised such narcissists.
That is all!