Locked

In the daily tasks of caregiving—is there a task that you are the MOST vigilant about?

And then resent that you are the “only one” (seemingly…) in the family who is soooooo vigilant about this?

We live with a locked kitchen.

The refrigerator and pantry are locked at all times due to Ryan’s symptom of “hyperphagia,” food-seeking behavior, and never feeling FULL. Even if he just ate a meal, his body and brain do not signal that to him. Therefore, he wants more food and if he has access to it, watch out, it will be a food-fest right there in his bedroom.

If Ryan is present in the house, which he is, most of the time, with a sitter on walks or one of us on a hike, THEN the kitchen “should” be locked up. (Note: School has begun in-person, so that HELPS.) It is for his safety and well-being. Also, when the kitchen is locked, it decreases his anxiety about POSSIBLE access to food. No hope. No disappointment.

Ok, you get the point. 

Locked, locked, locked.

I am always locking. 
I am always watching. I am always checking. 

Before I leave the house. Before I go record a podcast episode. Before I take a shower. Before I am tied up in work for an extended amount of time in my Covid-bedroom-office. Sometimes even in the middle of the night, I check to see if it is all locked up.

I am the most vigilant.

And every time I notice that someone leaves it unlocked, it makes my skin crawl. I get mad. I lovingly exclaim: Who left the kitchen unlocked (again)????? Which of course pushes everyone’s buttons because it is back-ass-ward blaming tied up in a question. 

I took this to my therapist. Who set me straight. 

She told me this:

I am sure this is frustrating for you. And…
YOU ARE THE MOM. You will be the mostvigilant.

Accept it. Stop blaming others. Let it go. If you see it is open, lock it, and DO NOT say a word. Let it go.

She’s right.

And…Let’s go deeper, friends. Let’s dig around here emotionally.

What else? What else is happening for me? In me? Am I resenting my role? Am I resenting the vigilance it requires?

Am I resenting that this is part of everyday life?
Perhaps.

Perhaps it is time for me to make peace with this mom job. This altered motherhood. Again. Time to release this locked up resentment.

It is what it is.

Ryan has Prader-Willi syndrome. He did not ask for it.

He did not invite this life-threatening difficult symptom into his life and ours.

Time to breathe out to breathe in, again.

Exhale out…resentment and frustration.

Breathe in…compassion.

Compassion for him.

Compassion for my family who lives this crazy-beautiful life. Compassion for me, the mama, who’s heart and strength get tired.

I will be vigilant.  I will be the mama. I will be Ryan’s mom.