Excuses, Excuses

It’s a good excuse. Always works for a cluck of sympathy. It’s always there, ready to use, built in. I could be complaining about never finishing my writing projects, or not getting the house fixed up, or feeling perennially sleep-deprived. I could be apologizing for not returning a phone call for months, or for being snappish and grumpy. There’s always a ready response: "That’s understandable...considering." No need to say what there is to consider. I have a special needs child. What more excuse do I need?

For soothing the sorrow of broken dreams and assuaging the guilt for unfulfilled social obligations, this one excuse works pretty well. To an extent. Then I’ll meet someone in a much harder situation, who manages to get work done, maintain the house, get enough sleep, is cheerful and socially responsible. My excuse starts to pale. Afterall, everyone has difficulties. It’s amazing that anyone gets anything done in this world considering back pain and backed-up sinuses, panic attacks, over-demanding bosses, dying parents, crippling childhoods. And we won't even go into war, poverty, hunger, which exist on an entirely different plane of excuses. The point is, we all have an excuse. Well, not everyone. There do seem to be those glowing personages who had happy childhoods and lead happy, fulfilling lives, spawning an atmosphere of relaxation and happiness wherever they go. Those people actually provide the rest of us with another excuse. How can we possibly get on with our lives with the undue pressure and moldering resentment of having Mr. or Mrs. Happy around? But I digress.

Let’s get back to my excuse. My perfect excuse. Having a special needs child--children, actually--excuses all my shortcomings and missteps. I’m exempt. As are all parents of special needs kids. Recently, I confided to an old friend that I had never kept up ties with a particular guy because one night, years ago, he had tried (unsuccessfully) to force himself on me. My friend regarded me sternly. "You do know," she paused, "that both of his kids have Downs Syndrome?" What could I say? Obviously, the guy’s excused. Really. Never mind that one thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other, and that his trying to have his way with me was only one item on a long list of offenses, I found myself immediately thinking better of him, and feeling that it was high time I let go of old grudges.

I wonder how far this excuse extends? So you raped, murdered, pillaged? Have a special needs kid! You’re off the hook! All right, so maybe that excuse won’t work for everything. But if you reject the excuse, the flip side is this: he deserves it. Not a judgement I’m willing to pass. Deserve to have special needs kids? That would mean that everyone deserves the hardships that befall them. That life is fair and logical. Or--more absurd--that my own special needs kids, whom I love and cherish and feel lucky to have, are punishment--for my past misbehaviors, no less. Hah! Makes more sense for me to forgive the guy because, well, it’s understandable...considering. Works for me.