Distance

For once, my writing here in this space was not for any woe-is-me reasons.  Life is actually wonderful. Life with three boys, a dog, and a husband is incredibly fulfilling.  Easy, no, but happy. I'm finding a lot of new things in my own life and changing some things up.  It's good.

But I took intentional distance from this space because over the past few months I have realized that this space became my place to vent, lament, and provide my own comfort...especially with regards to Little Bug's needs.

For the record, I regret writing only one post here in the past four years, and that post was deleted very quickly.  Even the most painful of posts are precious to me because they capture a snapshot of a very real, very raw situation. I love reading the posts where I celebrate the milestones and triumphs of my children.

But in the last few months I took a break from this space because I've began to realize through some uncomfortable self reflection that my openness with Little Bug's needs (although written in the spirit of honesty or fierce pride for my son) has taken away his ability to just be Little Bug to the world. This blog isn't anonymous to a lot of readers, and that's something I have always been okay with, but that I know see in a different light as I think through the things that I have shared here over the years.

Little Bug is 6 years old now. He's in school and making friends and living a life crafted around hobbies and talents of his own making. He is the most loving child you will ever meet. He will always be excited to see you, meet you, become your friend, and learn your first and last name. He takes pride in his shirts, watches, and sun glass collections. He only wants to eat hot lunch at school because it's cool. He knows that he has to work hard, both physically and academically, and although that is a drag, he has amazing work ethic and will never give up. And he'll turn around and do it again for you with a smile, high five, and fist bump. He's a great big brother who coos comfort to his baby brother in Korean and helped potty train him. He has great hair, eyes that often literally twinkle, and a smile that can go from impish to mega-watt in a heart beat.  He is an unforgettable little boy who charms everyone he meets.

But I don't write or talk about that enough. Instead I spend my time talking about medication, therapy, IEPs, sensory, tics, etc. etc. etc. And that stuff is even more unique, so it makes sense that it will float to the forefront when people think of Little Bug. And in our quest to make life easier for our son, to help people understand him, and to share our incredible pride in his accomplishments, Appa and I have spent years perpetuating this.

That really sucked as a mother to realize. Because maybe I wasn't helping him by being so open...maybe it was actually just myself I was helping at the expense of his privacy.

So we've realized that at this stage in his life, what Little Bug needs is a very small Team Little Bug to worry about those parts of his life, and the rest of his world to focus on getting to know the Little Bug that is growing into a shining, engaging, hilarious, curious, kind boy. 

From now on, Appa and I have agreed not to share details of Little Bug's challenges with people. That includes my writing about them in this space.  After a lot of contemplation, I will continue to write here about all my boys, but simply be mindful of what they might want to be shared about their lives as they get older.  And I'll continue to share our special needs journey through MY eyes and MY challenges, but I'll never make it specific to Little Bug's needs again.  We aren't going to act like they don't exist, but by now, everyone who needs to know that Little Bug is different knows enough to be a valued part of his life.  And all the anonymous people who read this blog...you know enough, too.

I hope that no one takes this the wrong way.  This is a wrong that Appa and I take responsibility for and are seeking to fix before Little Bug gets any older.  We love our son, we are proud of our son, but most of all, he is simply that...our beloved son.