Our Land: Am I a Glass Child?

Today’s Our Land post has been written by a lovely and amazing person, who has generously contributed to The Land of Empathy and Wonder in the past. With the following post, she’s choosing to remain anonymous. Her anonymity obviously takes nothing away from her powerful and amazing words. I hope that you’ll let her know how important her words are, here. Because honestly? I read this three times in a row and still feel goosebumps. And power. And well. Here, see for yourself.

Our Land: Am I a Glass Child?

As the parent of a special needs child, who had many medical complexities that automatically qualified him for the best of care and services from the minute he was home from the hospital, I’ve always felt supported in my special needs child’s care.

Where I’ve felt less supported is in the care of my typical needs son.  Whenever I have expressed concerns about the impact on him, nearly every single person has shrugged off my concerns, and said “he’ll be fine, kids are resilient.”  These responses have brought out a rage in me that I had a hard time understanding.  I didn’t say much in response, but the sarcastic smartass who lives in my head quickly retorted, “Yes, I’m sure letting him fester with those bad feelings is great for his long-term resiliency.”

The funny thing is, I’m not a person who holds much in.  If I feel strongly about something, I will typically defend my case.  On this topic, however, I kept quiet. Still, each “he’s fine” kicked me in the gut.  Finally, my concerns were validated; my son’s teacher referred him for an evaluation by the mental health team at his school.  She too was noticing some differences in him…very classic differences in siblings who deal with chronically ill brothers and sisters.  After the evaluation, he was enrolled in a play therapy program and, over time, we are starting to see improvements in his coping abilities.

As he improved, I thought my anger would diminish.  Someone heard me and we are getting the help our son needs.  It’s still a work in progress, but I’m really proud of how, with help, my son has proven to be resilient.  However, my anger about people disregarding it still lingers.

I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I was so angry about society’s nonchalance to the needs of a sibling of a child with special needs until I came across Alicia Arenas’ Ted Talk, “Recognizing Glass Children.”  Alicia is a sibling to two special needs brothers and she talks about her story in hopes of making more people aware of the impact of the sibling.

I was drawn to the video with my son in mind, and as Alicia talked, I did recognize him in her words.  I also realized that I recognized myself.  As she spoke, I thought back to the quiet little girl that I was…the one who was always “the good girl.”  The very next memory was of me being 22 and just out of college, living alone for the first time – alone with my thoughts – and I remember writing this.

On the next page I continued, “When do I get to be the one who screws up?  When do get to make the wrong decision and just think about myself and what I want in each moment?  When do I get to be the selfish one?”  With the memory of these words came the realization that I, too, was a glass child.  By Alicia’s definition, glass children are not given their name because they are weak.  On the contrary, they tend to be very strong.  They are given the name glass children, because they are often looked through, rather than being truly seen.

I’m the youngest in my family.  I have two older brothers.  My eldest brother had severe dyslexia and even more severe anger problems.  He was always in fights, always rebelling against my parents and terrible in school.  I now believe his anger stemmed a lot from the fact that he too, is a glass child.  When he was two our second brother was born extremely prematurely and had several years of medical needs.  Even when this preemie brother outgrew his medical conditions, he still had the typical preemie behavior problems.  I’ve been told, researchers are starting to lump preemies into their own behavior group – in some ways it resembles ADHD and in other ways bi-polar.  My earliest memories are of this middle brother being in and out of the principal’s office.  As we got older he was often in and out of the backseat of cop cars.  My parents also had some issues.  My dad was a serial cheater and even though I was too young to know exactly what was going on, no child is too young to realize when their parent’s relationship is strained.  My mom was molested as a child and has struggled with mental health issues her entire adult life.  Complicating matters, my parents were often stressed on how to raise my brothers.  They didn’t feel the school district was helping and so they spent a lot of time trying to get them the help they needed.

I don’t want to make it seem like I had no time or attention from my parents as a child.  I did, and I knew I was loved, but so often, it was just expected that I would be the good one.  One brother was in learning disability classes, the other in behavior disability classes and I was in gifted and talented.  It was assumed I could take care of myself and keep focused on being “good” and “smart.”  I spent a lot of time alone in my room reading and writing…being good.

As if being a tall, rail thin twelve year old girl with a grown woman set of boobs wasn’t awkward enough, it was also when I was that age that the thin thread holding our family together started to unravel.  My parents finally separated, my oldest brother ran away and stayed with a friend’s family for a while and then had a brief stint in the military (his rebellious nature made him a bad recruit), my middle brother started getting into the real trouble that had cops coming around and my dad had the great idea that if one anti-depressant made him feel better, the entire bottle might really do the trick.  The following year my mom had a nervous breakdown and, so, in a little more than a year, I had both parents spend month-long stays in the psych-ward.

As Alicia Aranas’ described a glass child, she described me; I was good, I was responsible, I did what I was supposed to do and, even as the youngest child, did my best to take care of everyone else… all while feeling incredibly invisible.  To me, it felt like our family was drama 1, drama 2, drama 3, drama 4 and then me, the afterthought.

Unlike, Alicia Aranas (whose brothers’ needs were much more significant than mine) I never had thoughts of suicide.  I didn’t have mental health issues growing up or really even as an adult.  To most, I probably seem like a pretty typical person.  I’d probably be considered a “good case” outcome of a glass child.  I’m still quite responsible, sometimes really stubborn and over time, I found ways to make sure I felt heard (typically by being smartass).  I can also say, being a glass child is lonely even as an adult surrounded by friends and a family of her own.  I have zero idea of how to ask for help.  I never want to impose and my expectation is that only I will take care of me.  Clearly that’s a struggle in my marriage – my husband wants to think I need him in some ways too.  Of course, I do, but I’m not sure how to show it.  Fortunately he loves me in spite of this issue.

As soon as I could, I moved out of my hometown.  I wanted away from my family and their drama.  I still live away from my family and I love them, but I keep a degree of distance.  I like feeling opaque.  Even today, when I’m with them, I feel more transparent.

I never want my son to feel transparent.  I feel like we’re making some great steps with him being in play therapy.  My husband and I work to make sure he gets one-on-one time with both of us.  We make an effort, but I know he still feels his needs get placed behind his brother’s.  Our efforts in our family will continue and I don’t want to stop there.  It’s important to keep having this conversation because kids like him and me and so many others; we deserve to be seen.

We deserve for our hurt and emotional needs to be acknowledged and we should not just be expected to outgrow that hurt.  Yes, kids are resilient, they are also human and our brightest hope for the future, so let’s help them feel opaque.

Please, don’t forget the emotional needs of the siblings.