Day #4

"Nobody can dream a dream better than me!"

I wonder how many people of special needs kids live in poverty? Never in a million years did I think I'd be so broke. It seems I'm not alone in that regard these days, but I still optimistically look out my window hoping that money tree has finally blossomed. I suppose I have a pretty average income but the daily demands of my sons exceed every penny I bring home.

I always had dreams of the perfect marriage, successful career, financial stability... all these years however, I have just tried to maintain mental stability.
I do believe that if you can dream it, you can do it and nobody can dream a dream better than I can. It is difficult to accept that my reality is so far from my dream. I want my children to be happy, and not struggling. I want to wake up and have all of the problems they face in a day to be wiped away forever. I want their dreams to come true like any parent does for their child. I will never give up on that dream.
One of the hardest parts of this life is feeling like the world is passing us by. Its like we are stuck on this autism train, our train keeps creeping past all the "normal world" people. We get to watch them enjoy the simpleness and pleasures of life, and no matter how much I pray, or how hard I try, I can't get our train to stop so the boys and I can get out and be a part of all the world has to offer.
The "normal people" can look at us through the windows of our train, they stare, they whisper to each other, or they ignore us. I'm banging on the windows of our train screaming, "IT'S AUTISM!! IT'S AUTISM! WHY CAN'T YOU JUST UNDERSTAND! WHY DON'T YOU ASK ME ABOUT IT!!! Then I realize, until normal people can do more than whisper and stare, there is no hope of acceptance, no hope of them understanding.
I'm just a passenger on this train, just like my boys, autism is our conductor. However scary and unknown the tracks ahead of us may be, we will travel on together.

Today when I woke up I felt like a zombie, literally like the walking dead. If zombies really feel like I felt this morning, they honestly wouldn't have the energy to eat brains, seems to me like that would take an awful lot of strength. I just can't believe I can still function in the morning. I can't think, or see straight, but at least I'm awake to live another day.
Overall this day was more calm. My little angel seemed alot less interested in screaming and more interested in not letting me sit down. I don't know why, but he would get very upset when he'd find me sitting anywhere in the house. We took a long ride today and went window shopping. I can fill my imaginary dream house with all of the things I picked up on my window shopping spree.
I started the bedtime process tonight at about 8pm. This is a part of the day I dread because it will go on for hours most nights. My little angel hasn't slept in his bedroom for 8 years, he sleeps on the couch and I sleep on the love seat in the living room. People don't understand why I let him sleep on the couch, but if that is the only place he will sleep, I am not going to argue. I spend far to much time exhausted from not getting to sleep at all that I could sleep on the floor sitting up and be elated that I was getting to sleep. If he is comfortable that's fine with me.
Tonight he was oddly interested in his bedroom that I have decorated with Sponge Bob decals and yellow stars. He wanted to lay on his bed buried in 8 blankets and 5 pillows. I pulled my computer chair into his room as he wanted me to be in his room with him. He didn't want me to sit down, so for a little while I gladly stood, shocked that he was lying on his own bed after all these years. After 20 minutes of standing my knee started to hurt, I could hardly bare the pain (old injury... long story.) I'd sit down, he'd stand me back up and hit himself in the head. When he'd turn his back to me I'd sit back down, he'd stand me back up. I just wanted to cry by 10:30. I would suffer because I don't like to see him hit himself, because he hits himself really hard, hard enough to bruise his little hands. Eventually he fell asleep, so I gathered up a bunch of blankets and fell asleep on his floor. I think I'd been asleep about 15 minutes when he fell off the bed and landed on my head, and he's a big boy. My head still hurts and my cheek is a little bruised. Needless to say he is now asleep on the couch and I am writing. There is never a night here that is quick, quiet and easy. If he would just sleep I know he'd feel better, I'd feel better. Maybe this fog that envelopes my brain would lift a little and I'd start to function better. I forget things so quickly, people, places, phone numbers. It worries me that my memory seems to be fading. I wish I'd of kept a journal all these years, the memories would then be within my reach, I'd have a way to put them back in my zombie brain.
I can't believe how bad my face hurts.
Until tomorrow.....