Being A Mom Sucks Part 3 But Sometimes Autism Sucks Worse

I am in the airport finally going home with the tween daughter of the last few posts. I am excited to see everyone when I get a text from B.

Paul attacked me. He charged me and to protect myself I had to take him down to the floor and hold him there.

My adult daughter, Nicole, who is at our house witnessed this and I get a text from her as well.

I was scared for dad. Dad handled it so well but I was really scared.

I hold my breath and die just a little bit more inside.

Several days before I left for Chicago there was another altercation with Paul involving me. He hurt me in a rage while he was trying to get something that I had taken from him.

Paul has always lived on the edge of rage. Since we have known him and brought him home at 10 months old. His first act upon arriving at our home was to toddle over to his brother and throw him to the floor. It has been some version of this ever since. While they are great friends Andre always knows there is a chance that Paul will get upset and lives accordingly. We all do. It is exhausting at times.

At the age of 11 after much grief and debate, we finally broke down and started using meds to help moderate his ever shifting moods.We have a great med doc who listens with compassion and always tries to use the least amount possible in order to achieve stability. That said, we still have periods of paranoid thinking and depression which has worsened as he hit puberty. Sometimes I want to take him off all meds and other times when I think of doing that I am scared about how bad things might become. Worse. Intolerable. Maybe even dangerous.

And now this. Increasing violence to himself and against us. Not horrible…yet…but where do you draw the line? When you love someone, as we love him, it seems the line keeps getting stretched further out. Further out than you would allow for any other person you come into contact with. There is no aggression toward anyone else except those within our family. Yet I worry that if he was ever involved in some sort of police incident he would be killed because he would run or maybe struggle with an officer and we all know what happens to minorities who do so.

My heart feels like it has been shattered in pieces so many times this past year and I wonder if I can find all the pieces to put it together once again. My mother heart, my marriage heart, my lover heart and my friend heart.

I ache to be and feel whole once again.

Limitations We Place On Ourselves…309 Days To Fix This

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I’m not a half-full or half-empty glass kind of girl. I go flowing between the two like water washing over coarse sand as my moods dictate. In stormy weather my glass tends to be half-empty while a walk on the beach on a sunny day makes that half-full glass appear to be the size of a champagne magnum. In this vein, I recently saw a video on Facebook that showed a grandson talking about visiting his grandfather who had just lost his wife of 65+ years. As the old man relates to his grandson the changes he is going through with this wife’s passing, his grandson replies, “Grandpa you always make me see the glass as half-full.” And his grandfather replied, “It is a beautiful glass.”

It was in that moment that I realized that I want to be the person who sees the beauty of the glass itself and not the person who sees the limitations of the vessel and what it can hold. As I reflect over my life a see a person who thought she had to choose between the half-full half-empty scenario and I grew up believing those two ideas (half-full and half-empty) were the only choices available to me. Now I see that there are more options than I ever dreamed possible.

I want to wake up everyday seeing possibilities not possible problems, sunshine not clouds but mostly I want to appreciate the beauty of the glass as it reflects my life within it, including the good the bad and the ugly. I think it is important to realize that there is value in all that makes up this reflection of myself even if the glass sometimes distorts and twists what I see.

The beauty of the glass is really what is important so make it be the glass you want to see with your favorite colors, phrases and shapes. Enjoying the beauty of the glass is what we should strive for while we try to put away the notion that we have to determine whether it is half-full or half-empty. In the end, it doesn’t matter anyway because the glass was always beautiful and what it was holding was irrelevant… unless it was a superb 40-year-old Tawny Port….in which case I would need to empty the glass to see it’s true beauty.

(somehow this post has gone from a life affirming one to a narrative about booze. The hell with the glass…let’s contemplate the bottle!)

https://www.facebook.com/humanthemovie/videos/468301476675049/?pnref=story