|May 16, 2011||Posted by The Informal Matriarch under ASD, autism, autistic, boys, childhood, family, kids, motherhood, parenting, stay at home mom|
I’ve cried a lot today.
I woke up in a fog of SSRI withdrawal, I had slept in too long and it was time to feed the kids FAST and get out the door for swimming lessons. I managed to do it, despite the fog and the rush, we got there only 3 minutes late. Phew.
After lessons we have a ritual, as we do with everything. I skipped over the first ritual of where we come out of the family change room and the boys sit in the lockers. It was hot. Too hot.
I avoid the woman’s change room at all costs, we end the same time the aquasize classes do. I just don’t think Silas, with photogenic memory, wants the image of showering with 6 or so naked 50+ women in his memory bank. Just sayin.
We went to the playhouse which is step 2 in the after swimming lessons ritual. The kids played with another little girl as I gave the count-down. Every minute must be counted as we prepare to transition. Silas must know everything that is about to happen or he cannot handle it. ESPECIALLY moving from a desirable activity to a not-so-fun one.
We got to zero, Isaac got his jacket on first and rushed to the door to push the button (ritual#3). Silas, hating not being first, slipped from my hands and ran after him. I tried to pack up quickly and get there before too much of a problem happened. I heard Ikey make an unhappy sound and I rushed over. Silas had him by the hood of his raincoat and dragged him to the ground. “NO NO NO NO I cried, seeing my little baby about to get hurt…again”.
I stopped it and got us out there as fast as we possibly could. The old woman was glaring at me. A woman who looks in charge of something important at the pool came rushing out of her office, looking concerned. The young woman at the desk…they were all watching and wondering what sort of mother….
I let Isaac go ahead as I held Silas back, teaching him a lesson about hurting his brother. Silas hates it when he’s not first. It’s become a massive problem in our home and I’m not too sure how to deal with it. He was SO angry with me.
Isaac got in to the car first and I tried to hold on to Silas while I got all of our things in to the car but he slipped away from me, hurting Isaac again.
Another woman watching….hearing me sound angry with my kids. The lady who screams at her child to listen to the teacher during swimming lessons drives by in her car…all watching.
I dunno what I was doing. What I was trying to prove to my son. He just simply cannot be so upset by not being first. He needs to learn, I am in over my head with this lesson. It got Isaac hurt…again.
As I was trying to keep Silas OUT of the car and buckle Isaac in at the same time, I just crouched down to the ground and I cried. I ugly cried. In the parking lot.
Silas’ angry tears turned into sadness. Both boys asked me to stop crying but I couldn’t. It snapped Silas out of his state enough to get everyone buckled up safely.
I cried all the way home with the boys eerily silent in their seats.
I somehow thought that I got something through to them but once we arrived home, their shenanigans started once again and I absolutely lost it.
Silas and I in his room, me trying to drill ideas into his head that he just. cannot. grasp. It’s not his fault but drive them I tried. I tried until I was exhausted and guilty. He kept telling me he didn’t want to be a nice boy, that he liked to be a mean boy. I told him he was a wonderful boy, he’s nice, he’s smart, he’s beautiful. I just didn’t need to yell it so loudly.
Then we did what we do best. We snuggled.
I think our snuggles could solve world hunger.
After he told me I shouldn’t yell because I might cough. He was right, he usually is right.
Getting off these SSRI’s have been more emotional that I thought possible. Feelings feel….they FEEL like something. It’s not just a painful general yucky feeling. They’re sharp, they’re heightened. They’re so real to me. They’re waking up after being numbed down after two years and they HURT. Oh boy do they hurt.
I sat, tissue ready, and had to wipe tears before even starting to read THIS POST. One that I recommend you reading. This woman and I have not met *yet* but we have so much in common. I love how she can describe her feelings so well. Her and I have both felt more pain for our children than any one mother should be have to feel. She’s just as honest as I am but a way better writer. It’s refreshing.
I bawled my way through her post, describing her feelings surrounding the birth, and the following four weeks after, of her son Amos. A delicious little boy who has Down Syndrome. What a lucky mommy she is. What a lucky boy. She must let me chew on him soon.
I’m so full of raw emotion and even though it may be HARD emotion, it’s so good. It’s like after the rain has poured down and the sun is peeking through the clouds. Not only are those emotions more vivid but so are the feelings that follow, the endorphins, the ups…the HIGHS.
Today, despite the fact that the feelings are hard ones, I’m just embracing them. I’m enjoying feeling human.