Autism

The crummy week

This has been a crummy week so far.  I wish I could say differently, but I can’t.
Sometimes you just have crummy days no matter how you try to turn it around or “look on the bright side”.
To start off, it has been entirely too loud around here, mainly because my neighbor is having her in-ground pool filled in.  This process, I have found out, is not a very easy one…nor is it quiet.  All week long it’s been nothing but the sound of jack hammers and construction trucks for eight to ten hours a day.  I always thought my sensory sensitivity was more about bright lighting, but I’m learning from this experience and from the early summer demolition of my roof that I may indeed have issues with sound, too.  The machine noise is so jarring to my head, I hear it when it stops for the day.  It feels like it is in my bones!   It is definitely worse than the hammering of men working on your roof, too.
In addition to all the ridiculous noise, everyone here seems to be on edge.  Master Owen’s first week back to school has been fraught with weird sleep patterns, angry outbursts, some wild rages,  and plenty of tears.  Both his and my tears.
Master Owen is autistic, so OF COURSE he hates transitioning back to school.  He is filled with anxiety.  He won’t sleep.  He yells about how he hates school…he hates his teacher…he hates the bus…he hates homework (even though he hasn’t been assigned homework yet!)…he hates everything.  Of course, all this rage is directed at me and I just have to swallow it up.
On Wednesday morning, I found him on his knees, hands held in prayer, crying.  Of course it was heartbreaking, but I guess I’ve become somewhat numb to the behavior…or really good at solving short term problems.  Yay, me!
This morning he was complaining about his stomach (he suffers from bad constipation) and asking to stay home again.  It’s only the  fourth day of school!   I said I would drive him to school–again–and I promised him a playdate with his best friend in New Hampshire.  But ultimately what really worked was lying.

As an Aspie, fibbing does NOT come easy to me.  Anyone who knows me understands that and knows I am just not a good liar.  But it was the only thing that worked!  I told MO that the school had threatened to put me in jail if we didn’t improve his attendance this year.  It’s not THAT far from the truth; by third grade we have already received two letters from the principal about getting the truant officer involved.  Despite my horrible lying skills, my story seemed to work after I gave an elaborate explanation of what life would be like for MO if I were in the slammer.
Now.. add to this mayhem several doses of “bad puppy” behavior–why is it always MO’s new shoes?–and top it off with some seriously high anxiety from a combat veteran with PTSD as he navigates his way through the VA labyrinth trying to get approved for school (which, by the way, led to the destruction of my weed whacker).  And, for good measure, let’s add that I’m still aching from my fall in the parking lot on Tuesday and, well, I’m done with this week.

Seriously…one hundred percent DONE!
I’m throwing in the towel.
Sometimes you just have to do that, I suppose, to save your sanity.

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