Bridges to Brave
written by Jessica Patay
"Our stories are bridges that connect us, reminding us of our shared humanity."
For almost 15 years of sharing my own personal story about mothering Ryan, age 20 now, with Prader-Willi syndrome, I have found strength in solidarity. I have found strength in knowing that my struggles and celebrations are mirrored in others. I know what it feels like to receive incredible validation and kind support after sharing episodes of altered motherhood. Or over-sharing, that is.
I want this for other caregiving mothers. I wanted this so badly, I launched WABT in 2017. I yearned for others to receive as well, so a couple years ago a new dream was born: create an anthology, from the community of WABT moms, and offer other moms a chance to be seen, heard and validated. Not only as a caregiving mom, but as a WRITER. Because all writers doubt their ability to string two words together eloquently and beautifully, no matter how hard they try. I understood that.
As a lover of words my whole life, I wanted someone to see something in me, my words, my stories. Not just appreciate my truth-telling, but my ability to write. I will never forget when I started blogging, (forever ago when it was the IT THING TO DO), when I received my first comment via email from my WordPress blog. Someone read my piece! Someone liked my piece! She said I was a great writer. Really?????? Someone besides my husband and writing group think I am decent at this? Wow. I was so touched and empowered to write more! And so, I did.
The honest sharing of stories breeds connections. Real connections. Soul connections. Bone marrow connections. Transparency and vulnerability I believe are keys to healing, to deep, life-giving relationships and to providing validation to others’ experiences. As they say in THEY magazine, “your stories are someone else’s survival guide.”
This first anthology from WABT is meant for you to find yourself in these stories. In the trenches of caregiving. Full of emotions, exhaustion, and intense experiences. As you witness shared strength, resilience, compassion, and tears, you will be buoyed. At least that is my hope. And you will know, down to your bones, that you are NOT ALONE.
That community and connection will save you, too, if it hasn’t already.
There are millions of caregiving moms in this country, not to mention worldwide numbers! We are fiercely in love with our children. And… we are drowning. Because our lives have survived a massive shift into the disability or medically complex or mental health world, and we live with ongoing traumatic stress. Because we are under mountains of paperwork, medical appointments, therapy appointments, IEP meetings, person-centered-planning meetings, state agency calls, not to mention the actual caring of our children/teen/adults with extra or exponential needs. It’s a lot. It’s too much.
And we want the world to hear the beautiful and the brutal sides of caregiving. We want to share our hearts, our daily lives, our concerns, and our triumphs. Each inchstone achieved in the life of a child battling a developmental, genetic, medical, psychiatric, or educational disability or diagnosis matters.
We celebrate each one.
Each setback also pushes the grief buttons, the what-ifs, and the worry buttons. It feels like we are not only navigating systems and services for our children, but also, navigating our own tsunami of emotions and thoughts, while living an isolated and sometimes very lonely life. It’s a lot. It’s too much. Unless we come together in community and bravely share our stories.
