I'm not a particularly open person. I don't really like to tell anyone what I'm feeling. I'm almost pathologically averse to taking anyone's advice, and when I'm overwhelmed it's too emotionally draining to share.
That's why I love the Diaries. I can type what's happening and send it out into the ephemera that is the internet, devoid of actual conversation and tear-stains. Sometimes kind people read a post and offer encouragement or insight which I can heed or ignore, but I'm always bolstered by the mere act of writing. I think it's a little like praying.
I'm posting tonight for the first time since February because I'm very sad. And reading my last post made me cry a little more because I feel like I haven't made any progress at all. In reality, that isn't true, because I was spending this week getting all my children ready for school. One returns to college on Thursday, Two moves into his dorm on Sunday, Three begins junior year next week, and, miraculously, Four and Five agreed to attend the charter school in my county. But today I got a call from the special education coordinator there saying they couldn't accommodate Four's needs.
Originally, it was our intent to try and enroll Five because the school is geared to so many of his interests. But after attending an open house and speaking with their director, we decided to submit an application for Four as well. During vacation I received the call that Four was admitted, but Five was still third on the waiting list. I was very hesitant to enroll only one of them, so I was thrilled when two students withdrew and Five got accepted as well! I really felt like the Universe was yelling at me, assuring me it was the right decision. I took the boys for a tour, nervous that Four would be critical, but at the end he was the first one to say it seemed great. I was so happy they would be attending together, bolstering one another, sharing the experience.
Today the coordinator explained that she didn't realize Four had been at a private school, in small classes with support. As a small charter school they don't have those resources; they don't even have aides in the classrooms. They do have small group instruction in some of the subjects, but they are very concerned that Four won't have the support he needs to be successful. Tonight, when I told Four about the school's concerns, he said, "I can adapt. I can deal with the larger class," and I had to explain that the school still might not take him. "Figures," he said. "We finally find the perfect school and I can't go." My heart almost broke. He wants to try and I want to give him that chance, but I know the school is going to say legally they can't provide the right supports, and I have to decide whether to fight.
My last post was about how much Four hated school, and this one is about how much he wants to go and can't. We haven't even told Five yet because I have to mentally gird myself for his reaction. He may not want to go if Four can't, and then we're back to square one. Why does everything have to be so hard? Every time I get through a crisis another one flares. These last three years have stripped me bare.
I'm weary. Weary of placing my faith in others. Weary of soldiering on. Weary of holding everyone together. Weary of believing everything will be okay.
I know it exists, but it's hard to see the happy ending right now through the tears.