I feel like I’ve been buried alive and I am barely breathing, stuck under six feet of snow with no clue which way is up. I continue to claw at the ice until my fingers are numb and bleeding and all I have managed to do is get lost further in the snow.
|That’s what this week feels like. I can’t breath, I can’t think… I feel like I am drowning. I feel like nothing I do is right and I can’t win. It’s time’s like these that I wish I had a sign on my forehead that said “I am NOT as bad a parent as you think I am” Even though I don’t really care what anyone else thinks, I still care what everyone else thinks. It’s the same mechanism that keeps me from going outside in my underwear or picking up my son at school in a moo-moo. I can tell you I don’t care until I am blue in the face, but I do care. I desperately just want someone near me that gets it. I am tired of feeling isolated and alone and frustrated when Sam lashes out at me in the middle of a store. I just want someone to get me , to understand how much this sucks. I want acceptance.
I feel lost in the ether, floating aimlessly. My son is very verbal and if it weren’t for the behaviors he would be considered by most “high functioning”. I feel like that label discounts how much he struggles ,how hard it is for him every.single.day. Sometimes I feel like we don’t belong in the autism community because Sammy can often seem so freaking normal to people who don’t get it. I have friends with completely non-verbal kids, kids still in diapers at 10 , kids who don’t even acknowledge when their mother walks in a room. They seem to have it way more together than I do. How do I go to them and complain that I’m struggling?
So I don’t. I sit here and I write.I fight the lump in my throat that threatens to bubble up when I speak. I am resigned and beaten tonight. I sensor myself in the world and deflect the stares I get in the store when Sammy begins screaming. I just continue to sit here and write.