Dear Published,
Thank you so much for your kind words and understanding: I’m working on my excerpt for your book but I keep hitting a wall. I think the problem is that I have wasted so much time trying to make it sound pretty or “publishable.” You know I was published once; had a contract and everything. I wasn’t very good at the whole deadline thing. They are hard to meet when you have a full time job, three children (one of whom is disabled), and you’re drunk most of the time. Did I just admit I have a problem with alcohol?! Yeah I guess I did. If you choose to include my excerpt in your book I’m going to be the ugly chapter; the chapter you’re going to have to put a warning label on. Something like: Reader discretion advised, what you are about to read contains content that EVERYONE will find painful and offensive. I have a story no one wants to read. I had the life no one wants to live. I am the experience no one wants to share.
Do you know I’ve joined not one but 3 support groups for special needs parents? Never made it past the first meeting. I was told by each that I was in a safe space. I was told by each that I was free to tell the truth without judgement. I was told by each that they were there to help. Then when I told them about the beatings, the chipped teeth, my broken possessions, my injured dog, the feces smeared across my home, the lost friends, the empty vodka bottles, the precipice of whether or not to place him in a group home, and the never ending question of whether or not I wanted to live anymore………………………..I wasn’t invited back.
You see Published, most Club Members (that’s how I refer to special needs parents) would prefer I go away. I scare people. Think about it: would you share my story with a mother whose child was recently diagnosed with ANY type of genetic disorder or autism? Of course you wouldn’t, it would be cruel. Imagine that: Whatever you do Rachel don’t tell the truth about your life with your son because it would be cruel. You will only frighten mothers who are already terrified of what the future will bring. Just imagine having to live like that: Rachel if you really care about your fellow “club members” have the decency to hide.
So for years that’s what I did. I hid. I hid him, so no one could see the monster and everyone could go on believing he was a sweet angel and the scratches on my face were from ramming into walls because I was a drunk. I never let anyone, especially other women, get too close because women had rejected me all my life. The only ones I did let in were the ones I could count on to fail me eventually. One in particular comes to mind. I’ll call her Sidero because it means evil nymph. God she had me fooled. Helped me set up my classroom, babysat my children, held me while I cried, and encouraged me more than anyone else to start this blog! For awhile there I thought she was the best thing that ever walked into my life. Until she found someone better, someone less “involved” as she put it. Ending a friendship is messy business. Best to make it quite final. If you’ve found yourself in this predicament, take a lesson from Sidero and try something like……………………The friend you wish to rid yourself of is having a terrible problem with her special needs son. He’s given up the whole “toilet paper” thing and has taken to smearing his shit all over the bathroom. Invite her over to your house for a party. Tell her not to worry about a thing, have a few drinks, and you’ll be SURE to tell her the moment Kevin heads into the bathroom. Only you don’t do that. You watch Kevin go into the bathroom and you wait several minutes; minutes you know he’s painting quite the picture. Then open the door, gasp, and show the entire party what he has done. Only then do you go tell your “friend” what has happened. Listen to her apologize pathetically and watch her and her husband scrub your bathroom to a sparkling, disinfected shine. When she offers to have it professionally cleaned say, “Oh no that’s not necessary. It’s fine we’re friends!” Then, the next day, tell everyone in town with two ears to listen that while Rachel was shitfaced at your party, Kevin shat all over the bathroom and she didn’t even have the decency to clean it. THAT’S how you end a friendship. Go big or go home, right?
Hopefully now you understand why I said no initially when Jenna asked me to write to you. Well in fairness I didn’t say no. I’m kind of a coward when it comes to Jenna. I probably said, “Yup I’ll get right on it my friend don’t you worry!” then made a list of excuses NOT to reach out. Why? Because as a fellow Club Member you know how painful it is to talk about this stuff. It’s so fucking painful I would give anything in the world to forget it all. That’s why, if it weren’t for this stubborn GOAT of a friend of mine, I’d have given up writing by now. I’d let the memories fade. I don’t want to remember. I want to plant flowers, cook delicious meals, sun myself at the beach, teach my adorable students, birdwatch (I have become obsessed with birds in my old age), and enjoy quality time with the boy who doesn’t hit me or smear feces on my home anymore.
Honestly, I wish said stubborn goat would just let me go and forget about me. I’m on the other side of the country for God’s sake it wouldn’t be that hard to just never pick up the phone again. But the truth is, it’s my fault she won’t let me go, because I was never willing to let her go. The story I told about us on my porch is true: “I’m going to the red house to play and you can come.” I could have let her walk away but I wanted to follow her.
No one, and I mean no one, not even Walt Disney himself, has ever believed in the magic of small children more than Jenna. She’s built her whole life around it. Because of her, I now believe in the enchantment of that one short moment. It’s why I remember it so clearly. Jenna will tell you I remember EVERYTHING but it’s not true; I remember the moments that matter, the moments that scared me, and the moments that changed me. Jenna walked off my porch with the most pissed off walk a five year old can muster. Her back said it all: “This is a mistake. This is not what I wanted. I wanted a boy, or at least a girl who isn’t so girly. I wanted bike rides and mud puddles not glitter and lipstick. Forts suck. You can follow me but I hope you don’t. You’re weird and I can already tell you’re very needy which I can’t stomach. Do me a favor and stay on your porch with your dolls and your crayons and the fort we both know you’re never going to build because you’re too easily distracted. I have enough fucking people in my life who aren’t who I need them to be.”
It was actually kind of a power walk. And it took me a moment to register what was happening but when I did I caught up with her and in my own way said, “You’re right. I am weird, but so are you. Who, with hair the color of sunshine wears it so short and with a body like a supermodel dresses like a boy? Hate to break it to ya sweetheart but you have the market cornered on weird. Furthermore, no one in this short life of mine has ever been who I needed them to be so you’re not walking away. There are too many people who would walk away from me if they could but they can’t. You said I could follow you and I think it’s because deep down you know we need each other.”
I reached out to Jenna after we spoke and she was so happy we connected. I can’t remember what I said to her but I can remember what I was thinking: I don’t want to do this Jenna. Please don’t make me. I don’t want to go back to that horrible place. It was so dark and I was so alone there. I had a mantra that got me out of bed each morning for years: You can do this Rachel. Just get up and breathe in and out all day. Take care of him as best you can and one day, one beautiful day a long way from today, you won’t have to live anymore.”
Dear Published,
I don’t care about being published anymore but I’m grateful you do. I’m going to finish the excerpt I promised you if it kills me because some woman out there needs to hear what I have to say. My whole life I have been rejected by the women who were supposed to love and accept me the most. But the day I moved to Nokomis Trail in Medford Lakes I met two girls, Jenna and Victoria (one of the many red-headed people who spilled out of the red house that day), who have loved me unconditionally and taught me the true meaning of courage. Yes Audra you taught me all those things too but I didn’t meet you till I was ten so don’t get your painties in a twist. Jenna means Fair Phantom (the Arabic translation is beautiful, hovering spirit) and Victoria means victory over evil. Alas, no one in Vicki’s short life had ever been who she needed them to be either. Perhaps because she sensed a kindred spirit, the “victor over evil” embraced me immediately. Jenna I grew on like a fungus, or a hemorrhoid depending on the day.
Published, I’m going to break through this wall and finish my excerpt for my two friends. Because of them, despite the many women who have hurt me, I believe in the goodness of women and the power we have to help each other if we’re willing to tell our truth, no matter how much pain it may cause. I am going to finish my excerpt for all the women in the world who never had a beautiful, hovering spirit that helped them achieve victory over evil. I’m going to finish my excerpt for your book and I really hope it gets published.
