That's how I'm feeling, as I sit in my office, hiding from the world. I'm just done with today. Not because it's been a particularly bad day, or I'm under any extreme amount of pressure (or at least, no more than normal). I'm just mentally, and physically done. My nearly 8-year-old son (who has a series of additional needs, just in case you're new here and not yet up to speed), has been in full on 'I don't understand' mode today. It's usually squealy, and flappy. And, as much as I try to be empathetic, and calm, and reassuring to his million and one questions, it's been gruelling.
Piano practice got an 'I don't understand', because my minibeast wasn't reading the page properly. And much to his distress, I don't know music (which is why we have a piano teacher. Normally great, but he's currently missing in action thanks to the summer holidays!)
Filling the muffin tray with cupcake cases got an 'I don't understand', because no matter how many times I directed my problem bear to 'Use 4 of each colour to fill the tray', I wasn't talking sense. After 7 attempts, he finally got it. A new woodland walk got an 'I don't understand', because the pathway wasn't immediately visible from the road. And no amount of 'Just wait and see' was cutting it. The corn on the cob (which monkey man asked for) got an 'I don't understand', because he couldn't get a strong enough bite on the cob. We solved the problem by cutting the corn free, but the not-understanding continued for another 3-5 minutes.
And so on...
Did I mention that he's also trying to toilet train? This means that, in addition to the relentless 'I don't understand' outbursts, we get the dreaded 'Ding Dong' from our bathroom.
I installed one of those assistance buttons with receivers throughout the house. They're usually for the old and infirm type, in case they have a fall or something. But in our house, whenever my boy needs help in the bathroom (which is most times), the ding dong of 'Avon Calling' echoes through the hallways.
I should probably take up drinking (yes, I am riding these waves teetotal), or maybe dance improv (but not whilst doing the drinking).
I should probably go to therapy, or maybe start my own therapy group. I'm not saying I'd be the most grounded person to work with, but we could share stories and laugh at each other's ordeals. It would be like an A.A. group, but instead, I'd call it P.O.T.E. - Parents On The Edge.
(Out of curiosity, I just Googled to see if 'Pote' was a thing, and apparently, it's a French slang word that means friend of buddy... I'm totally down with that!)
Look at this - we've started already! I'm sharing, you're listening (well, reading). And I'm feeling considerably less ranty (as well as less likely to get arrested) than when I started writing this blog post. As they say, sharing is caring... A problem shared is a problem halved... We're not laughing at you - we're laughing with you... (uh huh... if you say so!) I should add that, before anyone gets upset and chips in with 'It's not just parents, or parents of autistic kids, who have bad days', I know. I genuinely know, through personal battles that date back way before my beautiful little boy came into this world.
I know that life is just massively unfair sometimes.
Finding out I'd lost my Dad last year was one of those unfair moments for me. I'd spent over 20 years looking for him, but by the time someone pointed me in the right direction, I was 10 years too late. He was gone, and all I had were some badly scanned photos of a face I don't recognize. And a YouTube link to the scattering of his ashes in the coast of California. I could go on about how my Mum purposely stood in my way, and fed me false information so I wouldn't find my Dad. But it doesn't change what happened. And in the same breath, hanging on to a bad day for the next week or perhaps even longer, won't wipe away any tears that were shed. As cliché as it is, we can't change the past, but the past can change, or at least darken, our future... If we let it.
Today is a tough day. But tomorrow, my Superhero won't give it a second thought. He won't get up in a grump. Or feel the weight of yesterday's problems. And, that in itself, is so special. Never have I known forgiveness for life's pain, more than with this child. He holds no grudges or resentment. And will forever look for sunshine at the end of the rainbow.
For some folk, a Grandparent may be the beacon of hope in their life, or a foster carer when things didn't work out at home. A teacher, a friend, a family support worker who actually wanted to do something good.
For me, it's my beautiful children (even on difficult days, like today). They believed in me when I couldn't believe in myself. And they've loved me when I didn't think I was worth loving.
But let's be honest - having someone to lean on isn't always possible. Sometimes, those we need the most are unavailable, be it physically or emotionally.
And sometimes, especially as adults, we can lose faith in humanity and, as a result, disengage from the whole relying on others thing. That's where having someone to look up to, to respect, and feel inspired by, is different. It's like having a self-help book for the unhelpable.
There's a bunch of reading into things, some moments that'll end up imprinted in your mind, complete with the artist's signature. And if you're really lucky, some unwanted advice that you'll later appreciate (but not thank them for if you're anything like me, because we're stubborn!) These are the people who motivate us to get up and try again. And to not start doubting our capabilities, just because there's a pothole or two in the road. It's important to find your people, people. Find the people, or person, who inspires you into greatness. And failing that, reminds you of the need to get up every day and refrain from punching anyone!
“Surround yourself with only people who are going to lift you higher.”
Oprah Winfrey