I couldn't work at home this morning, the place was a mess, Connor not here, so I set out for breakfast at a cafe with my computer. Soon after a dad came in with his severely intellectually disabled child and sat at the table next to me.
Every interaction that I overheard made me feel close to tears. That the dad clearly loved him so much, that the boy was really trying to read and write - unlike my spoilt, yet perfect child who never tries at anything.
Having grown up with an intellectually disabled brother, you would've thought I'd have something to offer, but more often than not, when I encounter families with disabled kids, I over-identify and become emotional. I really wonder at myself. If they can handle it? why can't I? Maybe its because I know first hand what has to be overcome to keep going in life with a child like that? Maybe some unresolved childhood survivor guilt, that I am OK and I couldn't fix him. Or maybe I am just a sook. But I would be hopeless in a professional role with disabled kids. How would the parents react to a carer who just kept bursting into tears????
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