The Autism Spectrum Can Suck It.

This isn't going to be pretty. Or nice. Or uplifting by any means. But sometimes the realities of others need to be seen. And heard. And felt by someone else; if for no other reason than to validate that these feelings exist among people in this world - and not just by me. 

It's been rough around here and I've refrained from writing about it because I honestly get tired of being the *one* who has *something* going on. I just want to melt into the social/parenting/friend/community woodwork sometimes because it's more comfortable than, well, always being the ONE.

Today I hate Autism. I hate Asperger's Syndrome. I hate every inch of the entire Autism Spectrum and every spike that it leaves on every day of my life. Selfish? Yes. Egocentric? Perhaps. But you know what? My entire being is about making sure everyone around me is okay every. single. day.

Yes, that is basic parenting. Every parent has to do that. But for ASD parents, that is kicked up to a whole new level. Let's even call it few stories, depending on how deeply your child or children are engulfed by this elusive disease.

e·lu·sive adjective

1. eluding clear perception or complete mental grasp; hard to express or define: an elusive concept.

2. cleverly or skillfully evasive

Some days, I hate my role as an ASD parent to several sons on the spectrum. Some days, I hate parents of neurotypical kids because they represent what I will never have - not through hard work or dumb luck or strong belief or playing the lottery or being really good on Jeopardy.

And I know hate is a strong word. I know.

There are days when I hear someone complain about their kids bickering like typical siblings, or mouthing off, or pouting, or, or, or - and I want to throw a brick at them and say, "Hey! For the love of God, I'd give my right arm to only have to deal with that!" A little over-the-top reaction, you say? Well, that's how it feels. Can't imagine? Exactly.

I want to throw a fit some days about the fact that I can't seem to be able to finish any single thing I try to accomplish, or do anything very well because I am constantly pulled in a different direction for a day, a week, or longer depending on what child is now going through whatever crisis or new phase that we all must now bend in all different and strange ways to accommodate. 

On a good day, I can reason with myself about those feelings. Everyone's reality is just that - their reality. And you cannot blame someone for not having to experience what you do. It's not their fault that this is the life you've been handed.

But this is not a good day.

Most of the time I can handle this life with grace along with my very "realness" that makes me who I am. Sometimes I fall.

Today I'm in the pit and it stinks to high heaven down here - like something went and died. I think it may have been my spirit.