Not that mom
My 4 yr old son, Josh, and I both have SPD. My biggest problems are tactile defensiveness and Vestibular Dysfunction. He, on the other hand, is an extreme sensory seeker. This is our story.
I have had major problems with touch since I can remember. I grew up with many siblings, and them just sitting next to me make my skin crawl. A light touch could send me over the edge, complete melt down, screaming, hitting and crying.
Certain fabrics had to be out of my reach ( biggest were satin and the sports jerseys), if I accidentally touched these, I would burst into hysterics. My poor mom wasn't even allowed to touch me most the time.
I cannot keep a relationship due to my problems, nor could I keep many friends. It has been a very hard and lonely life. it may help to say I actually just got diagnosed with SPD, as a child I was presumed to be a brat, over dramatic, and weird.
I struggled deeply with depression and anxiety as well since I was 10. When I was 24 I had my son who was a result of one night with a really good friend of mine. We still are good friends, but my SPD made it impossible for us to parent together, and we co parent amazingly.
Josh has Hypo-sensitivity to touch. He needs to be touched, hugged, kissed, he hits me, himself and other adults. He jumps off everything and anything and CRAVES dangerous situations. He runs away any chance he gets, and zones me out when I try to get him to come back or stop. He also is very emotional, takes any little rejection very personally.
I'm sure you can see it takes
a lot on my end to mother this sweet, loving little ball of energy. Some days I sit snuggling him, allowing him to give me kisses every two minutes, run with him outside and threw the house, jumping and laughing along with him, but those days are far too few for my like.
Most days are spent trying to survive the touching, using every ounce of energy I have to keep me from screaming "get off me and stop" when hes touching me, jumping on me, grabbing at me.
Most times by 6 pm I end up so flustered I put on a movie for him, sit as far away from him as possible and put him to bed by 730. Then I sit there and cry. I cry because I know I am not the mother he needs. I cry because I cant even enjoy the kisses and hugs most the time from my most precious gift I've ever received. I cry because chances are, I lost my cool at least once that day and snapped at him, or my cat, or someone else innocent. I cry for the future.
My worst fear is that hes gonna grow up and feel emotionally detached from me. I love my son with all my heart. He is my sole purpose for living. I try so hard to put my problems aside, but its just too hard sometimes. The days hes at his dad's, I lay on my couch and don't move, most of the time not even getting up to eat.
I make a promise to myself that when he gets home we will do "this and that" and have a great day. Then that day comes, hes in bed at 7:30 and I cry.