Letters I never sent 
Over the summer, we will be sharing with you several letters, the letters never sent. Some to total strangers, some to practitioners and some to friends and family. Some we will post anonymously and others will link to the author’s blog.
My dear friends that are mothers of typical children i have something I need to tell you.
I know at time’s you feel you can’t give me the right support , or that you don’t know what to say when I tell you something. That without the experience of mothering a disabled child you are lost in that world of conversation. I think sometimes you feel talking about your typical children will fill me with sadness, that talking of your child’s achievements is not what I want to hear.
But dear friends of mine i love to hear you talk of your daughters ballet class or your sons maths exam. When you tell me about your toddler drawing on the cat, that is exactly what I want to hear. Together we try to understand the impossible mind’s of our teenagers. Please don’t ever hold back on your child’s achievements, to see you beam with pride as you talk is a pleasure.
When you just lend me your ear as I tell you about my son’s regression, as I sob about the meltdowns and how heartbroken I am watching my child in pain.
When I lay my head on your shoulder exhausted and you let us sit in silence. That is exactly what I need.
And please don’t hesitate to call on me when you need an ear to listen or a shoulder to lean on, I’ll be there.
When I call you asking for some adult time ” I just want to be me for a little while ” you’re there waiting with wine. We laugh and mess around, reminisce about the time we drank a whoo whoo fish bowl then walked home with our heels in our hands. I know I can rant to you ” I’ve had enough today” And that you would never think any less of me.
When I demand “just pack me off to that deserted island where cocktails and chocolate grow on trees ” we laugh together because jeez who wouldn’t want to be on that island!
Our nights at the cinema, popcorn in hand, left hanging near our gaping mouths, eyes fixed , mesmerised by what’s in front of us. That time is my pick me up that will get me through the appointment the next day.
The conversations of make up, tattoos, needing to loose a few lbs and the washing basket that breeds dirty clothes . I look forward to those chats.
You see dear friend, this life i lead with my beautiful non verbal son is so full of appointments and talks of disability aids and educational plans. I’m exhausted and overwhelmed at times, but also blissfully happy, filled with love and pride, seeing the strength of my disabled son and wise caring mind’s of my other children.
This life i lead is not all tough, it’s actually quite stunning too. I’m also pretty good at it. .. Ha look at me having a burst of confidence.
Everyone i know and love has a very special part in my life, I need each and everyone of them. And my dear friend I really need you as well.
You are my breath of normality, my listening ear, my reminder that I’m still me.
You are my chance of loosing myself In silly girly chats, you are the hands pulling the band from my hair letting it down.
You are the person at the receiving end of my texts. You’re just what I need.
From your blissfully happy frazzled friend
Today’s letter comes from the lovely NN over at Autism and Duanes Syndrome Awareness.
If you have a letter you would like to share, one you never sent, then please email it to email@example.com and let us know if you wish it to remain anonymous or to link back to your own site.