What if you don't have anything nice to say for a really long time?

  A friend asked me the other night why I don't blog anymore. I told her I was trying really hard to practice the old " if you don't have anything nice to say don't say anything at all" thing. When life has been pretty negative I feel like I can get trapped in a pattern of just bitching my verbal vomit out here. So, looking back I now see that I lose followers and my dear friends start to worry when it's been more than a month between posts. Because I tried something new. Being quiet. For the record I hate being quiet. And for the record her reply was "Why? Just go back to being you. I people can't handle it. Fuck em."

  Though I rant plenty I don't air all my dirty laundry here. There are novels I could write about voldemort and yes she has reared her ugly head bad nose job and seriously questionable hairstyles a lot lately. But I am sort of tired of dishing out that same poop with a different scoop. So I don't. And really when it comes to her, I can ignore the things she does to antagonize me personally. That shit is laughable and sad. When it's the lashings out against my children I dig in with no remorse. I do draw the line there and for the most part she has been somewhat less than toxic on that front. (knock on wood that continues)

  Most of my frustrations have been with Aidan. My emotions about him have been right under the surface and without even trying friends have brought me to tears with just an inquiry. That isn't me. Or the me I like to wear out in public every day. It's not a me I care to share with the world right now in brief encounters that make me self conscious as hell. Afterwards I worry that perhaps I will be seen as not having my shit together, or weak. I don't admit it often and frankly most of you can see it clearly, I rarely have my shit totally handled but damnit if I don't take all punishing blows with as much strength as I can. Weak is something I refuse to be. I hate it. I can be sensitive and not weak. Except the last few months have me feeling helpless and in fact weak as I've ever felt. I feel small and alone. Even in a team called marriage I still feel alone. My thoughts are my own and I don't share some of the important ones enough. I don't throw out cries for help or posts for back pats. But I do need to write my feelings more than I have been about this topic especially.

  I am wholeheartedly afraid for my sons future. I am sad to think he may never marry. That he may not reach high levels of education that fulfill his happiness. That he will remain so simple. That he could possibly live at home for a very long time. I fear that I cannot keep him safe. From himself and his stupidly brave innocent choices more than any outside source of harm or manipulation. I have horrid dreams about this. His great leaps in development have also continued to show the vast pits. That divide widens every day. The contrast breaks my heart. I don't have to compare him to his peers anymore because he doesn't have any. He is his own animal of mixed ages. Regression is still present and though we celebrate the shining moments, the darkness in the corners collects all the cast off skills that may never come back but haunt me because I documented the fact that he could at one point do them. Let's just say I can't use timehop without feeling depressed 5 times out of 10.

  The stimming and humming has reached nearly intolerable levels and I crack after 6 hours of incessant sound and running. I shout now. Because I can't break through into his world otherwise. I yell "STOP!!" at him. And sometimes he will stop. Just sometimes. It makes me feel like a terrible parent to yell at him. When he is being a "regular" child and acting his social age (which is barely 2 and 1/2) I can laugh at the naughty behaviors because THAT I can handle with grace. It's Autism that is breaking me. Yes it has been difficult to live through these terrible twos for so many more years than normal. Yes it will be a relief when he starts acting 3. But my hearts hurts to wonder when that will be. Will he be 6 in body and motor skills when he is 3 in communication and social interaction? Or 8 or 9? Right now I have a 2 1/2 year old with the build of a small 5 year old and he can read and do simple addition as well as rote count to 200. But he can't understand traffic safety and would gladly stroll into oncoming traffic as you scream STOP.

  This life is currently too unpredictable on the spectrum and I am in the trenches having a hard go of it. It's hard to work. It's hard to be home. I am holding on really tightly to the things that bring me joy but I find myself shying away from interactions that could scrape the surface and make me cry. So most of my moments are solo. Which makes for a ton of deep thinking and soul searching. I know I am a tough cookie and that some people I love would like nothing more but to force social interaction to heal me but that's not my jam. And bless their heart most of them know that. So those of you that feel like your hands are tied and you can't help, trust that I understand how you feel and I love you. You weirdos who leave jars or wine on my porch are the reason I smile. Even if I don't say it the texted memes of crazy random shit are important to me. I really do have some of the best friends. I am fully heart eyed emojis all day for you.

 I do need to write more because this was therapy. Just saying words helps.