My anxiety and PTSD levels can be off the charts. I was never good with kids, but now when people bring kids into where I work I'm screaming inside and quietly turning to a co-worker and saying "Shoot me now." While it's been a good while since I had a call from the school (IEP says don't call me at work, call the sheriff's dept and let them handle her and I'll pick her up after work) I still freak when I hear a phone ring.
My own difficult child-ness comes out more, and I've learned more about my own as well as Kiddo's. I've learned more coping mechanisms for me (doesn't always work, but improving) and I keep trying to help her.
I'm learning to appreciate the little things in life. I've learned that there is more than one right way to do things. I've learned to appreciate small progress, because it IS progress. I'm learning to be more affectionate. I'm learning to pick my battles and that she is even more stubborn than I am (and she's often less tired than me, too).
I've learned I can never have the life I envisioned for myself and I doubt she can ever have the life I originally envisioned for her. I had to create a new one, and I hope that one day she can just be independent and happy. I didn't live up to my potential and I have grave doubts she will, either. Smart as she is, with all the help she has, I still fear she will dependent on me to some degree and I won't live forever. Heck I lack the executive functioning skills for my own financial planning, I can't handle her financial future, too.
But some days I have hope, and some times I have happiness, and I've learned to not take those times for granted any more.