Opinions

One of the most challenging parts I have discovered through our journey is the opinions of others.

This included friends and family mostly.

Every one always seemed to have something to say in regards to our situation, I am sure they felt they were being helpful.

It sure didn't feel that way at times.

Questions, continuous questions.

Never an understanding it appeared of the process and steps we needed to take in order to get supports in place.

Always why didn't you do this or why haven't you gone here or there.

Never understanding once you get the ball rolling and see a GP, start a mental health plan, get referrals to relevant supports, referrals to paediatric supports, more assessments needing to be completed for accurate diagnosis, more psychological supports to complete the assessments.

The list goes on. It is a timely process. Did they not think I wanted this done immediately? Did they think I was happy just waiting months upon months for action and to get answers. While my child was suffering. While we as her parents were suffering.

Then the opinion or questioning of your parenting and decisions you have made. To the best of your ability, the judgement you feel that comes with it all.

Comments made that are just hurtful, again without possibly realising their words are hurtful. But they were and still can be.

Continuing questions every time you would see them, which don't get me wrong, it is nice to think/ know people care for your child and immediate families wellbeing.

But the doubt would creep in at times.

Are they asking because they generally care?

Are they asking to get the latest chaos we are managing?

Are they asking out of habit?

Do they really want to hear the truth?

No active listening, just more opinions.

It's crippling at times.

To feel judged by those who love you.

To feel they would do it better and know better than you do when they have not experienced close to what you and your child have.

I still remember some of these comments as clear as the day they were said to me.

To hear their stories of when their children were young.

To have to sit and politely listen to their opinions.

Exhausting. Frustrating. Deflating.

I can list a handful of times when someone asked me genuinely how I was coping.

But they gave me their opinions.