I don't quite have the words to describe the last few days. The only thing I can think to say is, they've been a lot.
I turned 39.
We are in the process of wrapping up a very time consuming and expensive psychological assessment for Moe.
Moe threw up "several times" at school yesterday. In typical form, he was completely fine once he got home. He threw up again during today's afternoon snack at school. I have no idea what is going on with him.
I had to bring the dog had to the vet today for blood in her stool, which is most likely caused by anxiety. Time to talk to the vet about a change in her Prozac dose. Yes, I'm serious.
Then I was stung by a wasp.
I'm not allergic as far as I know, but I had a fairly unpleasant reaction. My "symptoms" may have been less allergy and more anxiety. Either way, I felt panicked, and drove to Jeff's office to made him sit outside with me for a few minutes. I needed him to tell me I would be okay. That I was still breathing.
After Jeff went back in the office, I sat in the car and checked email. I found out I was not chosen to be a part of the Listen To Your Mother show. I wasn't surprised. My words seemed to fall flat during the audition. I was already getting nervous about finding a babysitter for that night. (You know you're an autism parent when the thought of finding a babysitter fills you with more anxiety than performing in front of a live audience.) Though I do admit I briefly thought about sending them an American Idol style rejection response: "you will regret this!"
Regardless, rejection hurts.
And I really needed something good to happen.
At one point I thought "could this day get any worse?" If ever there were a day for hyperbole, it was this day. But the truth is that yes, it could be much worse.
The first thing I read this morning was a story about a mother who shot and killed her 22 year old autistic son, and then herself. They lived nearby. Her son had attended a school not far from my home. My heart is broken for them, and the news has shocked and saddened the autism community.
I'm not prepared to write about how we need to do more to help support adults with autism and their caregivers. I don't want to be trite about using one family's tragedy to gain perspective in my own. I will let this story stand on its own. It is something we all need to think about for a while.
I just sent Jeff a text message telling him that I'm still breathing. Right now, it is enough.