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Regarding Mino

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I've struggled to write this for weeks... 

Regular ABD readers may have noticed I suddenly stopped writing about my outtakes with Nelly and Mino.

Because it all stopped being funny at once.  

And it took me years to admit to myself what was wrong.  

Understandably, it took some time to share that with readers. 

Mino has always reminded me of myself. I see so much me in him.  

So it only makes sense that over the past few years, I ignored cautions at every junction that something may be off about my precious boy. 

That his busy, boisterous nature may be more than "boys being boys."  

And that I may have been blissfully ignorant to his real problems.  

Since Mino started Kindergarten, it's been hell. He has not adjusted well. 

He never really adjusted well, if I'm honest, since preschool. 

He just can't seem to contain or control himself or his emtions. I see him trying and he just seems incapable. Which is painful to witness.

There's been crying, defiance, outright hysterics, and no amount of discipline or taking things away, sticker charts, or positive reinforcement have helped.

I watch him beat him self up and in turn beat my self up.  

I'm his mama, after all. 

He looked me in my eyes and told me "Chrissy can't do this anymore." (For those who haven't caught on, Mino and Nelly are nicknames.) 

...and mama could not do it anymore either.  

Feeling more defeated than ever I finally started taking him to a play therapist, a clinical psychologist and his pediatrician...  

And we're all still lost.  

The guilt that I feel is immense. For literal years, I thought he'd grow out of his outbursts, his inability to accept criticism, his hyper nature... But he has not.  

While I'm riding high on multiple promotions professionally, I keep contemplating quitting in the back of my mind, knowing it may not do any good.  

Knowing this is bigger than me.  

And as a mother, admitting that you're helpless just...BLOWS. 

He looked me in the eye last week and said "I just wish you could go everywhere with me, mama. You make me feel okay."  

And knowing what it's like to feel ostracized,

separate,

different,

too much all the time, I just held my child. Feeling like I gave this burden to him.  

But I know I'm his advocate, his best shot, so I can't fall apart, even when he gets sent home multiple times a week...

When his color chart reads like a rainbow... 

When he feels hopeless and I have to remind him he's not... 

When I'm frustrated and confused... 

I have to hold it all together.  

No matter what.  

Because I made my son a promise before he was ever born, to protect him at all costs.  

To put his needs above my own.  

And I've got to say his pain hurts more than anything I've ever experienced myself.  

More than childbirth, a toothache, a breakup, and being flat broke with no friends and no prospects. I'd take any of it over this.  

Being a mama is a little like putting your heart on two feet and sending it into the world. And no matter how you try, you can't always protect your children. And when you feel like you fail at that, the pain is so palpable, so real, and so deep, it nearly paralyzes you. Except you have to keep fighting for your child who just can't do it for them self. 

This post has no conclusion just yet. But I'm hoping for some sort of diagnoses, or plan soon.  

So if anything, please send positive vibes to my precious, happy, busy Mino, that we develop the best plan for him.

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