As you can see from my last two posts, I am not really a story teller. I don't do well with linear writing and it shows. I am not saying it is terrible writing, but it is not what I am comfortable with. It is reflected, in my opinion, by the substandard quality that has been my last two vacation posts. Keeping that in mind, we are returning to a more typical and comfortable style of writing for me. We are headed towards my inner caverns, feeling falls, and the dark and dense forest that dwells within. It isn't always comfortable for people, but it is what I know and write best. It is also a way for me to really look at how I am feeling, try to rationalize it or dismiss it, and bring myself some peace. So, without further ado, we shall resort to our regular programming.
Today I find myself very weepy. It isn't the kind where you read the hallmark card and cry, or see the television commercial that just manages to send your flood gates crashing open. It's the kind where you feel like maybe you are getting sick. The feeling that you are off. While I am coming down with something, it is nothing more than what I deal with regularly. It doesn't change that today has been hard for me. I am frustrated that I can't control things that I have never been able to control, like the weather. That frustration is turning into outright irritation, which is spreading to the whole family. I know it is irrational, but it is how I feel.
I find myself angry with random people online. They have all their pictures up about what they have been up to and where they went. They look so happy. Yes, I have mine up too. Yes, we have had a blast as a family on the last two camping trips. We loved them. We had so much fun just being a family, but we are family. What about friends? I am looking at all these people with their status' about how the family took the kids, their friends came over for the day, or their kids are having a sleepover at a friend's house. Do they know what they have? I don't think they do. So many things are taken for granted, but none more so than a network of family and friends.
I remember the days when, if I was ill or just not able to be the best parent I could be, there was someone there to step in and say, "Why don't I take the kids for a few hours. You get some sleep. I am sure that you will feel better." Those days are gone. Those friends are scattered to the four corners of the world. Occasionally, they send what amounts to a postcard from their lives, but they aren't here. The family is so concerned about how their limited time with the kids affects them, that they never stop to think what it feels like to live that life twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. They are just concerned about how their night will change, if they decide to take my kids.
I know it is my responsibility to raise them and I am not complaining. I love my kids. But, let's be honest here for a second. It isn't easy. I am often irritable, tired, and at the end of my rope. It is isolating. I have nobody to turn to because, if I say that I need a break, then I am not doing something right. They don't get it. The few who do are so far away, it is daunting. I have joked many times with online friends about creating a commune for families with autistic children. While most see it as a fantastic fairy tale, I see it as the possibility it really is. I know I am not alone in this.
Imagine a place where you aren't looked at strangely because of something your children do or say. A place where everybody actually understands what you are going through. A community that comes together to jump the hurdles and shit that autism throws our way together. A haven for friendships and support to flourish. It sounds so nice to me. A home where I could call the neighbor, who happens to be a close friend, and tell them, "Puck isn't home and it's really rough here right now. Do you think you can help me out?" To which, they not only respond in a manner that is supportive, they let you cry about it without feeling like an idiot, and if able to, are willing to help. I need that.
A personal world filled with autism is a lonely world. So, even though I am virtually not alone, here, in my home, I very much am this evening. That is a hard reality. It hurts. So, yeah, I am weepy. I can't make decisions. I cannot control my life. I am not currently capable of being the best parent I can be. Not only does that make me feel incredibly depressed, it increases that feeling of isolation. I have nobody to call. (At least, nobody to call that won't tell me how to fix the situation.) You can't fix autism, but you obviously can't fix stupid and ignorant either. I hate feeling this way. I need support beyond what Puck can give. Puck is a great source of support, but as the other half, is dealing with the same things.
People who don't get it would tell me to go out and make friends. You try making friends with the time schedules and difficulties that come with autism. You try wrangling two kids who could meltdown at any moment or are melting down into an outing they don't want to go to. It's not easy. I could go on forever. I guess I am weepy because I feel helpless and out of control. I feel alone. I feel the need to be alone. I don't even know what I want, because there is about a zero chance I would get it anyway. This life is hard.
For every good thing, there is a challenge. Our family understands this. It doesn't make that truth easier to bare. We need more social interaction. We aren't likely to get it anytime soon, beyond the computer, but we do need it. Today, I am weak. I am not at my best. I see those postcards and miss that part of life. You know the one. The part where you have friends to call and people to talk to that understand your life. Sometimes, I just miss it.
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