parenting-with-a-disability

Parenting with a Disability

This post was originally published in February 2018. I’ve updated it to include a follow up since the original publication.


This is the final week in a 3-week series on parenting observations. Week one is based on gentle parentingweek two is about parenting with compassion, and week three is about parenting with a disability.

These posts are based on my personal experiences as a parent and are not meant in any way to judge other parenting styles or decisions. I am offering my own research and conclusions as possible suggestions for others out there; therefore, these posts will be as objective as possible. When it comes to parenting: if the method isn’t abusive, there really isn’t a wrong way to parent your child. Be secure and do what works best for you and your family and ignore outside judgment.


For many people, parenthood is fraught with challenges: getting enough sleep, the terrible twos, and the need for independence as children grow older. For a select few, there is the added challenge of balancing parenting and a disability of some sort.

Parenting without a disability is difficult, and parenting with one presents its own unique challenges. With some adaptations, parenting with a disability is no harder than parenting without one. Remember: it’s comparing apples and oranges; each type is challenging and straightforward in their own ways.

The key is to know what the limits are, having a support system of some sort to help manage those limitations, and keeping everything in a proper perspective.

In the final week of my parenting series, this week will be based more on observations from my own experience coupled with resources found online. If you are a parent with a disability, you may see some similarities in your situation. Hopefully, this will provide some validation to your experience.

Nota bene: This post will be using the universal “you/second person” pronouns throughout, so it may not speak to your experience directly.

Visible versus Invisible

There are two different types of disabilities out there: the ones you can see and the ones you cannot. For people with invisible disabilities, this can lead to a lot of issues, mainly if a person looks “normal” but uses a handicap parking space. A person does not need to be in a wheelchair, despite the universal logo, to be disabled.

Multiple Sclerosis can be both: for those with PPMS and SPMS (and at times, RRMS), it’s a more visible disability. The person can use a cane, walker, or scooter. It can be abnormal speech patterns, cognitive difficulties, or physical weakness. The outside observer can see the disability.

But many with RRMS don’t display outward symptoms of their diagnosis. Yet, the disability can still be there: fatigue, mental fog, or pain. Flare-ups can cause limb weakness or numbness, which several limits mobility for a short time.

When it is hard to see the disability, it is hard for outsiders to understand the extent of the disability. This can lead to feelings of frustration, inadequacy, and self-doubt by the person with the diagnosis.

Parenting with an invisible disability adds an additional layer of complications: sometimes, it’s hard to make playdate plans because you don’t know how you might feel that day. You may not remember simple details about your child’s life, and therefore seem disengaged with the parenting process from the outside. None of these reasons make you less of a parent, it just alters how you parent.

Ultimately, for those with an invisible disability, they can spend part of their day mentally preparing for outside judgment because people might not know or understand the situation. Outside judgment isn’t a daily occurrence, but when it happens, it stings because you are left feeling inadequate.

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leading-with-chronic-illness

Leading Others Along the Way

On Monday, I discussed how we inadvertently become leaders when we go public with our chronic illness diagnosis. We may not ask, nor want the responsibility, but it inevitably happens. Therefore, we face the questions: should I lead? Do I want to? and what example should I set?

Living with a chronic illness in the United States is becoming a more common occurrence. Because of this uptick, it is becoming more common to know someone affected with a chronic disease. Let’s reflect before your diagnosis for a moment: with your symptoms, did you go online and search for answers before visiting a doctor? If you knew someone with the disease in the results, did you approach them with questions?

So often, when I answer questions about my MS to those experiencing similar symptoms, do I hear how scared they are. There’s a desire for reassurance that they don’t have MS, or that it’s not a death sentence. People are seeking a connection with a person living with an illness that is not in search results. As someone who is out with my diagnosis, my role is to comfort and inform. 

I can, as can you, choose not to take on this role.  

We do not owe anyone answers about our illness. We can choose to refuse to answer, advocate, or inform about the disease. Yet, it is vital to be aware that when we go public with a chronic illness, we will continually field questions until others understand our stance on the matter.

If you choose to take on the role of “local” leader and “expert” on your disease, I wanted to write this post with you in mind. 

What are my Responsibilities?

If you’ve decided to be public with your illness and accepted a leadership role, there’s a set of unspoken responsibilities that come with it. I spoke briefly about this on Monday. I wasn’t aware of all of these responsibilities when I first started blogging about my MS.

As I went along in my journey, I saw good and bad examples of advocacy. As someone out with their disease, it’s imperative you set yourself apart from those who are out for the attention. You will find that there’s always someone out there who is a poor advocate for your illness. They post sensational images on social media, only focus on the negative aspects, and do not take the opportunity to inform others about the disease itself (just that they have it).

They might be considered inspiring by others, too, but look beyond the sensationalism and see the truth: they are attention-seeking and not informing. Be more responsible and educate others about your illness. The ones who are flashy and irresponsible make more work for the rest of us, so it’s important you help the cause rather than hinder it.

I want to share the responsibilities we undertake when we go public with our illness and become a token advocate for others. 

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letting-go-of-control

Turning It Over

I struggle with letting go of control. Ash will tell you this should you ask him. When I get into a micro-managing state, it’s one of the quickest ways for me to experience an exacerbation. When I feel out of control, I tighten my grip to control everything around me, and then I stress out because I feel out of control. While I haven’t had a significant exacerbation in several years, my brain fog, L’Hermittes Sign, and neck twinges when I start down the path of stressing out. 

I’ve learned I have had to say to myself, “I can’t control everything, so I need to stop,” and attempt to go with the flow no matter what direction that might take. But I can slip back into bad habits of wanting to control everything and then I start stressing out again.

It’s a vicious cycle.

And usually feeling out of control helps bring that about. I’ve learned that I cannot control everything, and for the most part I do well to go with the flow of everything, but then I slip back into bad habits of wanting to control everything around me and then I get back into that space of feeling out of control and stressed.

It’s a vicious cycle.

When we have a particular life philosophy, we are often told to let go and give up control. And there’s something to that – it’s just got to be done in a healthy and reasonable manner. I have found what works for me, and so it’s important that you find what works for you.

I’ve learned I have had to say to myself, “I can’t control everything, so I need to stop,” and attempt to go with the flow no matter what direction that might take. But I can slip back into bad habits of wanting to control everything, and then I start stressing out again.

Depending on your life philosophy, or belief system, we are often told the importance of giving up control. That may be to a higher power, the universe, or just in general. That’s solid advice no matter your background: recognizing what you can control, what you can’t, and letting go of what you can’t.

When we have a particular life philosophy, we are often told to let go and give up control. And there’s something to that – it’s just got to be done in a healthy and reasonable manner. I have found what works for me, and so it’s important that you find what works for you.

Letting Go of Our Worries

If you have a higher power, you are at an advantage to someone who does not, because many belief systems teach the importance of giving up control to a higher power. If you don’t have a particular belief system, you have to remind yourself not to be so controlling and go with the flow. It’s a built-in reminder that those without a higher power do not have. But if you don’t have a higher power, that’s fine, you just have to remember to say, “it’s okay, I don’t need to control everything.”

Struggle with giving up control? Well, if you have a belief system, seek out direct texts that teach you to give up control. If you can’t find anything there that speaks to you, seek out secondary books, usually written by scholars, that might speak to the matter.

If you don’t have a belief system, consider mindfulness techniques to bring you back to the present moment. When you focus on the present, the moment you are in now, you cannot try to control everything around you. Center yourself at the moment and find ways to let go of the control you are fighting to hold. Look to your health as a starting point: I must let go of control to better tend to my health.

Finding the Balance

This brings up the question: who is responsible for our lives? Us? Our Higher Power? The Universe? Something else?

That’s an answer only you can decide. I cannot tell you, nor can I presume to suggest the correct answer. What I can do is tell you what worked for me, but that does not mean it will work for you.

For myself, I gave up personal responsibility when I had a specific higher power. I gave that higher power responsibility for my life, my happiness, and at times, my actions. I gave up too much control to this higher power. They were not responsible for my specific actions or responses to a situation, though I said they were as a means of absolving bad behaviors.

When I took responsibility for my actions and reactions to situations, I found a more profound peace within myself because I was able to feel more in control of my life. Even though things happened to me, outside of my control, I recognized that my response to those things was something I could control. It was about finding a balance between what I could control and what I could give up.

Figure out the balance in your own life: what responsibility can you take on for yourself, and what control you can let go. When you recognize that there are elements in life beyond your control, such as your chronic illness, you can start to lower your stress.

Acceptance of What We Cannot Change

Another advantage people with a higher power have over those who do not have one, is it allows for recognition for what cannot be changed and force us to move forward. Without a higher power, there needs to be a reminder to move forward in life, despite the roadblocks. People can place their trust in the higher power to see them through and take comfort in that.

Without a higher power, we must seek comfort elsewhere. We must trust that life will guide us through the process and that a coincidence will pop up to allow us to move forward or find an alternative. Often, life provides us with this when we aren’t expecting it. So remember to expect nothing, but accept everything to embrace an opportunity when it arises.

Moving Forward

It’s not easy to give up control, whether to a higher power or just in general. It’s never going to be easy, no matter how often we might need to do it. Why? Because control allows us to feel empowered. When we give up control, we lose a sense of power.

But if we want to move forward in life, if we’re going to begin to heal the emotional wounds caused by a chronic illness, we must give up control over things we cannot control. Whether that is to your higher power or to something else, when you give up control, you begin the process to move forward in life.

Life moves us in a forward momentum whether we like it or not, we might as well accept that movement and find ways to work with it, rather than against it.


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celebrate-life

Celebrate Life

Today I wanted to focus on celebrating the big things since we discussed celebrating the small stuff on Monday. So, why not go for the most significant thing worthy of our celebration, and that’s life itself? Why not celebrate life?

Living with a chronic illness makes celebrating life hard, but it can be done. We might wish things were different, hope that we were healthy. But let’s be honest: if we were healthy, there would be something else to make celebrating life difficult. It’s in our nature to skew towards the negative.

We all wish for what we don’t have, no matter how rich or healthy we might be. We are always desirous of something, and with that, we sometimes forget the most important thing out there: that we have our lives.

Using Mallory Smith as an example, let us celebrate each day despite the setbacks we encounter.

Appreciating Victories (Big and Small)

Each day we wake up is a small victory. If you wake up with no pain, a victory. If you wake up with no exacerbation, a victory. If everything is going well, then that’s a victory! That is a moment worthy of celebration.

Maybe you don’t take each (relatively) good moment for granted, but there might be moments where you forget. I often forget to appreciate the exacerbation-free days. I am reminded to recognize them when I am in the middle of a particularly frustrating exacerbation episode. At that point, it’s too late. I am in the past, appreciating what I had; or in the future when the event is over.

Neither of these options is ideal because I am struggling to maintain my mindfulness practice, which can help me manage my discomfort and stress.

It’s difficult to appreciate life with a chronic illness. The absolute uncertainty of when we’ll experience a flare-up is frustrating. Deep in the moments of an exacerbation brings us to the breaking point. Yet, we have to press on. The moments our illness minimally impacts us are worth appreciating.

Allow yourself to celebrate the mundane. Try not to feel weird about it because it’s something everyone, healthy or chronically ill, should do. Celebrate over social media if you need to, let others know what’s going on in your life but do not worry about getting validation. You probably won’t get it, or you’ll get a negative person trying to bring you down. Ignore them because it’s your celebration. Not theirs. If it’s important to you and you are the only one who matters.

Putting it into Perspective

A few months after my diagnosis, I was in the position of being “at least I’m not them,” for some stranger. It was not a good feeling to be the subject of someone else’s perspective-check. Yet, it’s a mindfulness exercise, recognizing that while your life might not be where you want it, there is always someone worse off than you.

To put it into context: I was in group therapy at the time, and it was my final session. As I was doing the “graduating out” exercises, the person taking my spot overlapped and was in their first session, seated beside me. I described my life with MS, how I was coming to terms with it, and I noticed this new person writing furiously in their journal.

I later learned that it was poor form for the facilitator to allow the journal into this safe space.

Curiosity overcame me, and since they were sitting next to me, I peeked over to see what was on the paper. I saw the words “…she has MS, at least that’s not me. I am lucky not to be her.” I was humiliated to see those words. No one else in the group had MS, so it was clearly about me. I could feel my anger towards this person rise and towards myself for being put into a position of pity.

Was that a breach of privacy to peek at what they wrote? Perhaps, but they didn’t exactly try to hide what they were writing. The journal was wide open and tilted towards me. Not knowing this person or their situation, it’s possible they wanted me to see what they wrote.

I recognize the importance this practice plays in our lives. It allows us to acknowledge that while our situation is not ideal, we could have it worse. Often it is said to us by others either as a means to comfort us or get us to be quiet about our situation.

So it’s a mixed bag as to whether this type of perspective check is healthy or not. I am not going to endorse it one way or the other beyond recognizing the importance of maintaining perspective.

For this person, perhaps I was able to provide small comfort in their life. It was incredibly humiliating and yet positively humbling. It would take a few more years before I had a better perspective, but I learned at that moment that I am not as perfect as I thought I was. It humanized me to myself. I know that sounds weird, but for years, I had an inflated sense of self as a coping mechanism. I was out of touch with reality, and this private journal entry broke through that.

It gave me perspective in a different way that it gave the writer perspective. I suspect, given what I remember of what little they shared about themselves, I probably gained more from the whole experience than them.

Mindful of the Moment

Practicing mindfulness is a chance for us to appreciate life.

When we celebrate the moment, at the moment, everything melts away. I am fortunate enough to spend a week or two on the shores of Lake Michigan every year. Looking out at the endless watery horizon, I can put everything aside and focus on that moment, staring off into the distance. It grants me an opportunity to put my life into perspective, but also recognize how fortunate I am.

We may not be able to spend a few moments in a place conducive to personal reflection, but we can spend time being mindful of our life. We can appreciate being able to breathe on our own; our ability to walk or if we can’t, the tools available to us so we can remain mobile; and we can appreciate the support network available to us, regardless of its size.

Take time to connect with the ground beneath your feet, the chair you sit in, or your bed. If you connect with the earth, reflect on all the other people who stood in that spot throughout time. Feel a connection to the faceless masses over several millennia. The animals, the plants, and all of life that experienced the same place you are in right now. Feeling that connection to others, allows you to feel a connection to life itself.

Celebrate that life.

It’s typically in these moments I feel small, but not in a negative way. I recognize my space and place in the universe. My existence is not even a blip in time or space. My problems, concerns, and worries will not matter in the end.

What is important is what I do with my blip in time.

Celebrate Life

Take some time to celebrate your life, as it is, no matter where you are in life. Put it into proper perspective, experience the benefits of mindfulness, and take time to decide how you want to spend your time. Do you want to engage in negativity beyond healthy expressions, or do you want to enjoy the time you do have, as imperfect as it may seem?

Choosing to celebrate life will help you feel better, lower stress, and find the personal satisfaction you might be searching for, despite your chronic illness.


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learning-to-manage-expectations

Learning to Manage Expectations

Learn to manage your expectations.

It’s one of the first things your healthcare specialist says to you after receiving your diagnosis. While my neurologist never explicitly said it to me, it’s implied. Granted, they have high expectations for my wellness, often higher than I had for myself. But when I was in the hospital, pre-diagnosis, that was one of the first things the hospital neurologist said to me in response to my health concerns.

Whether it’s been said or not, it’s something we learn quickly with a chronic illness. We must manage our expectations because we have no choice.

For many of us, we have the following expectations in life: we’ll be healthy, achieve personally, and go far professionally. Often these expectations get scrapped in favor of coping with a chronic illness diagnosis. We might have pain to manage that prevents certain exercises. Our fatigue gets to be too much that we cannot do the same personal tasks we once did. Or our workplace can only accommodate our illness so much before we see colleagues surpassing us.

The expectations we once had slip away and we feel nothing but discouragement. But do we have to let those expectations go?

John Gary Bishop says in Unf*ck Yourself that we should “expect nothing, but accept everything.” It’s perhaps the healthier way to approach the “manage your expectations” conversation. We should scrap all the expectations we have for ourselves and accept whatever life sends our way with an open mind.

This refers to the positive and negative expectations we place upon ourselves.

Why We Set Expectations

Why do we even set expectations in the first place?

In childhood, expectations are placed upon us and for us. Parents might expect us to take on a level of responsibility around the house, or they might share their desire to see us succeed when we become adults. We extrapolate this external expectation and internalize it for what we think we’re capable of doing. Expectations drive our dreams and our desire for achievements.

But rarely are limits placed on these expectations, and as a child, why should it be limited? We imagine being firefighters, doctors, and presidents as our career goals, not wanting to pick between the three. We expected to achieve anything, especially when told we can be whatever we want when we grow up.

Illness or not, we learn quickly that there are limits to our expectations. Not all of us will get into an Ivy League school. We will have to choose between a firefighter, doctor, and president for a career, if only to pick one to focus on at a time.

Life will not work out the way we expected. And then we get our diagnosis.

The Problem with Expectations

The obvious problem with expectations, at least at first, is that we are often unprepared for the letdown. When we don’t achieve the way we expected, it can feel like a failure. For some, that can lead us to shutdown and get stuck.

When we set expectations early in life and achieve them, it’s often viewed as a good thing. Rightly so, you set a path for yourself and achieved your goal. Rich Karlgaard writes about the problematic relationship Western culture has with early bloomers in his book Late Bloomers. Western culture is so hyper-obsessed with the Mark Zuckerbergs, Elizabeth Holmes, and Malala Yousafzais, that it overlooks those who quietly grind away to achieve their success later in life (30s and beyond).

Because there’s an intense expectation for early success, often when we leave high school or college without making some “30 under 30” list, there’s a feeling of panic. This can bring our personal expectations down, or cause us to stall out for a few years.

This is one problem with societal expectations: we misplace expectations on people who may not be emotionally mature to handle the pressure (for reference: Elizabeth Holmes, Martin Shkreli). When young people are pushed to succeed early, they forget that a window does not close as soon as they turn twenty-five. That window for success stays open their entire lives.

If you are alive, you still have the chance to bloom and succeed.

The second problem referenced in Karlgaard’s book is that early bloomers do not know how to handle failure in the same way late bloomers do. When you are a late bloomer, you get used to “failure;” you get used viewing it not as a failure but as a learning experience. Late bloomers are better equipped with managing their expectations.

Learning to Manage Expectations

In life, there are two sets of expectations: “positive” and “negative” ones. This is a false binary, but I am going to use it for clarity sake. Positive expectations are the goals we set for ourselves that we want to achieve. Negative expectations are the times we don’t believe we can achieve it.

At the time we receive our diagnosis, we might drop our positive expectations: career, family, personal goals; and replace them with negative expectations: lack of mobility, exacerbations, and limitations.

For example: before my diagnosis, I intended to become a University professor. After my diagnosis, I dragged my feet because I assumed I wouldn’t be able to handle the rigorous testing due to memory issues. I replaced a positive expectation, “career goals,” with a negative one, “my memory prevents me from achieving.”

If you are like me, a late-bloomer, hopefully you know how to handle disappointment and also view perceived failures as learning experiences. Transfer that awareness to how you view your illness: manage your expectations away from the negative reasoning of “I can’t do this,” to positive “why not try it anyway?”

Often after a diagnosis, we work our way through grieving for our health. It’s a healthy and necessary process, but sometimes we decide to get stuck on the negative thinking. It’s easy to look at all we think we can’t do, rather than focus on what we can do.

But you might surprise yourself if you take a moment to release the expectations you place on yourself. Yes, you may be struggling to walk or get out of bed today because you physically cannot do so, but does that mean you should indulge in the negative expectations of what you can’t do?

No.

There was a time after my diagnosis where I didn’t think I could run or do anything active due to numbness and fatigue. I was in a negative expectation mindset. I actively decided to remove all expectations on myself and said, I can do something. It won’t look the same as a person without an autoimmune diagnosis, but it will be something.

The moment I removed all my expectations (negative and positive), I found I was able to achieve.

I actually found I went farther than before my diagnosis because I removed all expectations I placed upon myself and my abilities. Even when I was “healthy” I had numerous expectations that prevented me from achieving.

This is because when we manage our expectations by removing them, we remove the mental obstacles that prevent us from attempting in the first place. We go out and attempt to achieve without thinking about the limitations we might have. We may still stumble, but it isn’t a failure as much as it’s a learning experience.

If you were an early bloomer, this is your opportunity to bloom once again. Or, as it is in my case, my chance to bloom later in life.


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