Communication is critical

The silence here is deafening,
all the things we've never said.
I close my eyes and try to breathe,
but it's pounding in my head.

Communication in a relationship is critical. My relationship with Pricklypants (the twins' father) doesn't always have a great connection in the communication department.

Communication with the twins, that's even more difficult. Living in a house full of people who have trouble communicating their needs, their frustrations, their wants...it's a challenge, and some days, I just don't feel up to it. Some days, if we're being completely honest here (and isn't that the point?), I do the bare minimum, and I feel guilty about it every. single. time.

But when that's all the energy I have, well, that's all the energy I have. Trying to get that across to Pricklypants is like ramming my head into a brick wall - which is usually what I end up feeling like doing. But the thing is, he feels the same way about talking to me. It must be both of us then, right? We're both dysfunctional in the communication department?

Kind of crazy, since I have a bachelor's degree in writing, minor in communications. I wrote as a newspaper reporter for two and a half years. It must just be that I can't talk to him, maybe because he never hears me. Maybe because what I hear from him, isn't what he's really trying to say.

And the thing is, parenting takes communication. It takes two parties being able to come together to make a better life for the two little beings they created. Pricklypants and I are so far apart on what to do when it comes to the twins, and it gets frustrating. He just doesn't get that these little boys are different than he was, they're different than I was, and there's a better way to do it than our parents did it - no one is calling them failures, Pricklypants and I both vaguely resemble functional, independent adults (myself more than him, obviously) - but we know something's up, and there are ways that have been proven to work for other families that I'd like to try for ours, for the sake of our kids. Every step forward isn't just a fight with the twins, it's a fight with their dad.

It's exhausting. Growing up, reading teen romance novels, I got this idea of what love and marriage would be. This is not it, but let's be realistic, that kind of romance is fiction, it might be based on something tangible, Pricklypants and I are not married, we've procreated, we've been together for nearly 5 years, lived together for 4 and a half years...But let's not forget that Pricklypants and I only dated 3 months before I got pregnant. He hadn't even graduated high school. We didn't build a relationship, we dove headfirst into it without taking a breath; we're not ready to make another lifetime commitment - we've already got the kids.

We don't have a perfect relationship, and most days we probably wouldn't say that we have a good relationship, but it works for now. We're live-in-the-moment kind of people, anyway. But if we expect that this is going to continue to work, we're going to have to work a little harder - communication, passion, parenting. It's been a circulating conversation for years now, we need to find some common interests, some time without the kids. That's the hard part, really.

I'm hoping we'll be able to start doing that. Pricklypants is possibly moving to full-time, so he'll be off two nights a week, and I'm hoping to utilize some respite on those two evenings so that we can do something as a couple. We need to work on us, if we're going to work as a team in this parenting thing...Now to get Pricklypants on board.

The good days

The good days seem fewer and farther between than I imagine they should be; but they are there. They're the rays of sunshine on your face after a particularly bad downpour. They're definitely much needed, a reminder that all the work, all the stress and the tears and the fear that we experience as autism parents, it's worth it. Every single second of it, though sometimes it feels like torture for us and for our children.

No one around here has been feeling the greatest. I ended up at the emergency room over the weekend because I was dehydrated and it had turned into splitting pain in my head. They gave me some anti-nausea meds and 2 litres of fluids and sent me on my way. The twins and Pricklypants didn't have it that bad, but they were all still not feeling the greatest. I kept Gage home from school to give him an extra day to get back to his usual overactive self, apparently that's how the school likes him.

So when today was one of those good days, it was a pleasant surprise. A much-needed bit of warmth to ward off the doldrums of a couple of chilly, sickly fall days.

First off, the twins slept all night, until 7 a.m. I didn't sleep well, but I wasn't upset about it, even though I knew a nap was unlikely, with keeping Gage home, because it meant that they slept well, and were hopefully feeling better.

We got up, the boys ate breakfast, then I threw together Gamble's lunch, got him ready and off to school.

Came home and had some cuddles with Gage, worked on ABC's and played a couple of games on the iPad. I left him to watch a cartoon while I did some things (mostly Facebook, let's be real - there was some laundry, but not much else). Then it was lunch time, so we shared some ravioli and a PB&J. Got cleaned up, more cuddles - it was a dreary, gray rainy day here, what better than cuddles and cartoons for a sick day? (It was supposed to be the twins' make-up field trip day...I'm not looking forward to when we actually get to take that field trip.)

And then, of all things unexpected, Gage got on the couch with me, and took a nap. I may have caught a catnap before I got up and went to get his brother from school.

Get to the school and Gamble's Mr. Bigman with his glasses on for 45 minutes, no fuss!

So he wears his glasses out to the car, to the grocery, through the grocery while he pushes the little cart (with lots of assistance, but it was his first try!) - he did so awesome, I was one proud mama!

He finally took his glasses off on the ride from the store to home, but when we pulled into our driveway I put them back on, massaged his hands and got him out of the car...he lasted another 15 minutes at home, but took them off while I was cooking dinner, and has refused to let me put them back on (maybe because when I tried after dinner, Gage walked up to him, gave him a head tilt like 'wtf?' and walked away...). But he still did great today!

It's been low-key, but those small successes, and the one-on-one time with Gage all day and Gamble at the grocery, made this a great day. In autism life, it's the little things.

#WorldMentalHealthDay

Today is #WorldMentalHealthDay, so let's talk about it. The things no one likes to talk about...the things we tend to hide, because we don't think other people understand. And some of them may not, but one in four people are affected by mental illness, and the rate is much higher in my house, and in my family, in general.

(Source: https://healthnhappyness.wordpress.com/tag/mentalhealth/

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I had social anxiety from a young age, probably stemming from a traumatic childhood. I was awkward, I didn't fit in, but I didn't stand out. It seemed that in school, my lack of social skills was always linked with my intelligence, but never in the way I needed. I was accused of acting as if I felt I were better than my classmates, by an administrator who should have known better; the reality was, I didn't understand why, if I knew the answer and someone else didn't, I shouldn't give the answer. And so, it was my fault. My attitude was the problem. In my mind, my attitude was fine.

Things got better when they got stable, I noticed, but that didn't stop me from experiencing depression in my teens, and still to this day.

But when, for the first time in my life, my mom settled down with the man to whom she is still married, and I got to stay at a school from middle school until graduation, my 'attitude' changed, well, at school, anyway.

I was often told I was "too smart for my own good" and I never felt like I fit in anywhere...which explains the many "phases" I went through (goth, prep, nerd - well, let's be honest, I was always a nerd!).

I certainly didn't "find myself" in high school. I got along with everyone because I was no longer the "new girl" - I became one of them, kind of. I know people still thought I was odd, but I found a group of equally odd characters, between academic team, drama club and all the other extracurricular activities I threw myself into. But then there was a bump, a really big bump, in my road and I derailed. Junior year was a rough one for me. I bounced back senior year, and really found myself in college, though.

That's not to say I've not battled my demons, as has everyone...more just to say, hey, I've had them, too. I still have them, only now, I can put them in those little monkey harnesses and take them for a walk (only kidding, we don't have monkey harnesses...oh, and my kids aren't demons, most days).

Being a mom is hard. I feel like I'm screwing it up, every day. I mean, they're still alive, so I must be doing something right (always look on the up side!)

But sometimes depression takes over my life; all I have the energy to do is sit on the couch with them and watch movies; go through the motions. They get home cooked meals, not every night, but who is counting? They have clean clothes, they get bathed, they're loved. Even in my worst moments, they're loved.

So yes, I suffer from depression, and I'm using that expression because it is suffering. It's not a fun world, when you feel constantly at fault for no reason perceivable to others, when you're just sad-to-the-bone for the most minute of reasons (ugh, I have to go to the grocery? put real pants on?! and then I have to cook dinner?)...

Depression makes me tired; I don't want to use it as an excuse, but there it is. I'm tired. But it's not just depression, it's my lifestyle - I'm a caregiver to twins on the spectrum, I live with an adult who is probably on the spectrum, I'm an adult who is probably on the spectrum...It's my weight, it's my medical conditions (fibromyalgia, chiari malformation)...I have a diagnosis of anxiety and depression, as well.

And you know what? It's okay. That's all I wanted to say...is that it's okay to not be okay, but it's also okay to ask for help, to talk to someone, to let it out.