One of the best things about this blog is that it allows me to go back to a specific time and see what my actual thoughts were at a specific point on this journey. As I begin to read the first sentence of my previous posts I am actually transported back in time to the exact moment I wrote the words for the first time. The brain is such a fascinating tool in that sense, capable of triggering memories so vividly and easily. When I read some of my posts I think about how the feelings I had are still the same to me now. There are a lot of posts that still leave me unsure, while others leave me almost annoyed with how naive I once was. I guess all the emotions are just a true representation of the stages a person can go through while on a journey such as this one. The good, the bad, the ugly...but all the truth.
Prior to beginning this post I decided to view some of my writings from last June. "Wonder", "Hope", "Experience", just three examples of the names of posts written during CDKL5 Awareness month in 2015. It is a year later and I could easily write sequels to each one, but they would probably be headed in completely different directions. When I read my older posts I can almost believe the actual hope and the actual belief in a miracle I once had. I can still feel the certainty I once had that Sonzee would defy the odds and she would excel in areas that previously diagnosis children had not. Part of me pities my older self for thinking those words could actually become our reality, Sonzee's reality. The other part of me is so angry that I no longer have faith in those wishful words.
I actually feel ashamed for admitting that aloud. It makes me feel like a bad person for acknowledging that I currently don't have any hope or belief in a cure for Sonze, or that I actually do not expect her to defy the odds. It makes me feel so weak, like I have let this disorder take the dreamer out of me. It makes me feel like I am letting people down because I am not as strong as people consider me to be. Then on the flip side I feel justified that I am not living in a fantasy land of maybes, could be's, or what ifs. That doesn't do any good for myself, for our family, or especially for Sonze. It makes me feel strong that I am able to be honest and realistic about such a devastating disorder and not sleep away my life or want to hide away from the world. It makes me feel like I am letting people know it is okay to be true to their feelings and that there is no correct way to deal with a diagnosis such as a CDKL5 mutation.
This ride is turning into more of a "Tower of Terror" experience. Moving around on the ground floor, then going upwards until finally you are located in the elevator shaft. You brace yourself ready for the great 13 floor drop only for the drop sequence to be randomized for each elevator car. So you find yourself going up and down never really certain how far you will actually drop each time or how many times you will fall during your single ride. One thing is certain, you will eventually fall 199 feet and land safely at the bottom of the elevator shaft.
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