It has been hot.
Nerves are frayed.
Patience is thin and he feels the tension in the air.
Feeding on the emotions of those closest to him.
He doesn’t do it on purpose. He is not screaming for the sake of screaming. He is screaming because of some perceived change or sequence of events that he has deemed necessary has not occurred.
Something that needs to happen in the exact way he has decided for him to feel safe. To feel OK. To reduce the fear.
The heat has sapped my energy, the motherfuckingstupidlimparse arm thing has me a little off my game.
I know him well. I can anticipate his needs and literally smell a meltdown. But lately not so much.
But even he doesn’t know what is happening. He doesn’t know what he wants.
But he knows it is not that.
Or for you to do that. Or eat that. Or whatever.
His senses are on high alert. Clothes don’t feel right. Noises are too noisy. Just the act of walking past him can illicit a major response that even he is surprised by.
He pulled out another tooth.
Sleep is a non-event. Eating is constant.
Anything to feel OK. Anything to feel, not this.
Autism sucks. It fucking sucks.
I adore him. He is the light of my life. He is my Boo and my life is enriched by him.
But the Autism. The part that makes him feel like this, act like this, be like this, bites.
And that my girls lives are ruled by his moods, his fears, his weird arsed rules.
I know people think that by hating the Autism I am hating who he is.
But he is not Autism. He is Boo. He is amazing and wonderful despite the Autism.
To me, the Autism is the meltdowns, the confusion, the utter terror of an action being performed in such a way that it is not right.
THAT I hate. Because of the way it makes him feel. That look in his eyes. And as he grows older I fear for the future. Our future. Of the time in the not too distant future when he towers over me and I will not be able to control the meltdowns.
Of the day he realises that he can be boss if he wants to. The day he realises that he is stronger than me.
And I lay in bed in the middle of the night listening to him singing and drawing in his room and my mind races. I am scared. It is happening more often now. My heart races and clenches at the same time.
Scared of him becoming a man. Of shaving him. Still in nappies.
I know that people will be angered by my words. I know that some will say that Autism is part of who he is and by saying these things I am not accepting him for him. That I should just get over myself. That I am heartless and a bad mother and whatever for wishing away a part of my child.
And to those people I say fuck you. Fuck you sideways with a mouldy sweet potato.
Cause funnily enough I still have one in my pantry.
I think I just need some sleep.