Eggshell Doctrine

During torts class in law school I learned about the eggshell doctrine. It states that if someone is injured due to to another person's negligence, the perpetrator is still responsible even if the victim is unusually fragile or vulnerable. "Take them as you find them." This may be true in law, but it hasn't trickled over into society's approach to so-called invisible disabilities. I feel like there's a connection here to Ableism that I would like to make when I'm feeling stronger.

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Today was farm camp for B & C. Despite reviewing the day's plan last night, C was adamant that he did not want to go when he woke up this morning. We arrived at the farm late, and C stayed in the car while I got B sorted. Someone in charge asked about C, and I cried. "We're so close," I said. So, so close. I didn't feel like fighting C on something that was supposed to be fun, though, especially something fun that cost $300. Thank god we can get a refund.

Instead of farm camp, we visited our friend's house that boasts a snake, birds, two cats, and chickens. It was a lovely interlude, and after a couple of hours we said our goodbyes and headed home for lunch. And then, when C refused lunch and started whining and I tried to set boundaries and curb the whining, things spiraled. Tears, blocking himself in his room, hitting himself, saying he's a bad boy, he wants to die, he hates himself, he wants to hurt himself. Just a well of sadness that unfortunately mirrored my own. It was awful, and our collective depressive episode lasted a good couple of hours. I fed him bites of watermelon, two an hour, and we tried to read.

I'm so sad. I know kids talk about death and wanting to die, but this has been going on for several years. We've had a lot of joy and progress over the last calendar year, but this summer has reminded me that it's still a daily struggle to maintain our mental health and get out the door in the morning. I tried to empathize with C this afternoon; I shared that his dad and I have both felt deeply sad before and wanted to hurt ourselves, too, but when he asked follow-up questions I didn't feel it was age-appropriate to share the story of my anorexia or J's cutting. I don't want to give him more ideas.

I drank water, I talked with my dear friend, I left a message with C's doctor (maybe we need to increase his meds?). We managed to pick B up on time, despite the fight to get C back in the car. C finally ate a peanut butter honey sandwich and drank some water.

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What is the meaning of life? Seriously. Most of the time I'd say relationships, nature, art, music, books. But what about underneath all of that, all of the things we do to create meaning? What is the intrinsic meaning or purpose? I can look to neuroscience or philosophy or religion, but when I'm depressed all of the theories seem circular.

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I just got off the phone with C's developmental pediatrician, or rather the nurse affiliated with the practice. She's wonderful. I shared as much as I could, and she's going to check in with the doctor and call me back.

I don't know if what I wrote makes sense. All I know is my heart breaks for my son, and I'm terrified of the future.

I feel like each person in our family has eggshell-thin skin. The other day, I was thinking about helmets and how it seems like I'm going through life with a small piece of memory foam on my head instead of the standard-issue Styrofoam shell. Every impact, every emotion that I feel or my children express lodges deep and leaves an imprint. We are all so very fragile. How are we going to get through this life in one piece without being shattered on a daily basis?