Loving Fiercely, Loathing Honestly: Complex Emotions in the Special Needs Community

The other week, I came across a post in one of the special needs groups I follow on Facebook that immediately caught my attention. I only briefly skimmed it but had a gut feeling it wouldn’t land well with the community. While I understood where the poster was coming from, I also felt the message could have been communicated better—perhaps with a deeper awareness of the complicated emotions that come with being a parent of a child with special needs.

The post essentially said the following:

The poster expressed feeling deeply bothered and upset by the strong and powerful emotions that some members of the group had, which they occasionally shared about their children. Specifically, the poster took issue with how some parents vented about the profound difficulties, overwhelming challenges, and even brutal realities of caring for their children. They commented that they were appalled at what they perceived as anger and hatred in some of the posts and were horrified by the negativity. The poster went on to say it angered them to see parents in the group expressing what they interpreted as resentment toward their kids.

As you can imagine, the community was outraged. Members were horrified that someone would accuse them of not loving or caring for their children. Many felt insulted that, despite the sacrifices they make and the immeasurable love they pour into their families, someone would judge them so harshly. The group’s collective response was swift and unequivocal: the poster should no longer be allowed in the community. After all, this was supposed to be a safe space where parents could vent their innermost feelings and emotions without fear of judgment.

Later that day, I circled back to the group and saw that the post had been taken down, but the comments continued to roll in. I found myself in an emotional tug-of-war. On the one hand, I felt deeply for the poster, imagining how vulnerable they must have felt to share their perspective only to face intense backlash. On the other hand, I empathized with the community’s reaction. Their frustrations were valid, and their emotional responses reflected the raw and unique challenges we face as parents of children with special needs.

I thought about that post for a while and realized a few things.

Over the years, there have been times when I’ve found myself so deeply angry at my daughter—so enraged at her behavior—that I didn’t recognize the feelings I was sitting with. I’ve had moments where I’ve been consumed by what felt like the most horrific thoughts and emotions about our situation. For years, these feelings confused me and weighed on me heavily. I felt guilty and ashamed, and I tried to combat them by reframing my experiences. I focused on gratitude, on how well I had handled certain situations, or on the positives.

But there came a time when I simply couldn’t do that anymore. My daughter’s behaviors had taken a toll on me, and I couldn’t reframe them or see them in any positive light at all. Plain and simple: I despised her behaviors. I loathed what they were doing to her and to our family.

And then, slowly, I realized something that changed everything:

My daughter is not her behaviors, and her behaviors are not my daughter.

The behaviors that I hated and loathed were separate from her. They were like an invader that took over and attacked her from time to time. What I despised wasn’t her—it was those behaviors and the destruction they left in their wake.

But my daughter? I love her with every fiber of my being. I love her sweetness, her innocence, her good nature, and her boundless love for everyone she meets. My commitment to ensuring her needs are met is unwavering and unparalleled.

What I’ve learned over time is that these two completely different feelings—love and loathing—can coexist. And that’s okay. I can love my daughter fiercely yet loathe what her behaviors do to her and to us in the same breath. This dynamic is almost impossible to explain to someone who doesn’t live this life or who is new to it.

It takes years—sometimes decades—to fully understand and make peace with this reality, and even longer to let go of the shame that comes with it. If I had to guess, the poster who shared their thoughts in the group was new to this journey. They likely didn’t yet appreciate that the anger and frustration shared by the parents in the community weren’t about their children. It was about hating what the syndrome, the diagnosis, or the behaviors were doing to their children.

As a community, we need spaces where we can process these feelings openly and without judgment. And for those who are new to this life, I hope they can give themselves—and others—the grace to learn, grow, and understand.