Perspective
So the Lithium hasn't really worked out. We started decreasing the dose yesterday even before I contacted his doctor. She had us take the dose down even farther.
Today was better. He was much more in control through the day. Less of that crazy cycling in and out of anxiety and agitation. Tonight, not so much. He's upstairs screaming and pounding the walls while his dad tries to convince him it's time for bed. An hour ago.
But I'm grateful for the day. It's like it was given back to us. Even with the trouble tonight, I still was able to take him to Costco and Goodwill and out to eat by myself and give Paul time off.
So much of the time I feel sorry for me and sorry for him and sorry for us. Autism makes our lives so different compared to other people. There are places we can't go, things we can't do.
Most of the time I don't talk to people about him except in vague terms ("Nathan's doing better (ie. he's not breaking the skin when he bites himself.))
We stopped going to family events in our community. I was mocked when I complained that the other kids stole the pumpkins from him because it's hard for him to make quick movements when they are unfamiliar and he's excited. Now that he's bigger people don't want him doing things that children would do. Even though the other children do them faster than him.
Even though we are secure financially, all of our discretionary money pretty much goes to autism-related things. Therapy camp, all of the costs surrounding the service dog (which with the fence and the trip will run over $5000), the homeschooling curriculum we use. I don't want more stuff, like TVs. I'd like to finish the floor upstairs from last spring's renovation. I'd like to buy living room furniture - to supplement the one three year old recliner we got from Big Lots that is the only furniture to sit on in the living room.
But getting the day back. That's something, isn't it? A day that was not filled with stress, but filled with stuff he likes doing. A day that wasn't waiting for the next downward spiral.
Now. Now I'd like the evening back. Because, between you and me, sex and sleep are pretty special too.
Today was better. He was much more in control through the day. Less of that crazy cycling in and out of anxiety and agitation. Tonight, not so much. He's upstairs screaming and pounding the walls while his dad tries to convince him it's time for bed. An hour ago.
But I'm grateful for the day. It's like it was given back to us. Even with the trouble tonight, I still was able to take him to Costco and Goodwill and out to eat by myself and give Paul time off.
So much of the time I feel sorry for me and sorry for him and sorry for us. Autism makes our lives so different compared to other people. There are places we can't go, things we can't do.
Most of the time I don't talk to people about him except in vague terms ("Nathan's doing better (ie. he's not breaking the skin when he bites himself.))
We stopped going to family events in our community. I was mocked when I complained that the other kids stole the pumpkins from him because it's hard for him to make quick movements when they are unfamiliar and he's excited. Now that he's bigger people don't want him doing things that children would do. Even though the other children do them faster than him.
Even though we are secure financially, all of our discretionary money pretty much goes to autism-related things. Therapy camp, all of the costs surrounding the service dog (which with the fence and the trip will run over $5000), the homeschooling curriculum we use. I don't want more stuff, like TVs. I'd like to finish the floor upstairs from last spring's renovation. I'd like to buy living room furniture - to supplement the one three year old recliner we got from Big Lots that is the only furniture to sit on in the living room.
But getting the day back. That's something, isn't it? A day that was not filled with stress, but filled with stuff he likes doing. A day that wasn't waiting for the next downward spiral.
Now. Now I'd like the evening back. Because, between you and me, sex and sleep are pretty special too.
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