"Who Am I"

Reality is fundamentally non-fiction, however when I found I was facing indescribable daily occurrences, my non-fictional reality became completely illusory. This illusionary life required me to master the art of compartmentalizing; it had become the second and third person of me and I believed this process was necessary for my salvation. However it only provided an escape, it did not provide the knowledge that I needed to connect the divided me to a singular entity with a definable definition.

In having no identifying connection to my own direction or purpose I was unknowingly compounding the illusory factors that governed my life. Subconsciously I knew that to find my own required answers I would need to unravel all the meticulously created files that were of my own creation and had taken years to orchestrate.

The process of de-compartmentalizing in my mind did not entail finding a perfect daily balance: it was strictly an avenue of finding the point of integration, or more precisely the cross over in this unknown personal definition. I knew this separate person was my own divided creation and I knew internally that I was the product of my environment. The simplicity of this was my environment had coordinated my behavior and my personality became completely compatible with my environment.

The conclusive evidence brought forth the understanding that the divided "me" was the byproduct of an environmental change. But when and how had I become this byproduct, what had occurred to bring forth this life altering transformation and division?

Having the time to find who I was within the parameters of how I had to function seemed like a simple process, but yet trying to achieve this while in the middle of ever changing chaos was a complex endeavor. I had become so preconditioned to this existence and so cut off from worldly extravagances that pertain to any form of self that I never gave it much thought; I just was because I just had to be. I couldn't escape this feeling of consumption, my mind would not let me enter into this zone of I need or I desire, my whole focus was strictly on my ability to persevere myself within this world and was limited to a moment to moment bases. "Me" as the singular had become the insignificant irrelevant factor, who was required to function without an identity.

The moment I internally accepted that I had lost myself and my identity I became radically charged with needing to know the; who's and why's of how this had transpired. I now faced this reality of literally needing to connect the dots of occurrences in my life; I needed to go beyond just existing, I needed to have my own individuality.

The inner need to find myself or the explanations to my existence began as stolen moments away, contemplating how I ended up being who I am? How did I get here? Everything that happens to us can indeed create who we are, unless we decide differently and have the desire and the ability to change it; the stark simplicity of preventability and that unambiguous harsh reality of responsibility.

The basic question of "Who am I?" started with what I deemed as a small insignificant answer. My first conclusive response was "I am a Mom" however that simple insignificant answer opened the flood gates to the reality of "What and Who" being this Mom entails.

"So who am I?" I am a Mom to child with multiple disabilities, who assiduously tries to enable my Child to succeed; I am always proactively trying to find suitable supports. I have become exhausted within a society that has little understanding, I am a Mom who has been on more than one occasion referred to as the one who just does not understand that there are no supports; there are no programs and interventions. Those spoken words that I listened to regularly, "You Have To Understand; It Is Beyond Our Control There Are No Supports", I ignored them and tried again, hoping beyond hope that they were mistaken and that my Child and myself would be supplied with what we desperately needed.

I am a Mom who many have attempted to avoid; I am depicted as opinionated, pushy, relentless and persistently demanding. I have witnessed the looks when I enter a room, I pack the attitude. I have to, I have no choice; I have a child impacted by FASD! I am impacted by FASD! My life is no longer the depicted status quo of normal; I am not your average Mom. I want to be perceived as intimidating; I have a Child who relies on my ability to achieve all that is required just to function without turmoil and have some semblance of success.

I am a Mom who lives in fear that her Child will be used, mistreated and or victimized. I am a Mom who desires the best for her Child, I spend every day in the prevention mode, the teaching mode, the external brain mode, I am the tool my Child depends on to make it through the day. My Child lives in fear of the day I won't be there, and I live in the fear of the day that I can't protect my Child. "Welcome to this life of FASD."

This Child that I fear for every day is an adopted Child, who I love very deeply and cherish with all my heart. This Child has constituted the foundation for me to utilize the strengths that even I never predicted or fathomed that I would have within. Although I have to admit the journey I had to travel to achieve this inner strength was a hair raising experience!

In becoming this parent I was never provided the appropriate manual to raise a child diagnosed with this disability and I have yet to find that specific manual that would or could guide me through the throes of FASD. I live in a society that is so diverse and has many self help books and diagnostic guides but yet here I sit still trying to figure out each moment that presents itself. FASD has so many faces and disguises that in order to achieve the pretence of a perfect balance in my life, my only option is to read the whole library and even then something new will present itself and I am back to the drawing board. I am a Mom who lives precariously off balance "I have to" "I have no choice" this is my precarious norm.

When the wonderful opportunity came forth to have another child, I thought the only thing I needed to take into consideration was whether I was up to being a parent again as my only Child at the time was already fifteen. There was no disclosure or conversation pertaining to the possibilities of FASD; I was unaware of the disability and completely blind and ignorant to the affects of alcohol on the unborn child.

This factor alone was hard for me to comprehend; how can this be so hidden, when in fact FASD has really been a known disability and a factor for many since the early seventies. How can my Child be born in the late nineties having this as a factor? Why is it so secretive? Why is it so with-held from the general population? All valid questions; although the answers are all written within the confines of systematic bureaucracy, that entail complex...