Blogging through Tears

I’m typing this at a 16 font – because I can’t see anything smaller through my tears. I write from a broken heart. I write of broken dreams, unmet expectations, pure frustration, and uncertainty of the future. I’m actually a little surprise how genuinely downcast I feel.

I chose to drop Rose from ballet. Not life changing – but for me it is.


She loves to dance. Since she was little she has put on a tutu and danced around the living room performing for anyone who was available. Heaven forbid you don’t clap after her 28th twirl – even if you clapped for the 27 prior ones. I knew she would love a dance class and performing on stage where hundreds of people were clapping for her.

Travis Academy of Fine Arts was the perfect fit for her. It’s focus is training artists to use their gifts and talents for the glory of God. The staff and the teacher were so accommodating, loving and supportive of her disabilities. It was perfect.


After the first two classes, she happily put on her ballet uniform at home after class and demonstrated her “happy toes, sad toes” (flex, point) and her  popcorn – “pop, pop, pop, explode” (releve, releve, releve, jump). We clapped.

The third week she was comfortable with the class. She made “friends.” But everything changed. The teacher had to send her out in the hall with me because she was invading her “friends’ personal space, and the other students were upset (a social clue she missed).  She was supposed to sit with me for a couple of minutes then go back to class. Instead she had an all out melt down – fell on the floor, kicking, screaming, sobbing – and it didn’t end. I picked her up, and took her to the car and drove home.

ballet-1Since then, every time ballet is mentioned – she becomes anxious – her entire body becomes tense, she contorts her face, and she rubs her fingers together until almost raw in obsessive, repetitive manner. Last night, as I put her to bed – I tried to reason with her that ballet class would go better this week, and she’d like it again – you know, “if you fall off the horse – get back on” – right? She started crying uncontrollably and gouging her arms with her finger nails. I simply held her and prevented her from hurting herself farther. I realized – getting back on the horse was not possible at this point in time. It may only take one good class to make her enjoy it again – but that one good class was not going to happen. She is incapable of bouncing back and having the “one good class.”

I dropped her from the class – and I cried the whole time I did so. It is about so much more than a ballet class. Enrolling her in the class had made me feel like a “good parent” – I was giving her a social outlet, I was building upon her interest – her gifts and talents. Enrolling her in the class had made me feel like she was a “typical” “normal” little girl – instead it opened my eyes that she is not “typical” or “normal.” I knew that in my head – but dropping ballet touched my heart – and I can’t seem to stop crying over it.

Ballet was my wake up call. At this point in life – Kymee doesn’t need her gifts, talents and interests encouraged as much as she needs skills to pursue her gifts, talents and interests. She needs social skills so she doesn’t “pop other people’s bubbles” (invade private space). She needs skills in dealing with change and transition (being sent out of class was an abrupt transition). She needs skills to manage her anxieties – so she’ll stop harming herself and start enjoying life. She needs therapy not ballet.

That’s a hard pill for this mom to swallow and I can’t stop crying I will reset the type to 12 now.


Birthday – Eve Meltdown

Don’t let the sweet face and twinkle in the beautiful blue eyes fool you – this little girl can be a stinker!

Tonight she had, what I am going to refer to as, a “melt-down.”
Over stimulation?! Too much previewing of birthday sweets?! Super short nap?! Not enough time with Mommy?!
Whatever the cause, or “trigger,” it was bad. Two hours of screaming, crying, kicking legs, head bagging, pulling her hair, hitting her head with her hands, pulling her ears, rolling around on the bed, thrashing her body. Two hours!
I rocker her – I cradled her – I held her close- She would cry and toss and turn, and push me away. As soon as she pushed away, she’s scream and snuggle into me with her head at my breast. Then the cycle would start again.
She seemed to like being held, but being held seemed to overstimulate her and wind her up again.
Finally, I tried something different – I don’t know how I thought of it – it just came to me as a answer to my silent prayer for God to help me help her. I laid her down on the bed and laid pillows all around her – two on each side – her right and left, her head and feet. The pillows were touching her – creating a soft cocoon. I then wrapped a light blanket around her and placed a pillow on top of her for pressure. Just one little head with wispy blond curls could be seen among the stack of pillows. Her crying stopped almost immediately, and her whimper turned into deep breathing. Within 3 minutes she was sound asleep.
I don’t know whether it was the security of being enveloped in fluff, or that she simply wore herself out and anything I tried would have worked in that moment, but there is peace on the other side of turmoil. God is good. All the time.