This moment shall pass
I have generally tried hard to keep the "feel" of this blog space as a positive one. It's not that there are not hard, painful times on this autism road, there are. There are many. Sometimes I don't want to put those hard times out into the public realm. Sometimes those painful times are just too damn painful to get the words onto paper. And more often than not the difficult times match up with life being crazy and busy and chaotic and the time I might need to write something out of my head is just not available to me. But mostly I keep this space a positive one because I want what I write here to reflect my aspirations for our Batsman. I want the hopes and dreams and achievements to be what we focus on as a family. I have never wanted to give too much writing energy to the struggles and the bits that sting. I have always wanted this writing I do here to be about all that the Batsman is, not about what he's not.
I am having a moment though. Actually I am having a series of moments these past couple of weeks and I need to get them out of my head. I am hoping that a bit of a purge will clear the path forward. It has just gone two years since the Batsman's diagnosis and I believe that these kinds of milestones and anniversaries often make way for the bigger emotional picture to emerge.
Those moments I am having are these.
The moment when I know that looking ahead to the transition to primary school for the Batsman is not one which fills me with joy and excitement but instead with abject terror and anxiety so wound and tight that my temples pulse and I can feel a heat flush through my whole body every time my mind goes there.
The moment when I scroll through my phone contacts list and let my heart be present to the loss of the friends who have gone completely missing and no longer include me in their "catch ups" and gatherings. It's not everyone but there are a significant few. I am fortunate to have some amazing people, both old and new, in my life. You know who you are.
The moment when I acknowledge that the career I had built is more or less gone and gone with it, the two or three hundred strong collegiate, professional network of people working toward a common cause.
The moment when I know that I am very, very tired of having a home that has therapists coming and going every single day. The therapy team who work with the Batsman are amazing and respectful and I love them dearly but oh how I wish for days on end without a doorbell ringing.
The moment when I become aware that my own ability to "be a capable person who gets a lot done" is so often the very thing that stops others from checking if I am okay. And in that moment I understand too that sometimes there are even people in my life who get a wee bit cranky with me when I am not coping quite in the way to which they are accustomed.
This is not a plea for sympathy post. Nor is it one seeking anyone to tell me I'm doing a good job. There is nothing I would change about the choices we have made for our precious boy. It is just getting it out of my head. Simple as that.
So this is me, releasing these moments to the universe and wishing for a more peaceful mind. I know these moments will pass. I do.
The moments will pass Suz and when they do you will be glad you wrote them down. Wish we lived closer xx
ReplyDeleteSo very well put Suz. I know what you mean and an outlet is very important. I hear you. Fallout can happen in all other areas when you live a certain life and most don't get it. I'd caution to keep an eye on the stress levels in your body though. After a while those responses and cortisol flooding your system can do damage long term. It's important to look after yourself too xxx
ReplyDeleteI hope this post helped you clear your mind. I know it often helps me as well. And even though you are not looking for anyone to tell you you are doing a good job, know that you are, with all of the juggling, struggling, schedules, etc etc, its not easy and I hope you go easy on yourself most days....sending love across the pond xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteOh darling girl. I can't empathize, but you explain your position so very articulately. My heart aches that you have to feel like this. Xxx
ReplyDeleteSuz, I so well know these moments. I too wanted to keep my blog a positive colourful one, but appreciate the 'therapy' that comes from a big heartfelt 'dump' and then yes, you can move forward. I think can be important too, think how you will feel 12 months from now, reading this and seeing how far you and your family have come. Maybe some years down the track you will even read and laugh at the chaos it once was and feel warmth in knowing it was an essential stepping stone to the enormous progress you make.
ReplyDeleteI hope you mind is finding peace, and although it wasn't your intention - you ARE doing a great job, your dedication in amazing and the Batsman is very lucky to have you xx
Suz,
ReplyDeleteI've just found your blog, I am so glad too.
oxox
Oh Suz,
ReplyDeleteThis is both a release and a relief I suppose to 'admit' and write as you have. It is relentless. The to-ing and fro-ing, the losses & 'what might have been' and up there with the great achievements too.You are so right to let it out. For too long those who are in 'head carer' roles they may never have envisaged, need this type of release and more.
I do hope it's helped, and that your strength should not be taken for granted by others. Warm wishes Denyse
Suz, I think if we swapped the word autism for stillbirth, we'd very much be on the same page. I get it, I really do (as much as I totally don't get it at all).
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Hi Suz, I worked myself up into a frenzy months and months before my ASD son had to start primary school. They had a tea and tissues morning on the first day and I wanted hankies and vodka and a lie down. He has now started Year 1. I won't lie, it is harrowing but a wise special ed aide gave me some good advice and that was just to take each term at a time. A good special ed unit in a school is invaluable so school selection is important.
ReplyDeleteI could of written this post myself, and you DO need to get it out. It's important to acknowledge the sadness, or you drag it around everywhere you go
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