Perspective...

I have been thinking a lot about this lately.   Our perspectives are each incredibly unique.  They are created, formed, and molded by our families, our experiences, our mentors, our education, our belief system, our religion, and our hopes for the future just to name a few.  Not to mention by what I so eloquently refer to as, "the stuff that comes with us."    I have caught myself lately getting very frustrated with others for not seeing things from my perspective or for buying into what I consider to be ludicrous ideals and philosophies.  Ideals that, from my standpoint, are no more viable than a 2-legged stool.  Yet they hold to theirs as vehemently as I hold to mine.  I, of course, believe mine to be 'right', but interestingly enough, so do they.  Go figure :)

I tend to be pretty private about some aspects of my life, which I assume to be pretty typical of most of us.  One of those aspects has to do with some of the things my children deal with.  I do, however, oscillate between wanting to protect that most vulnerable part of themselves, and wanting to help and empower other parents who have had similar experiences as I have had.  Today I am going to tip more toward the latter, because maybe someone out there has felt like I have these past few years as I have struggled to deal with these issues.

These guarded parts of my life are difficult for me to talk about, however, because everyone has a perspective of what worked for them.  Please understand this is not a plea for someone out there to fix my kids.  I am merely sharing my experience.  

Three of my children have diagnosed AdHd of varying levels and types.  I have suspicions since it is likely genetic, that more, if not all of my children also have it, but time will tell.  One of my children has diagnosed severe GAD (Generalized Anxiety Disorder), OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder), and is being watched for Bipolar II which typically isn't diagnosed until post-adolescence.  Those three children have been in therapy, and one currently receives medication for anxiety and depression.

Last night while visiting with a friend, the subject came up.  As is very typical when I do tell people (and I didn't even tell her everything), the reaction came, "Oh I don't believe that!  Are you sure?  Don't you think that is just normal kid behavior?"  Part of me wanted to laugh and say, No, I'm not sure, but I have spent more than $_______, sought out the best doctors I know to be out there, and prayed my very hardest to try to BE sure!  Another part of me wanted to cry for having such a difficult part of my life and experience as a mother dismissed so easily by someone who's opinion I value.  But instead, I sat and listened, and then did my best to explain why we were sure.  I could tell she wasn't convinced.  In her mind  I felt, I was now one of "those" moms.  

As I was licking my wounds later that night, it came to me that my revelation was not my friend's revelation. She wasn't being mean, or cruel or demeaning...quite the opposite.  Her perspective and experience as a mother helped create her reaction.  Who knows what kinds of experiences had led her to that point.  Perhaps those experiences had taught her to be wary of doctors trying to pigeon children into diagnoses that don't always ring true.  In any case, I realized that instead of being hurt by this barrage of reactions from people like my friend, I need to try to learn from the unspoken lessons they teach me about their perspective, and the experience and wisdom that has shaped their unique position.

It is hard to not be understood.  It is hard to not be validated, especially on something that you are so emotionally invested in.  It's hard to feel alone.  In the beginning before I realized the scope of what my children were dealing with, I had lots of opinions, and in an effort to help other moms like me, I wanted to share.  I wanted to know other people agreed with me and the choices I was making for my children.  But most didn't.  Most couldn't.  I don't believe you can truly understand or empathize most things unless you have experienced them.  And mental illness looks and acts so different in each individual, that it only stands to reason that the way we each handle it would be different too.  And that is okay...good, even.   That being said, I have been very blessed with a treasured few who do understand, and who have walked this road with their own children and experience.  On one of those hard days when it felt like no one on the planet got it, one of those people called out of the blue to chat.  I felt so grateful she was listening to the Spirit to know that I needed her in that moment, a moment when I didn't even realize how much I needed her until it was over.  We're never alone, regardless of how often it can feel that way.

I am learning how many things I myself cannot yet understand.  It pains me to think of how many times I have hurt, and will likely continue to hurt, others just as my friend unintentionally hurt me, simply because I couldn't understand.  I suppose that is part of the journey to becoming Christlike:  learning to see others as He sees them.  Because He suffered for every pain, every heartache, and every struggle, of course He understands.  That and His divinity are why He can.  If we truly want to become more like our Savior, it only stands to reason that these experiences, albeit difficult, are there not only for our growth and betterment, but also in part to teach us to more completely love our brothers and sisters, as He loves them.

So that's my belated resolution if you will, to try to resist the urge to be offended, and instead to try to more fully understand and see the person as our Savior consistently sees and understands me and each of us.  Let's hope I can at least make it to February with this one :)