At a Loss

Well, yesterday was rough. And I think the blog post totally reflected that.

I had one of the worst sleeps ever, and I don’t do well on little sleep. My body and mind was out of sorts all day. All the things I was looking forward to doing didn’t get done. I just didn’t have it in me. But I didn’t let it get to me. I didn’t let myself feel guilt.

Then, on top of that, I get an email from school about my younger daughter and her behaviour. She’s struggling. She’s acting out. She’s getting kicked out of classes.

She’s in grade 3. It looks like her meds need to be adjusted still. It’s another part of this whole raising neurodivergent kids that’s challenging.

A school day with my kids is never predictable. Will they get sent home? Will I get a phone call or email?

And then today happened. And somehow things got worse.

Thankfully, my day was good, but my twins… Their behaviour at school is just… it’s not good. It’s not okay. I reiterate to them that they need good behaviour at school. I even threatened them, saying they could get kicked out.

They are the sweetest and smartest kids. They just can’t seem to regulate themselves at all lately.

What can we do? This is the stress, the difficulty, behind raising autistic kids. The stuff we hide. The stuff no one sees. The stuff people try and brush off.

But we can’t. It’s not something that’ll magically improve with age or time. We need to teach them and parent them and I don’t know how. Being autistic myself makes this all the worse because I can’t always regulate myself well, and disciplining them is challenging and exhausting.

Raising three neurodivergent children to become functioning members of the society in which we live, while I barely am, is beyond difficult. It’s the blind leading the blind, as they say. I’m learning a lot right alongside them. I’m teaching them things I had to learn when I was older, so they are hopefully able to function more easily.

Then the “I’m a bad parent” self talk kicks in again. My kids are “the bad kids.” I know that’s not true, but I worry that’s how they’re seen. I worry they’ll lose or not make friends if things don’t change.

I’m just tired. All the time. And it’s not just an I-didn’t-sleep-well kind of tired. It’s an exhaustion that permeates my bones, that makes me feel like I can’t get up some mornings. No, it’s not depression. It’s managing my life.

It’s my lot in life. It is what it is, and I definitely wouldn’t change it for anything. But I know there are many others out there who get where I’m coming from, who struggle day in and day out, too. We’re all in this together.

In the end, I just want them to live a “normal” life. But some days, this is just too damn hard.

{picture of the three kiddos from a few years ago}


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