Some people wake up to the sunshine. Some people wake up to the smell of coffee. Some people wake up the sound of giggling kids.
I wake up to Autism. We wake up to Autism. To loud, screeching, screaming, pounding Autism. To furious, fists clenched, teeth grinding Autism. To a hundred reasons why that day isn't worth even fighting for.
Everyday.
Everything is wrong. The room is too dark. The light is too bright. The house is too warm. The chair is too cold. The cereal is too crunchy. The bowl is too full. The pants are too tight. The shirt is too scratchy. The socks are too stretchy. The coat is to hot.
Everything is too much. Every single day.
The first hour of my day is hell. I begin everyday like this. Every single day.
Every single day we fight over just getting out of bed. Everyday I fear this might be the day when he stops threatening to hurt me or himself and actually does.
Everyday I wake up with this monster that lives inside of a little boy that never asked for this. Everyday I watch as the medicine kicks in that will tame that monster, if even for a little while. Every morning I watch him eat and then throw up because his stomach is a mess after the chaos of the first few minutes of the day. Everyday. Every single day.
Everyday we struggle just to get out the front door and into the car. Every morning we drive to school as I watch the color drain out of his face as the medicine begins to take him captive. Every morning I drop him off at school, knowing that the next
6 hours could go well or he could fall apart at every chance.
Everyday I take a deep breath as I drive out of the parking lot and remember that in that last hour I have been held. Through the chaos, through the noise, through the darkest hour of my day, I have been held by the One that understands.
With out fail. Everyday I am held. Every single day, when I don't even have the words to ask Him for help. Every singe day when I am so mad at Him that rather then trust Him, I want to scream at Him. Every single day.
Everyday.
