The Space Between…

….the tears we cry, is the laughter keeps us coming back for more.
                                                                                              ~ Dave Matthews

It gets harder and harder to be an autism parent as they age. I’d say we are in one of those “omg this sucks” times right now. I posted on FACEBOOK that my life exists in between changing shit filled diapers. This is possibly one of the truest things I’ve ever posted. It’s raw, it’s unedited and if you had to walk a mile in my shoes you’d get poop under your fingernails I can promise you that.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. It’s just that getting to GOOD seems to be harder and harder.

It’s not as though we won’t work through this and find our way to “our” version of normal. I think we will somehow. It’s just overwhelming some days. Sometimes it’s overwhelming days in a row. Weekends when we go out improve their mood, but it doesn’t do a damn thing for the fact that time is still just divided up into the spaces between when diapers need changed.

I have captured here a moment in time. The kids are playing in the nature center and being silly. This moment of parenting relaxing and joy is about to be interrupted by….MILES who has begun to pull on his diaper. Changing a 12 year old boy is a delight lemme tell you. Changing a 12 year old boy in a dank bathroom in a nature center, A+++.

This is every moment in our lives. LIFE LIFE LIFE LIFE DIAPER. LIFE LIFE LIFE LIFE DIAPER. Insert some screaming for no reason. LIFE LIFE LIFE LIFE LIFE DIAPER.

Why aren’t they potty trained at 12? I don’t fucking know. You tell ME how to do it. When you sit a child on the potty at 12 and he nearly breaks the thing screaming and thrashing, it tends to run you down. Especially about the 10th time he does it.

Is it all bad? No it’s not. But it’s getting to this point where it’s running us, as it does sometimes. Sometimes Autism runs the show around here and everything else suffers.

We do our best but we fail because we’re humans. I just wish I knew how to make it better. How to mentally survive the never ending diapers that stretch out in front of me to eternity.

Some asshole shot this bald eagle with an arrow. He lost most of one wing because of it and can’t fly. He’s kept safe here at this retreat we visited a few days ago. Sometimes I think the husband and I feel a little bit like him. Trapped. Nothing really wrong, we’ve got food and shelter and what we need.

But we are trapped for the rest of our lives by autism. We’ll never be free.

If you think that isn’t daunting, bless your heart.

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