The truth is, despite my shiny, rule keeping good girl exterior, I am a delinquent at heart, a criminal, a wanna be con. Because every day I’m fighting the law. Every. Single. Day. The law of inertia is no joke, especially when it comes to pitting your will against…your will.
My life experiences have done more than just allow me the opportunity to perfect the fetal ball. Additionally, they have given me insight into how plot twists, rising conflict and unresolved love triangles shape us all. They have reminded me that if I want to know someone’s story, I can’t just make up my own version for them, if I want to know, I need to ask.
Comparison only leaves you feeling defeated and unworthy. It steals your sense of contentment, robs you of perspective and leaves you feeling empty and joyless, and if you follow instructions as well as I do, wet. The bigger the gap, the greater the pain, the wetter the girl.
On those ridiculously dark night, when the weight of love is as dense and heavy as an untouched fruit cake; I’ve wondered if all the talking, listening, reasoning and reassuring makes even a chink in the armor of autism, let alone a dent in the shield. But, my ace up my sleeve is knowing I can perseverate too. In fact, love compels me to repeat something intently or redundantly, usually to an exceptional degree or beyond a desired point. I choose to believe that the weight of love will be decisive. That the gravity of devotion is cumulative, that it all matters.
All the times I wiped noses, wiped butts, buckled boys in car seats, and stopped on the side of the road every other mile to REBUCKLE them in car seats, matter. All the hours nursing children with the stomach flu, the cracked nipples, ER visits and bouts of biting. All the landforms formed, PE clothes washed, forgotten lunches delivered. All the binkies found, Halloween costumes created, knees bandaged, and apples peeled. All the books read, boundaries set, chores enforced, and meadows checked. The sleepless nights stumbled through, the lullabies sung, the waiting in long lines for the ferris wheel. The parent teacher conferences, the scolding absorbed, the laundry washed, pancakes flipped, tempers held and crusts removed, it all counts.
“Courage is not born from effortless immaculate conception. Courage is conceived in terrifying moments of raw bravery. Courage keeps pace with fear. It is barely one step ahead, and sometimes the race seems so close you wonder who will cross the finish line first.”
Sandwiched between his two autistic brothers, Spencer has never had first dibs on pretty much anything. He has assumed, ie been forced into the role of peace maker, negotiator, soother, sacrificer, sympathizer and protector, ands all before he turned four.
The reality of my alleged depression being more headline worthy news than Jake jumping out of the second story science classroom set off warning bells inside my head, leading my 13 year old self to assume depression was something to be ashamed of, something you hide.
What’s that saying? “When in Rome do as the Romans?” So…. when in Cambodia, do as the Cambodians? Well, I don’t think I saw […]
It’s easy to look at other tightly sealed shells and think they have it all together. Look at the curves on her lips? I mean she had to have her scallops enhanced. But you never know what’s going on inside another person. No one is immune to adversity or setbacks. Even small irrantants like a stressful work environment, can be that little grain. Or maybe you’ve been trying to wrap around a freaking boulder like childhood cancer. No one ever has enough nacre for that.
Logan has EFD: Executive Functioning Disorder., not to be confused with another EFD disorder 🙂 Consequently, he has a hard time prioritizing not only his own information, but also the information he needs to tell me. With Logan, all knowledge carries the same weight and priority tag, whether it’s, “The dog snuggled with me last night.” Or “Your hair is on fire.”