It's been a rough week. A rough, ugly, messy week.It's the kind of week that I don't want to get out of bed to deal with. I want to curl in the fetal position and cry but instead I ate chocolate-covered raisins (which were kind of gross but I was willing to eat anything covered in chocolate at that point). I like to hide and eat chocolate when life gets to be too much, you know.
Daniel is pushing a lot of boundaries right now. He'll be 10 next month and I think we've officially hit the "pre-teen" years. I hate them. I don't want to deal with them. One of the things I've learned about autism is that I have to be embarrassed for my children. That's not embarrassed of them, but for them. Daniel isn't socially aware enough to realize some his behaviors are wildly inappropriate. When he does things like this, people only see behaviors, they don't see him. It makes me so frustrated--at them, at him, at autism, at myself.
How do you teach someone who doesn't care, to care? Am I making the best choices for him? Why can't someone just tell me what to do? These not rhetorical questions. I really need to know the answer to this because I am at a loss.
Gideon's had a rough week too. A few weeks ago, he began to communicate his supreme dislike of everything by pinching. This week, he added hitting to his repertoire. When he's unhappy with an answer, like when he's told no (and he's told no a lot), he's looking for someone to hit. Guess who tells him no the most though? Of course, me! When he's around, I have to be hyper-vigilant to stop the hitting before it starts and block it when it does.
Do you know how frustrating it is that the only way your six year old will communicate with you is by hitting? I would give anything for him to be able to just talk to me, even for a day. I just want to hear his voice tell me how he's feeling, just once. I want him to tell me he loves me just once without repeating it after I say it. I worry constantly that I've failed Gideon somehow, that we've not worked hard enough or we've not given him what he needs. If I knew for certain that he was happy, I could at least hold onto that.
Ben is struggling a lot right now. We've had him evaluated twice now and, although, we can all see the dyslexia, he scores "too high" on the evaluations to receive help. The second doctor told me to wait a year and then he'll qualify. "Let him fail the STAAR test and then they'll pay attention." I can't even . . . . How do I stand by and just "let him fail?" How do I afford expensive tutors and intensive reading programs? How do I help Ben understand that I just expect him to do his best when he is doing his best and he sees it's not good enough?
Why is nothing easy? We already have two children with autism. Why do we have to have another that has to struggle too and, selfishly, add more work to my endless amount?
I need more chocolate-covered raisins, except no raisins this time. Just chocolate.
Katherine is two so she acts like a two year old. Temper tantrums, attitude for miles, wanting to be independent, demanding, exhausting. She's far more stubborn than all three boys combined. She's opinionated and loud. She's basically me, except two. Today I spent 15 minutes listening to her gripe (and shout and cry) about having to be strapped into the car seat.
Carl is a ghost. Leaving before 6am, coming home after bedtime. He sleeps and then repeats. Two solid months of this has both him and me on thin ice.
My house is a disaster of epic proportions, I'm behind on laundry, the taxes aren't done, my husband is basically living at work. I feel like I'm failing at life this week. I feel like I'm barely hanging on here. My lifeline is thin and fraying, worn out from how hard I've had to hold on it.
I think I need ice cream too. Mint chocolate chip, please.
I wish I had some great insight, some nugget of truth, to pass on to you about this. I wish I could give you a big smile and say, "It will all be okay." But life is hard; life is messy. Sometimes it's a beautiful mess and I know I have to hold on to those moments with everything in me to get through the times when the mess is ugly and hard.
Every day is a struggle. Every day I work to put one foot in front of the other. Some days I make progress, other days I don't move an inch. Part of the reason I share this with you is because I never share this stuff. I hold it and it festers and boils. I'm so tired of having that feeling in my gut all the time. I'm tired of bracing myself for the other shoe to drop, the next kid emergency, or broken whatever that will surely break in our house/car/body.
I just want to tell you guys that I am struggling. This day. This week. This month. This year. This life.
And I think it's okay. It's not fun but it's okay. I don't hate God or shake my fists at Him but I tell Him that I don't understand. I try to give him my confusion and doubts and feelings of failure and loss; they seep back in. So, I give them to Him again. It's not easy or pretty because I'm a ugly, messy, hard, beautiful work in progress. I feel inadequate, anxious, scared, and alone. But, you know, God has yet to give up on me. I will make mistakes of epic proportions but God will give me glimpses of such perfect beauty that will carry me through.
Thank God for that.
No comments:
Post a Comment