I'm tired. Like, really, really tired. There have been days lately I could barely get out of bed. I started seeing a therapist. Have tried a few different meds (all of which my body seems to reject in a not-so-graceful fashion). I'm trying my best to be a good mom. Not a good anything else, just a good mom, because that's really all I can do right now.
Things have been rough lately. I haven't blogged in a while because I wasn't sure how much I wanted to share. K isn't doing well. We are having issues with B and school. Or just school, I should say, as B is his usual, wonderful self. We are waiting on the edge of our seats to see if K got into a program for next year that kinda-sorta gives us hope. But, they have one whole space available, and more than one kid vying for said space. I'm not an optimist by nature, but without this program, I don't know what we will do. I really don't.
I'm also dealing with my own health issues. Health issues that will hopefully find a name when I meet with my doctor tomorrow. Health issues that have left me wondering how I am going to make it through the next hour, let alone the next 50 years.
And....
For the past year I've been trying to convince myself that autism wasn't a bad thing. I really tried to jump on that train, thinking I was only helping my children. Helping the world accept them. Helping them love themselves for the awesome humans they are, regardless of how they struggle. Regardless of how withdrawn K becomes. Or how depressed. Or how self-loathing. Turning a blind eye to how hard things really are, even when she tells me. Speaks those words! Mommy, everything is HARD. I told myself I was doing the right thing, because if I admitted how hard autism is, or how it affects my child, I would somehow be justifying murder. That I would somehow look sympathetic to the parents who choose to kill their children. That I had to act as though autism wasn't the big bad, because otherwise people would see my child as the big bad.
And maybe autism isn't the big bad in B's life. He just isn't affected the same way. He has his issues, but he's happy. My job is making sure no one screws him up along the way. But K? I feel like I'm losing her all the time lately, and it's scary and sad and leaves me feeling very lost and very alone.
People can hate me for not saying autism is a gift bestowed upon my kids. They can hate me for coming out and saying how hard life is lately. People can judge my parenting and say it's all my fault. I don't care anymore. I really don't.
I always said I would let my children lead me on this journey, and that what autism meant to them would be what matters, not anything I believe or want to believe. Autism is not something that is a positive force in K's life right now, and the absolute awesomeness that is B is just something a lot of people don't embrace. I just want happy kids. That's all. Hell, I just want to be happy myself.
Life is complicated. Autism is complicated. I can't pretend to be OK with it all anymore. Not with how life is going right now.
I'm sorry if I've let anyone down. This is just our reality.
Now it's back to fighting for my kids.
