I'm not a warrior. I'm not battling anything.
(Well, sometimes misperceptions. Sometimes my own exhaustion.)
There's nothing to cure. There's no one who needs to be recovered.
(My son isn't lost.)
That doesn't mean there isn't a lot of awfully hard work to do:
Building up the skills that don't come naturally.
Weaving a safe cocoon and unraveling it bit by bit, sometimes before we feel ready.
Trying each day to keep the scales tipping towards joy rather than towards frustration.
Finding the teachers and others who can help him find his footing in the world.
And that doesn't mean that I, like every parent, don't wish from time to time that my child was different in some ways.
(Like when he's wide awake between 2 and 5 in the morning.)
But this is who we are. This is our way of being in the world. And I'm not at war.