Saturday, October 17, 2009
Did you ever feel like you're in a total funk? Like, while you're not unhappy you feel joyless? Like, your brain knows you're happy because you have everything you've ever wanted and your life is rich with blessings and love and friends and family and support, but you're on autopilot? Like every day is Ground Hog day and you do and say and wear the same thing and you're trapped in suburbia where everyone looks the same, lives in the same house, thinks the same and you sit there and pretend that you're the same too, but you're NOT the same so you recede into yourself...
Did you ever feel like there is nothing you even ENJOY anymore except sleep? Like you're surrounded by people, yet no one with whom you can totally relate in a truly authentic way with the exception of your spouse who is working so hard and so exhausted himself that you barely can form complete sentences with each other? Did you ever feel like everything that might be remotely pleasurable is now a chore - from intimacy, to time with the kids, to social occasions to hobbies? Where you go out with your friends and next thing you know your staring into your red wine having a therapy session with the poor, unsuspecting girl sitting next to you and you can't shut your stupid MOUTH and sound like you're an escaped psych patient recently off her Zoloft... and you wonder if you MIGHT need Zoloft? Did you ever???? ....
Ummmmmm.... yeah, me neither.
I wait for CB as I sit and write this post. She's on her way back home after her obligatory weekend with her dad. Her seizures have increased recently and I always worry more when she's not here. I think about CB as I sit on the floor of her room in our temporary housing, with my life in a holding pattern, struggling with my strange, blunted mood.
I think about her, folded inside of herself, so small, until the world can barely see her. Until she's somewhere else, a speck on the moon. She's had a short little lifetime of receding further and further away until all anyone sees is what they want to see. So far away, so lost. Lost even to herself. And strangely enough, she likes it best that way.
And it is in this moment that I realize for the first time in 14 years I can finally relate to my Autistic daughter.