What you need

The juxtaposition of feelings this weekend has me reeling.

I have never felt so much like a great mother and a terrible mother all at once. Simultaneously. For the exact same reasons. 

Over the last two days, we have systematically faced -and conquered- "The Mat." That is, the matted hair that was so ever present it gained -to my horror- it's own personification. 

"I like my mat," she would declare. Honestly.

💀

The matted hair has been a battle for a while now, though maybe not in the way you might expect. There have been plenty of discussions about it, sure, but most of the battling has been internal - within myself.

By outward appearance, I'm obviously not doing something right. Everytime I watch her walk into school, with her hair so horribly matted, I hear what [I imagine] everyone must be thinking.

"How could her mother let her leave the house like that? ... My parents would never have let me get away with that ... She must have a really rough home life, I wonder if her parents even care for her at all ... "

And I silently plead my case with all the judgements I'll never get to hear or refute. 

Please, understand how difficult things are for us at home, that this isn't a priority for us right now, for good reasons. Please, understand how difficult it is for her to even be AT school and face the school day. How difficult every sensory stimulus is for her. How routine demands of everyday life are too much to bare. That merely surviving each day, sane and together, IS a success and accomplishment. 

Why does it feel like sending my daughter to school -or anywhere- with matted hair is a "bad mom" sentencing. It is, though.

I let it get that bad.

I didn't have the energy to fight that fight.

Not for one day or one week, but for months.

For months on top of months.

It wasn't a priority.

It literally couldn't be.

How can brushing your hair be a priority when just surviving from day to day takes so much? 

"But it's just hair! Get over it. It can't be that bad."

Or, my favorite - "Everyone has to do it."

Maybe it isn't "that bad," for someone without sensory processing disorder. Someone for who soft-touch doesn't register as literal pain and threat to their nervous system.

But when you undestand the cost of the task to them, it changes. It changes from,

"It's just hair, just brush it and move on with it already."

to,

"It's just hair, it's not worth the sacrifice of peace it would cost you to accomplish this task that's so difficult for you right now."

And so, we wait.

We prioritize. 

And one week turns into one month and then another and then, God-knows-how-many later, the stars have aligned and we are finally able to start tackling The Mat.

And I am so sad at how bad it is. So disappointed I wasn't able to do more. Grieving over how bad things must have been for us to paradox-acceptace the reality of the matted hair as part of our lives. 

And I am simultaneously so proud of us. So grateful we have been able to see past the matted hair and screams of protest. To see the need for safety and trust. For peace and rest. For help that didn't come by force. 

And it is the weirdest feeling in the world to be simultaneously so sad and so grateful.