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Tonight, I had a breakdown

This happens with disabililities, when you realize something is only going to get worse, and put you farther behind, and you’re going to always have to fight to be ten times better than people around you suspect, just to meet their expectations of a normal person.

For a while, I’ve been aware that I’ve never seen my own daughter’s face clearly. I catch it in bits and pieces, but I can never fully see her as she is. I’ve had to tell her, when she asks me about something, “Baby, mommy’s eyes don’t work so well. They’re not like yours.” And she says to me, “Mommy, your eyes are beautiful and brown.” I can’t tell you what that feels like.

I don’t know how to explain to her how guilty I feel, that when I’m teaching her to read, that sacred art that is the key to all knowledge, part of me is hoping she excels, so that she can read things to me. The guilt and frustration that comes with that is unparalleled. I don’t know how to tell her that I love her and am grateful for every second, but please baby, help mommy, because she wants to help you.

I know that soon I’m going to have to use my cane, and she’s going to feel what I feel helping my parents in their wheelchairs, but at so young an age. I don’t know how to prepare her for that and it’s so unfair. So impossibly unfair.

I don’t have a way to explain that. It kills me, to wait for her to mature so that I can make her understand.

It kills me. It makes me weep like no bully ever has. I don’t have the capacity to see, help my daughter. If she was desperate for help, I’d be limited in how I could respond. That fucking ends me.

I’m hurting.

My husband is gold. But he gets it. He understands what I’m feeling. That’s all I can ask.

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