In my case, I’m dealing with an emotional terrorist.

Though I learned much through my university studies on terrorism, I am ill prepared when it comes to the emotional kind. (I must admit, I’d likely be ill prepared for the state sponsored kind too.)

The victim of this terrorism is my daughter. My sweet, innocent daughter. The aggressor doesn’t realize his folly.

I was so very hopeful that the custody and child support settlement would provide a bit of reprieve from the constant berating and badgering I was receiving. But not only has it continued, it has escalated in this past month.

I shouldn’t be surprised. I really shouldn’t. But I guess I’m just a sucker for optimism.

My little girl is such an empath. I don’t have the luxury of having a bad day, of being sick, or giving up. I guess that almost every good parent would agree with that, special needs or not. You have to show up for your kid and do your best every day. Even if your best that day is plopping them in front of a tv show so you can do the dishes, or have a cup of coffee, in peace.

So I suck it up (in front of my child). I manage. I try to keep the peace – for Lily’s sake. For my sake. But what this ends up looking like is giving in. Giving in to the constant requests. Because if I don’t, I know that I won’t be allowed to take her to visit Grandma in Florida, or go on a business trip to ensure my career continues to progress or… or… or…

There is always going to be something. The custody agreement clearly provides guidance on the holidays and birthdays, but for ‘special events’, it’s not so cut and dry.

I’m truly hopeful that one day this terrorism ends so that I don’t have to waste any unnecessary energy trying to keep my cool in front of my kid (or my employees!) in the midst of a show-down with this terrorist. I want to focus all of my energy on loving my girl, loving my family and friends, loving my job and loving myself.

I know this isn’t one of my typical posts. But I’m sharing this for a few reasons. I need to get this off my chest. I need to make sense of the insanity. And I need to start fresh in February. I need to start holding my ground and stopping the negotiations with this terrorist. And it may mean missing a family event from time to time, or maybe finding a nanny or friend who can watch Lily for a few days when I travel. I’m not sure. But it has to change.

And the first step to making a change is acknowledging that something isn’t working. This isn’t working. Not for me. And especially not for my girl.

What is that saying? Everyone is the center of their own universe? Well, maybe in my case Lily is the center of my universe.  But generally speaking, so many people are so focused on themselves and their issues that they can’t see past the end of their nose.

I have always lived my life in service of others.  From a very early age, I was interested in, and genuinely concerned about the well-being of others.  I was the kid who would make Christmas and Hanukkah cards for the toll collectors when we drove into the city on Christmas Day (though I was always too shy to hand them out).  I am still this kid.  I walk around and see where help is needed, and I help.  Whether it’s offering my seat to a pregnant woman on the subway or helping an elderly person with their grocery bags, helping others – and sometimes (especially when they’re strangers!) not asking for anything in return – has always been deeply engrained in my being.

It is because of this that I often have a difficult time trying to reconcile the selfish and sometimes hurtful actions and words of people who are near and dear to me.  Let me be clear.  I realize that I am not the center of their universe.  But if someone sees me struggling, offering me a ‘how can I help?’ instead of giving me a look of pity would go a really long way.  I don’t need pity.  I need help.

The pity, the ‘I don’t know how you do it’ comments, the watching me struggle and not offering a helping hand or just the plain old silence of an unanswered email or an unfulfilled promise – these things sting me so deeply.   And I can promise you that these kinds of actions, or inactions, sting others as well.

Have compassion.  Take your blinders off.  Realize that there is a whole lot of things going on around you – some of it miraculous, some of it sad – and see if there’s a way you can help grow that miracle, or ease the sadness of another person.

‘Serve. Love. Give. Purify. Meditate. Realize.’  This is the motto of Swami Vishnu that I strive to live by – though I have an especially hard time these days with the ‘meditate’ part.  I, too, am a work in progress after all.

Om tat sat.

“Your child is going to die soon,” he alluded.

It started out as an innocuous enough conversation. Yesterday afternoon my landlord and I were talking on the phone about my move-out date, which is still not set in stone as I am still not 100% sure as to where we will be moving next month.

Over the past two years my landlord and I have become somewhat friendly. He knows that my L has some developmental issues and that we’ve been in the hospital a few times. He knows that I’m going through a tough legal battle with L’s dad. He knows that I’m a good and spiritual person. And that I pay my rent on time.

And normally, I think he is a decent person. He has been a kind a landlord. Until yesterday.

Oh yesterday. Yesterday I wanted to punch him in the face. Hard. He casually asked me how L was doing. It’s sometimes difficult to answer – especially on weeks like this when her hand function is low. So I guess I paused, and then said, ‘she is doing fine’.

He didn’t miss a beat. The first time he alluded that my daughter will live a short life, I brushed it off. As best I could. As best as anyone could. But then when he waxed on and on – and on – about how these sweet little kids burn bright, so bright that their light goes out before ours and “these kids” have learned all the lessons from the universe early and then they leave this world, well – I had a really tough time letting go. But I just “ah-ha’ed” him and “ok’ed” him. For a few reasons:

1. I want my $3500 security deposit back.

2. It was the middle of the day and I had back to back work meetings following this conversation. I didn’t have time to lose my shit.

3. I know he was trying to be kind. But wow, did it backfire.

So I carried on with my day. As best as I could. And I felt sick all day. I still do.

It didn’t help that I heard about a young girl dying earlier in the day due to complications from Rett. It didn’t help that I’m feeling so much anxiety about the future – excluding the issue of mortality. Where will we live? Will I be granted full custody on Monday? Will Mom make it home from Italy safely? What will our lives look like when L starts preschool? Will I be typecast as a vixen if I take this role which I jokingly auditioned for and was then offered a part in a film that 55,000 people at my Company will be required to watch? What if spellcheck on my iPhone makes the same mistake and I accidentally send out another text which states “I can’t wait to urinate on you!”?

All of these are real concerns. They are tangible. And damned if I let spellcheck, or my landlord, rain on mine and L’s parade.