I have been bed-ridden for three days, and it’s a Monday / first day back to school for the week (IYKYK). My body is worn. I also haven’t had my ADHD meds in days, which, when I do take them, exponentially give me more stable energy levels and support my task initiation, motivation, and general focus; so, my mind is worn also.
Last night, I saw an email response come in from the school about a new accommodation I want to add to my son’s IEP to support his recall of his multiplication facts. I didn’t open it because I didn’t have the mental energy to deal with the less-than-ideal response that I was sure was in the email. It’s obvious to me that he needs the accommodation. It’s also obvious to (and was recommended by) his tutor who has been tutoring him for years and was formerly his substitute teacher for an extended period when his previous teacher was on maternity leave; so, she has history with him. She is a regular go-to substitute at his school, has sub’d there for years, has been asked multiple times by the principal to come on permanently as a teacher. She knows the school system well. Not to mention, she has a background in supporting neurodivergent students with behavioral disabilities. She and I both see the need for the accommodation. The school’s response: “we want to collect data for two to three weeks and speak with his teachers and administration to determine whether he needs this accommodation to support his success.” Mind you, math (specifically, math facts fluency) is an area where both school data and external evaluation data have demonstrated that he needs support and an area that we have discussed at length over the course of three one-hour ARD meetings this school year alone. And I get it: they need to have data to back up everything that’s in the IEP. I just feel like we have more than enough data so there is no need to prolong getting him the support that he needs. The school is at the direction of a larger self-serving legal, political, and social system; thus, it perpetuates everything that is wrong with the system. Add to this a school’s individual resources limitations, tight deadlines, decision-making driven by funding over students’ needs, and a propensity to remain grounded in tradition and tethered to lagging research and practices, it is no surprise that the system works the way it does.
In my physical and mental weariness, I was stuck between wanting to keep fighting for what my son needs and wanting to throw up my hands and give up because I’m so tired of fighting for six years now and so worn in this very moment from the past few days. Neither is the right response, but what do you do when you feel stuck, helpless, and worn?
Yes, as a believer, I am held in God’s hands and in His perfect plan, but, as a human, I am still going to experience the resistance, injustice, marginalization, and, often, racism of systems. When a person is experiencing real life, real grief, and real loss, spiritual platitudes don’t always help practically. You can tell me to trust God and that God will work it out. How does that help me to manage the push back of the system? If someone loses a loved one, telling the person to trust God doesn’t take away, minimize, or soothe the pain. I don’t have the answer. I wish I did. I just keep taking the next step that I can. If it means, like last night, laying the problem to the side for the moment and going to sleep to get rest, then that’s what it looks like. For me, this morning, I did the next thing I could. I took my meds which helped me gain mental clarity, which then helped me to adequately access the thought that God is good, which then helped to ground me. Then, I wrote out my thoughts in this post because typing, writing, or speaking about them helps me to process and untangle them. I also wanted to help someone else feel less alone if possible.
Now, I completely understand if you’re tired of hearing, “just take the next step,” especially if that’s what you’re used to doing, if you feel like that’s all you’ve been doing, or if you desperately want to be thriving instead of surviving or existing. We hear people say we’ll look up one day and see how far all those little steps took us and that’s so true. Those steps have brought me so far, but what happens when you feel like flying, running, or even walking feel out of reach? Isaiah 40:31 tells us to wait on the Lord and exchange our limited strength for his endless strength. What happens when you get tired of waiting? You find someone who can come alongside you, who can remind you that this is not the end of your story, who can sit with you in the hard times, and who can remind you that you matter. I hope I can be that for you as you read this. I want you to know that it’s ok to be worn. I am too. Jesus was too. I don’t know when we’ll run, but let’s put that thought to the side for a moment and rest. Rest in community. Rest in the fact that you’re seen and loved, beloved. I’ll be praying for you to find community in Christ <3
You matter.
