More Than Just A Job

Today I clocked out from the job I have worked for the last seven months, for the last time.

It wasn't a fancy job. I was a simple sales associate/front desk lackey with part time hours. So, why am I emotional about leaving?

I will tell you the story from the beginning, as all proper stories need to be told. I had realized about a year ago that I needed to work. Outside of the house. I had just come out of the closet and began the process of ending my marriage. And it just hit me.... I have to get a job. Like, where I get hired and clock in and someone pays me a set amount. I hadn't done that since I called in to work the day I went into labor with Diva Girl, who is now seven. I'd worked retail and child care, never finished my degree, and wasn't exactly seeing much for myself in the job prospect department. But I put together a pitiful little resume and sent it out into the world. I went to interviews. I got rejected. I felt embarrassed. All the time, hearing someone else's words inside my head, wondering who on earth would hire me? 

And about 3 months in, I see an ad on craigslist. I call, I apply, I have a little flurry of hope and try to squelch it when they call me back. Much to my shame, I arrive late to the interview. Imagine my shock when they offer me the job! I totally played it cool though, and waited until I got home to do my awkward happy dance that involves lots of flailing limbs.

The first day I was so nervous I thought I might have to duck into the bathroom to hyperventilate for a bit. I have a pretty well documented problem with anxiety that manifests itself in a serious issue making phone calls. And what did my new job require? Oh, just answering the phones all day. And making phone calls all day. My therapist encouraged me to take the job in part to overcome this issue and there were times in that first week I questioned her credentials because it seemed like the stupidest idea ever. But, slowly, surely....I got used to it. It became just another little thing, no big deal. Something that was crippling just months prior! I can't tell you what that has done for me.

But the best thing about this job was the people. For one thing, I was getting out of the house and meeting grown ups! Real live grown ups! That was rather exciting in and of itself. But it became clear fairly quickly that I was working with some rather fabulous human beings. Within a few weeks, I was out at work, and felt completely comfortable. As time went on, these people held my hand through the ups and downs of the divorce process. The support that I got there was beyond what I could have possibly expected. And my boss? She'd been there and done that and had nothing but understanding and wisdom for me. I could not have asked for a better place to take my first steps.

And that's what this place was for me. It was a safe place to take those wobbly first steps into a new life. I remember holding that first paycheck in my hands and seeing that there was enough to pay the fee to file for divorce, with just $6 to spare. I cried. There was so much pride every time I got a check, every time I hit my sales goals, every time I made it through another shift. I had never experienced such independence in my adult life, making my own decisions and having my own money and feeling like I was doing my job well. It gave me some much needed confidence.

Today I clocked out and am leaving my safe place. I know it is the best decision, and I'm excited about the new opportunity I have. But I will always be grateful to the place who gave me a chance and helped me on me feet. They don't know it, but they helped me find a piece of myself. It may have been just your everyday, run of the mill front desk job. But for me? It was so much more.

Belated Birthday

For those of you who didn't notice, I had a birthday this past weekend.

For those of you who did notice, I'm sure you're thinking This is a grown woman, when will she shut up about her birthday already? Soon, I promise you.

Last year I wrote a little diddy about what I wanted to do before I hit thirty. I have another year to go, but it's fun to look back and see the things on that list that I can cross off. But even more fun is to look back on the past year at all the things I've done that didn't make it on that list.

- I got a job. Like, a thing where I show up and someone pays me for doing things pretty decently. I hadn't had a job outside of the house since the day I went into labor with Diva Girl, and I was so nervous. Nervous no one would hire me, nervous I couldn't do the job if someone did hire me. But I found a great spot for myself with really wonderful co-workers and the most understanding boss in the entire universe. Not too shabby.

- I filed for divorce. Big, scary, grown up thing to do. Not a fun process to say the least. But it needed to happen.

- I figured out what I like. It turns out that for many years I've just sort of absorbed what other people liked and never took the time to figure myself out. And you know what? I'm pretty awesome and pretty lame at the same time. I LOVE pop music, winged eyeliner, rum and coke, high waist A-line dresses, and trying new places to eat. I still don't like driving.

- I've grown as a Mama. I used to always be afraid that I was a bad mother. I'm not anymore. I love my kids with all of my heart and have had to do a lot of hard things for them this year, including some of the things listed above. The time I do spend with them now is more precious to me. And maybe they were even a wee bit too dependent on their Mama. Watching them grow is a beautiful thing.

-I got meds. You guys, this is really one of those things that people don't talk about but I go there anyways. It turns out that crying a lot and being kind of mean and not wanting to do anything is not really me! That is Depression/Anxiety Mamasab. The real me is here! The real me still cries over ridiculous things, but not all day long, and she is actually this really motivated and humourous person who likes sunshine and rainbows and singing really loudly in the car. I feel like myself. Meds don't magically make your life better, but the right ones can enable you to handle your life better.

- I got my nose peirced. Wanted to do that since I was 15. Also, I did get that tattoo and I will get more as soon as humanly possible (in other words, I need mo money.)

-I made a bunch of new friends. Met a ton of new people. That isn't an easy thing for socially inept me, but I'm so glad I did it.

-I kept a handful of old friends. The people who have been through the tough stuff with me and are still around? You are priceless. Many people either dropped me or had to be kicked out of my life because they were downright destructive. But I fought for some friendships, and they are absolutely worth it.

- I went back to school. Third time is a charm, right? But seriously, this is my time. I'm still pretty sure I must be crazy to take this on right now, but playing it safe hasn't been in my vocabulary this year.

-I loved. And have been loved in return. And that is the best gift I could have given myself.

Next year is the big 3-0. I can't possibly top the major spoilage that happened this year, but I'm thinking I can't imagine anything better than a big party. Who's in?

Me smiling the big birthday grin I had all weekend

Blank, Not Boring

I've come and stared at this blog every day for a week. I click on "New post" and look at that big blank space. Then I walk away. Because filling that space as seemed both alluring and very, very scary.

Writing, for me, has been about vulnerability. Sharing a piece of yourself is nerve wracking. It's like saying Hello, here's my heart, please try not to stomp on it. Add in the extra layers of being in the middle of the divorce process and not feeling like I could really say anything about anything, and you've got the biggest case of writer's block that you ever did see.

So, what's an autism mom blogger to do when she doesn't feel like she can write about her kids? There is so much more to talk about, but I'm not quite sure what to do with it, how to begin the conversation. I always thought of this blog as an autism blog, but maybe it isn't. Maybe it's just a my life blog, and my life is full to the brim of many, many more things. I still get daily views on my coming out post, and I'm pretty sure there isn't just a bunch of autism moms coming over to peek at that.

I attended an event last week that featured one of my favorite writers and human beings on the face of the planet, Glennon Doyle Melton. She is the reason I keep coming back here and staring. And she is the reason I am actually writing today. Because she made me realize that I need it. I think everyone has a way to tell their story. Some people draw, some people take photographs, some people cook, some people film, some people tweet, some people dance, and some people do sporty things. It may not always look like story telling, but anything can be, really. I hear that there are even some people who are really good at verbally expressing how they feel. Weirdos. But this seems to be my way.

So. Hello. To old friends, and new. Welcome to a new chapter. Stick around, it's bound to be interesting. Because a lesbian mother of three children with autism, who works and is a full time student and is going through a divorce, can't possibly be boring.... right? I'm sure I'll find something to write about.

Adjusting

New and different can be good. It can be bad. It can be both. It can be neither.

It sometimes feels like the majority of my life right now consists of new and different. Ever since I came out of the closet it seems like everything has changed. Almost every relationship I have has changed. I have a new job and a new van and new people in my life and a new outlook.

Anyone in Autism World can tell you that change isn't always the easiest on our families. We begin summer break this week and the schedules will be different and the people working with the kids will be different and there will be a whole lot of new. But among the chaos of their new and my new and our new, there are some things that never change.

Diva Girl is still a diva. She was awarded the "Spunky Spirit" award at the end of the school year, which surprised just about no one. She's a head taller than most kids her age. Playing with beads and her ipad while perched on the top of her dresser is still her favorite past time. And, much to my dismay, she still loves to sniff my armpits as soon as I break out the tank tops. She's still my girl. And she knows her mama loves her.

Rascal is still a rascal. He was awarded the "Best Smile" award, and let's face it...that just means he is still a happy little fellow who is about the cutest thing you've ever seen. He loves to climb and run and be chased. He is a cuddle bug who still can't figure out that sometimes other people need to breathe when you are hugging them (especially little brother...poor kid gets loved on a little too much sometimes!) He is my big boy. And he knows his mama loves him.

Vlad is still my little hoppy happy flapper. You can find him with a pillow or pillow case at any given moment. He still isn't the quickest to smile, but when he does the sun comes out and the birds sing and it is worth the wait. He is still content to just sit and watch a movie with you, especially Monsters Inc or Veggie Tales. And the boy can chug milk like nobody's business. He is my baby (always will be, even when he's 50). And he knows his mama loves him.

And me? Well, I'm still the same friend and daughter and sister. I still love to get completely wrapped up in a good book. I still have a serious affection for coffee drinks. I spend a lot of time filling out forms and juggling therapists and worrying about communication and complaining about cooking dinner. I am their mama. And I love them like crazy.

So, some things never change. Some things are worth holding on to. Some things are such a part of who you are that you couldn't change them if you wanted to. And as the years go by I'm sure some of those things about my kids will change. They will grow and they will evolve and they will learn and discover who they are. But I bet more than a few of those things will always be true, they will always be an anchor in the chaos. So whenever new and different starts feeling like new and scary, I can come back here and reread this and remember. Some things never change.

I'm Not Lost

Well, I didn't mean to fall of the face of the planet. But as you can imagine, I've been dealing with quite a bit after dropping my big coming out bomb. And, unfortunately, my laptop died and I haven't had a computer for a few weeks. Let me tell you, I have missed sitting at a keyboard and typing.

I think there has been a collective intake of breath and a question hangs on everyone's mind- Now what? What are you going to do?

I've been asking myself that question for weeks, months, years. I never saw myself here. I never saw myself with three kids with autism, facing a divorce. I never saw myself coming out of the closet and being vocal about my uncertainty in the religion I was raised in and professed for my entire life. This was not the plan.

But then, I've made a lot of plans in life and few of them panned out. I'm not really interested in thinking of a ten year plan at the moment. What I am interested in is figuring out what I want, which isn't quite the same thing. I'm interested in continuing to learn about myself and then following through on what I know that I want. What am I passionate about? What kind of life do I want to live? What kind of home do I want to create for my children? These are the questions that I find myself laying in bed at night, answering in my head.

Here's what I've got so far.

I am passionate about people. About changing lives, in small ways and on a large scale. I want people to think of me as a helper. In the year to come, I want to continue doing my job, which is providing women with a space to relax and pamper themselves and just plain feel good. I want to help change the laws in my state, both in the realm of autism insurance reform and lgbt rights. I am eager to help my parents as they begin a non-profit to provide financial assistance to families affected by autism. These are all things that challenge me and push me out of my comfort zone, but I think are completely worthy of my time and effort and discomfort. To know that you have helped people...is there any better feeling or purpose?

I want to embrace all the other things I'm passionate about. Reading good dystopian novels or young adult fantasy. Watching my nerdy shows like Doctor Who and Sherlock and Firefly (you can't rewatch it too many times). I want to keep trying new foods but also come to terms with the fact that I will never be Betty Crocker. And dancing. There must be dancing, there has been far too little dancing in my life.  I know people use the phrase "gay lifestyle" a lot. I don't really know what that means. The lifestyle I want involves nerdy fandom, poetry, red lipstick, cute dresses, dancing, late nights with kids who don't sleep, snuggles with three little loves, binge watching netflix, crockpot meals, holding hands with a woman I love, liquid eyeliner, IEP meetings, and writing in this very blog. I just want a life that embraces all the things that make me, me.

Part of what makes my life good are the three little ones who look at me as their Mama. I spend a lot of time thinking about the life I want to create for them. I want their home, or homes, to be a peaceful haven. I want to teach them about being strong. I want to create a better world for them. Then I want to be sure that I teach them how to navigate this big crazy world that is so much harder for them than I could possibly understand. All three of them have birthdays approaching and I find myself swinging back and forth between nostalgia and looking ahead. It's true that the days seem so long and the years feel so short. Their futures are a mystery to me, much as my own is. I think we will all just have to hold hands and step into our futures together.

Yes, I've got a lot to figure out. I used to feel like that was some kind of weakness. That not having it all together would mean that you are falling apart. But I don't feel like I'm falling apart, I feel like the opposite of that. I'm growing up and taking responsibility and saying things with more certainty now than I ever have in my whole life. Even if the words are "I don't know", I can at least say them with confidence and security in who I am. And that, my friends, is a wonderful thing.

Coming Out

Well, I did it. I threw open the closet door and am now dealing with the fallout. (For the two readers who don't also follow me on facebook....I'm gay. There, you are all caught up!)

And trust me, there is a lot of fallout involved.

So why did I do it? I didn't have to go public. I didn't have to tell my whole world, which mostly consists of varying degrees of conservative Christians, that I'm gay. I could have stayed quiet, kept only those close and supportive in the loop.

Announcing it was a choice, and it was a very deliberate choice.

The first reason was because I have lived a lifetime hiding, sometimes even from myself. I'm done. I have no desire to keep quiet about a very important part of my life. I have no desire to hide who I am. I am proud. Never thought I would say that, but I am. I have probably watched this video a dozen times in the past few weeks, and there are a bunch of parts that really resonate within me. But the main thing is this: "No matter what your walls are made of, a closet is no place for a person to live."

Watch it. Trust me.

And within that reason is another. I wanted people to love me for who I really am. I didn't want to sit and wonder...would that person still be nice to me if she knew the truth about me? Would this person still be my friend? We all want to be loved and to be liked, it is only natural. I don't just want my mask to be loved. And now that I am out, I realize that I also don't want to be liked in spite of being gay. There have been those who have revealed that this is clearly repulsive to them, but hey they still "love" me. Sorry, that just isn't enough for me anymore. Love me, love all of me.

Maybe the hardest reason to verbalize is the fact that I also came out because I wanted people to understand that what they say matters. As a kid, the word "gay" was synonymous with "disgusting", "unnatural", "sinful", "abomination", and "repulsive". I heard it from the living room couch and the church pulpit and the desks in my classroom. As a scared teenage girl, I just wanted to be loved and I never wanted my friends and family to use those words to describe me. And so I repressed as much as humanly possible. I slid into a life of trying to please, a life full of depression and self hatred. What you say has an effect on the people around you, and you may not even realize who you are talking to. You may not realize when you use a gay slur around your buddies that you are driving a knife into one of their hearts. You may not realize that your evident disgust over a couple holding hands makes your friend terrified to be honest with you. These things matter, your words matter.

Two days ago, I got the words "I am significant" tattooed onto my arm. I got it as a reminder, not only of this moment in my life, but as reminder that I don't want to go back, even when it is bound to seem easier. Because it is easier, in some ways, to live a lie. It is easier to make people I love happy, to be able to see respect and admiration in their eyes. Being honest comes at a price. But the price of life as I have lived it has been sacrificing my feelings of self worth. I have felt small and scared and disposable for most of my life. For the first time I feel strong and significant and happy with who I am as a person. Again....a closet is no place for a person to live.

In the midst of all of this, my kids have been a bright light. They don't know what it means to be a heterosexual versus a homosexual. They don't care. They love me, all of me, fully and completely and wonderfully. I am their Mama. They are the definition of acceptance, of every kind of person. They could care less what the color of your skin is, what you worship, or who you kiss. The world has so much to learn from them. In the end...I have no regrets, because life has brought me them. Life has brought me here. And here is not a bad place to be.

This One's for You

It's been quiet here in my blog. It has not been quiet on the homefront. The past two months have been the most chaotic and intense months of my life. There has been a lot of personal growth and a lot of just plain scary life stuff.

And it has been killing me to stay quiet. At one point I realized that I had to write, so I did. And maybe one day I will publish the posts that I have saved. But right now I'm not quite ready to put that much of me and my life out on display, which is really saying something for the woman who puts everything out there, from my struggle with anxiety to crazy vaccine theory stalkers to the process of getting my kid diagnosed with autism.

To come on here and just  talk about the latest goings on with the kids would have felt somewhat disingenuous. And even now I don't quite know what to say. I just know that I felt the need to not just write for an audience of me. I felt the need to reach out and grab a hand. I felt the need to say "I'm here and I need a friend."

And isn't that the beauty about this? This blog has kept me connected to people I haven't laid eyes on in years and people who I have never met in "real" life. It has made friends and family aware of our struggles and our triumphs. It has kept my thoughts and my words alive, it has captured childhood and motherhood and marriage. There were times when I thought of the blog itself as a sort of friend, but that isn't right....it's all of you. And sometimes my words here haven't gone over well and I've been lost in the good opinion of others. There have been those who don't approve of what I've said. And there will be those who won't approve of the changes my life has undergone in the past few months. But beyond that, I know that there are others. The hand holders, the uplifters, the dance partners. I'm gonna focus on you.

I don't need a flurry of well wishes and concerned messages. I'm not looking to be questioned. It's good enough to just know that you are out there. Wishing me well and loving me. That, my friends, can keep a girl going. And that's what I've got to do- keep going.

Love to you all.

The Halfhearted Hippie

Have you ever been bitter about something for years without even knowing that was the emotion you felt until it hit you like a ton of bricks?

Well, if you haven't, just pretend with me. I'll start from the beginning, I suppose. 

I've always been fairly "natural minded". I have no idea where the inclination comes from. But I'd picked out the midwife group I would use prior to even becoming pregnant, at 19 years old. I knew I wanted to do things naturally for birth, and of course my research crazy self went on to discover breastfeeding, cloth diapering, attachment parenting...and when I started out as a young mom, I was so very proud of myself because I thought I was doing the very best for my baby. I mean, everything I read told me that by doing all these things, my kid would be healthier. As Diva Girl grew, it seemed like she had that promised health. She was rarely ever sick, never needed antibiotics. Her development was perfect. She happily munched on all manner of organic veggies (I was so incredibly obnoxious, I'm sure, bragging about how much she loved broccoli.)

And then? Shortly before her third birthday she was diagnosed with a rare autism spectrum disorder, Childhood Disintegrative Disorder. 

I felt....cheated. I was doing everything right, how could I end up with a child with, you know, "issues"? So then I thought- I can fix this! I read and read and saw people using diets and vitamins and I thought- YES! Up my crunchy alley!

Only, she didn't get better. She just ate less. And still lost skills and words.

So, we stopped. I mean, I still went on to have two homebirths and nursed the boys and that kind of stuff. But any time someone would suggest something "natural minded" to me, I would pretty much ignore them. A little part of me would just think- yeah, right, like that would actually work.

And I never really realized that somewhere along the way, I'd become this incredibly bitter person. I was so angry that I did all this research and invested so much of my time and effort and money and belief into a "natural lifestyle" only to be let down by it. And then, the almost daily barrage of people "informing" me that they or their cousin's sister's best friend's daughter had cured their kid by doing GFCF/going all organic/cleansing toxins from vaccines/using supplements. Each suggestion was like an annoying kick to my wounded self. I became defensive of my previous attempts at some of these things and of my current penchant of feeding my kids gluten laden nuggets and milkshakes. So somehow, all of this swirled around in my brain and I became this really inwardly nasty and closed off person from almost anything anyone would suggest to me to help anything from a cold to sleepless nights.

Of course, eventually I realized that I'm not looking to cure Diva Girl, especially after Rascal and Vlad came along with their own diagnoses. And I am sure that there are families out there that have been helped by the things I listed above. But my family isn't one of them. And that's ok. 

So I need to let it go.

I need to not get insanely defensive when someone recommends garlic and honey for my cold. I need to not go all inward eyeroll when anyone mentions GFCF. I need to let go of the bitterness. Because really, we are alright. Actually, my kids are fairly fabulous. Plus, they probably could use a good probiotic and multivitamin. And I kind of miss being a hippie sometimes. Maybe now, though, you can just call me the halfhearted hippie. 

Free To Change

I've always been a rather opinionated gal about certain things. Opinionated and, um, enthusiastic.

When I first started having kids, I was practically a hippie (not really, but that's what people tend to call us natural minded types.) I think all I could talk about during Diva Girl's first year of life was breastfeeding and natural birthing and vaccines and cloth diapers and baby carriers. I plunged head first into what was essentially a new culture to me.

Then autism came along. And while I was still having babies and caring about all of those things above, my focus switched. I inhaled books and studies and therapy ideas. For a solid three years, my focus was on autism, and early on I formed just as many strong opinions on how to be an autism mom as I did when I was focused on being a good attachment parenting mom.

Oh, how time changes things.

I think I may be both a less and more judgmental person now.

I gave up on cloth diapering with Vlad. When he weaned himself at 14 months, I was relieved. I am even reconsidering my stance on vaccinations (insert gasp here.) My kids eat chicken nuggets more than is possibly healthy. And for a woman who was allllll about attachment parenting and had planned to homeschool, I am more than happy to wave goodbye to all three kids every Monday morning. Getting in the highest  amount of therapy is no longer a priority. I go days without reading anything autism related, and even actively avoid reading the latest "Scientists discover the maybe, thinly possible, not actually proven link to the cause of autism!"

Admitting some of this is hard. Nobody wants to be the person who shouts an opinion from the mountaintops, only to recant later down the road. It makes me feel like a flake.

But the truth is, change is good. Change means that you are a growing, living, learning person. I'm still a judgmental person because I judge the person I used to be, and those who I meet who are like that. The ones who know it all. Who think that being right is better than being nice.

Honestly, I'm still there. I have those moments. You know, when someone says something on facebook and I see it as my duty to let them know just how wrong they are. Ugh, I can be utterly obnoxious.

I am learning. Learning how to change without being embarrassed by it. How to look at how other's are doing things differently without feeling as though it is a statement against what I am doing. I'm learning how to check out of the grocery store without being embarrassed by the dichotomy between the organic baby spinach and dino shaped chicken nuggets. Embracing being a happily public schooling attachment parent.
Learning how to adapt. And how to own up to my shortcomings both past and present.

I'm sure I will be passionate about something again, only to change my mind later on. Feel free to not point that out to me. Just love me anyway, flaws and all. I'll try to give you the same courtesy.

When They Are Well

I've been quiet. Too quiet.

Why?

Well, for one thing, things were chaotic for a bit. I moved a bit growing up and I never considered it to be such a major life event. When we had little enough stuff to throw into boxes in a couple of days, moving was not a huge deal.  Now, however, with three children...it was kind of a massive undertaking.

But that isn't the sole reason for my silence.

See, everything has gone fairly smoothly. The kids transitioned to the new house extremely well. They are adjusting to their new schools surprisingly quickly. And I have found myself without anything major with the kids to worry about.

What am I supposed to do with myself now?

I'll tell you what I did. Took a good long look at myself. And then I had a mini break down.

Guys, it turns out that I have some issues. And when I'm not 100% focused on my kids, these issues decided to pop up and say "Hey there! We're the stuff you've been repressing for a while. We're coming out to play!"

As it turns out, throwing myself into my kids is just another form of escape. I know I'm not the only mommy out there to do this. I mean, there is always something to worry about, to agonize over, to research and implement, when you are a mom. The laundry list of serious concerns for an Autism Mom is about a mile long. And how easy is it to hide behind that? To use that as a reason to put off dealing with your own inner struggles. But if there is one thing I've learned in the past month, it is this: My kids are my world, but they are not my identity. There is a woman behind the Autism Mom label. A woman with a past and a future, hopes and fears, passions and loves. I'd already been working on that woman for a little while, and I think that the stillness of a happier home I found more to deal with than I was quite prepared for.

And yes, I'm being purposely vague. There are some things that are still not fit to be shared with the whole of the internet. But I will say this- don't you worry about me. I'm okay. The thing about taking the time to really look at yourself, is that while it is terrifying...in the end, it leads to a richer life. A muscle, stretched and worked over time, becomes stronger. That is my hope.

So, thanks kids. You're doing alright. And so will I.

Changes, changes, everywhere!

Well, hello there. Did you miss me?

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. Let's recap:
I went out of town to a conference on 7/24
I came back on 7/28
We commenced moving into our new home on 7/29
Diva Girl's last day at the therapy center that she's attended for three and a half years on 7/31
Diva Girl and Rascal's first day at their new school on 8/1

Guys. I'm a mess.

Now, these changes are all great, grand, wonderful! It's just that they are happening all at once. But, in the end, I'm so very glad things have played out this way. Yes, it's been chaotic and it feels like I can't quite catch my breath. However, the past week has not only stretched my sanity, it's stretched my imagination.

I've never been a big dreamer. I'm practical to a fault. The conference I went to, I have attended once before, and my "practical" side kept me from enjoying it. See, I was surrounded by all of these positive, amazing women...and all I could think was "Yeah right, like I could ever be that successful. Or that happy. They are probably just faking it anyway. And even if they aren't, I don't even want to be like them. So there."

Real mature, right? The green of jealousy does not look good on me.

I ended up quitting my business not too long after that conference, convinced that I didn't have time for it and that it was probably just not for me anyway. Diva Girl was newly diagnosed, and I saw the few simple dreams I already had slipping away.

For the last few years, I've done a lot of focusing on the negative. The challenges faced, the sacrifices, the frustrations. As upbeat as I try to be, the back of my mind is always working on an unhealthy dose of anxiety and pessimism. With the diagnosis of Vlad, my inner voice took a pretty dark tone. All I could really think was- we will never have enough money, they will never have what they deserve, we will have three children who are dependent upon us forever, and poverty and depression will be my constant companions until the day I die. Yes, that was what I thought, behind smiles and the jokes.

And I am ashamed of myself.

That inner voice is bound to whisper again from time to time, but the past two weeks have changed my inner dialog drastically. This time, when I was surrounded by amazing and positive women, I found myself asking "Why not me?" I found myself realizing that I was going home to a new house that I never thought was possible. That my third child would be going to a therapy center that we have never been able to afford, but have been a part of for three and a half years. That week to week, we have people help us and reach out to us. Dreams have been fulfilled before I even knew that I should dream them.

So, why not imagine a better future? Heck, why not imagine a better now? And not just imagine it, but work towards it, sacrifice for it. Why not say "I can. They can. We can." Why not plan a vow renewal for our tenth anniversary (two years away tomorrow!) and a family trip to Disney? Why not plan on three kids going to college? It's all possible. And maybe it won't all happen the exact way I hope it to, but isn't it better to reach for the stars and make it to the clouds, than stay planted to the ground because I didn't even look up? I think it is.

So, here I am. In my new-to-us home. Working harder and dreaming bigger than I ever have before. And it feels pretty good, even if I am still a mess. Don't worry guys- there are some things that never change.

Letting Go

Eight more nights. Eight more nights of sleeping in this apartment, typing from this couch, listening to the whir of this old washing machine. I can't wait.

We will be moving into a house. A real house, no shared walls. Windows on all sides. A yard, a driveway, a fence. All the things we've never had. With the new home, we've been blessed with new (to us) furniture; couches and a dining room set among other things. 

I am terrified.

Why? Well, I'm not exactly a good housewife. I'm a pretty lousy one, at best. I have little to no idea how to decorate a home, how to make a place look....well, like anyone would want to live in it. See, we have been in survival mode for years and years now. I've never considered anyplace that we lived to be a real home. 

In case you didn't already know, this is our past home history:

-Married while in college and lived in what was essentially the "family" apartments on campus. Tiny. We furnished and decorated like college students, which is to say minimally and poorly.

-Hit rough times and moved in with my parents for almost two years.

-Spent several months basically couch surfing...essentially, we were homeless.

-Amazing friends took us in. We lived in their unfinished basement for almost a year.

-Back to the apartments at the university.

-Moved up in the world into where we live now- a two bedroom apartment. Furnished with whatever free furniture acquired over the years.

So, for a while, we've just been happy to have a safe place to lay our heads. We've never had enough room for all of our stuff. We've always had more kids than our space could reasonably hold. And these kids come with so much...so many therapist recommended toys and therapy related tools. Add in our addiction to books and my business products, and we are bursting at the seams. So somewhere along the way, I gave up. The mess always won, so why really fight it? Yeah, I sweep the floors (that I can see) and wipe the counters (some days), but overall I just kind of manage the mess, not conquer it. 

*Sorry Mom, I know this must be killing you to read*

I've known for a while that I have a problem with possessions. It goes hand in hand with my obsession with money. Almost everything I own was given to me. When you are poor and everyone knows it, people tend to give you things. And trust me, I am grateful. But, here lies my problem: It doesn't matter that I don't like jeans with holes in them- they fit me and someone gave them to me for free and I can't afford to go shopping. So, I end up with a closet bursting with clothes that I, at best, like okay, and at worst, don't hate too much. But I can't get rid of anything because I can't afford to replace it if I ever miss it! Go through this same mental song and dance with kitchen wares, kid toys, books, and just about any other item you might find in your home. I've had a tight grip on all of this stuff because I might need it. Or, sometimes, I held on because it fit some expectation I had. As though by possessing a certain toy, my children would show some new magical interest in imaginary play, or by owning an array of cookbooks, I would become a competent cook. 

So, I'm letting go. I'm shedding the drawers full of clothes that only "kind of" fit me. (As an aside: Prepare to see me wearing the same outfits. A lot.) I'm lugging away bins of toys that came highly recommended but have only been chewed up, lined up, or thrown. And the impractical items held onto for some imaginary future need? Gone. 

I feel lighter already.

I'm ready to step into a new home and not immediately clutter up the kitchen counters and dining room table. I'm ready to find a place for every thing. I'm ready to have a home I'm proud of. And bit by bit, I want to work towards replacing things that I loathe but hold on to out of necessity, like our not even close to full set of dishes or our threadbare sheets. I'm ready for my home to not be a place that so obviously stresses out my children and myself. I want to create a haven for our anxiety ridden spectrum family.

I know this won't solve all my homemaking problems. I still will be seriously lacking in practical storage. I still have zero home decorating skills (and a zero budget to decorate on.) And I still have three messy children that always come with plenty of stuff. But this is a start, a step in the right direction.

Goodbye stuff. I won't miss you.

Change Looms

In the next couple of weeks, my life will completely change.

Two weeks from today, we move into a new home. Three days later, Diva Girl starts Kindergarten and Rascal starts Preschool, in a completely new school. Eighteen days after that, Vlad starts attending an autism therapy center.

There will be so much newness. New therapists, new furniture, new clothes, new schedules, new routines. And as much as I love all of these new things, as good as these changes are- it's a LOT to handle. I fare only slightly better than my kids on adjusting to change.

Will there be meltdowns? You bet. Will there be anxiety? Already there. But I keep reminding myself that before we know it, we will be settled. Settled into our new home, with space and a yard. A yard. Our days of 2 bedroom apartment living will be over! The kids will be settled into a new school, a school with a spectacular reputation, a school that I hope and pray they love.

The best part of it all? I will have three hours, Monday through Thursday, without kids. Which I will absolutely need, since the moment I pick up Vlad, life will become absolutely insane. Between the three of them, there are 6 hours of speech, 4 hours of OT, 7 hours of behavior therapy, and other random appointments every week. How we will find the time, outside of school, I have no idea. But those three hours? They are mine. I can nap. Clean my awesome new home. Work my business (yes, I have a business on top of all this.) Have coffee with a friend. Talk to my husband without interruption from tiny people, before midnight. My mind is spinning with all of the possibilities!

So yes, lots of change is on the horizon. And while I don't love going through it, and I'm sure my kids won't either, I know that change is good. I just have to take a deep breath and brace myself.

3 hours a day. Light at the end of the tunnel.

The Middle Kid

Rascal. My dear, sweet, middle child. I look at this picture of him, and I smile because I see him rolling his bag like he's ready to go take on the world all by himself. When I think about Rascal, I think about his independent spirit, his love of adventure and diving into life headfirst, and his easygoing nature.

Unfortunately, I took to much of that for granted. I assumed too much.

See, this summer, Rascal has been thrown off his game. At three and a half years old, he has spent about half of his life in a fairly routine schedule, first at a therapy center and then at school. But this summer he has no regular routine, he has no classes. We thought he would be okay, with that. Unfortunately, he is adrift.

This summer seems to have been a perfect storm to create trouble for my little guy. It hasn't just been the lack of school. There has been a lot going on with the other two kids. You know, the less "easygoing" ones. And between the diagnosis of Vlad and the behavior issues of Diva Girl and trying to just survive a few weeks without The Husband, we let a lot of things slide with Rascal. Without even realizing it, I was doing much less with him and expecting less from him. We stopped expecting him to speak his requests because the other two aren't, and we could anticipate his wants and needs for the most part. It was easier, less time consuming. It was also wrong.

And now? Well, we have a little boy who stopped eating anything from the fruits and veggie department. His overall food intake has probably dropped about 50%. You never know when he will melt down over a train track not connecting well, or the expectation that he say "hi" to someone, or the demand that he put something away. He's not as happy.

Oh, the guilt!

I'm trying very hard not to beat myself up over this. I know he will be okay. We calling in some great therapists and we are committing to following through with what we know he needs at home. We've learned from this summer, and we know we won't let it happen again. But it just breaks my heart to know that I failed him. And even worse- that I know it won't be the last time that we make a mistake like this. With three kids on the spectrum, it seems impossible to meet everyone's needs, all the time. They all need so much, and they are all so different. How will we manage to give them all the individual attention they need? Don't even get me started on the financial aspect of providing them with the therapies they each need to be their best...

Deep breath.

Today is a fresh beginning. A new day with three little kids who are more than happy to teach me new lessons in life. Rascal, I will do my best to not let your middle child status and easygoing nature lull me into thinking that you somehow need less. Lesson learned, ok bud? Now...let's get to work.

The Mirror

Sometimes I have no idea how I ended up here and who that woman in the mirror is.

Today I gave a brief interview for a documentary about autism. Me. The girl who hyperventilated and ran out of my speech class in college (yes, there is a video recording of that somewhere...I should really destroy that sometime.) And it wasn't my first interview, in the past few months I've done three.

How weird is that?

Tonight I had dinner with an old friend who I haven't seen in years. During that time, we couldn't help but talk about a few things from the past, a few fun memories shared. But mostly we talked about now, the people we have become and the ways we've changed. I don't think College MamaSab would recognize me.

I got married young. Like, I was technically still a teenager young. I wanted the dream- the husband, kids, white picket fence. Unlike most people my age, the thought of travel and adventure terrified me. I'm scared of flying, hate driving, and was content to stay home snuggled up to a good book and cuppa tea.

Well, things didn't turn out exactly as I thought they would. Marriage? Turned out to be more beautiful, more difficult, and more amazing a journey than I anticipated. The six kids I wanted (Yes, six. I was insane.) got pared down to three. And parenting these three turned out to be more miraculous, more heartbreaking, more inspiring, more stressful, and more life-changing than I could have ever imagined. Don't even get me started on the house.

In the back of my mind, one of those things I always thought, was that one day when the kids were grown and gone, then maybe I would be ready for adventure. I mean, I started young, so I would be a young empty-nester. My parents, for example, really began traveling (and discovered a love for travel) in their fifties. I guess I thought that would be me some day.

How presumptuous. It never occurred to me that I may have kids that would not follow the norm, that I may have children who would need me, in so many ways, beyond that magical age of 18. It never occurred to me that my life could end before those days, that I may not have all the time in the world.

If there is one thing my life has taught me, it's that we have no promises.

Now, I'm not deathly ill. And no, I don't regret a thing. Not the marrying at 19, not the kids, not a single thing. Because if I had something different, if I hadn't had them, I would have never been brave enough or motivated enough on my own to do a darn thing.

See, the kids have taught me. They've taught me to enjoy my life more. I find myself wanting to try new things, things that scare me to death. They make me brave enough to step in front of a camera, in the hope of making even a small difference in the way the world views autism. And since there is no promise of empty-nest adventures, why wait? I may not get to travel the world anytime soon, but I can try new foods from interesting places, meet new people, have new experiences. I want those things now.

I used to be so afraid of new and different. I was afraid of trying because I was afraid of failing. Now I'm a woman who has her own business, has been involved in advocacy for autism insurance reform (me, calling Senators? HA!), and lives for moments out and about with friends. I am sometimes surprised at how much The Husband can still love me, considering that he married such a different woman! Thank God he does (at least, I'm pretty sure....he tells me so all the time. Lucky girl, I am.)

That woman in the mirror seems a lot like me (I still have a fabulous sense of humor, love a good book, and am awkward as the day is long) but a version that I never dreamed of. My kids- yes, their autism especially- have made me a much braver person. The only promises I really need are that God and my husband will stay at my side. The rest is all a mystery that will unfold as it may.

I look forward to years of discovery and adventure and doing things that scare me. Even having a few spectacular failures. I look forward to growing and changing. That woman in the mirror is a bit fabulous...I think I like her.

Change

It's eleven o'clock at night and the house is silent, except for the tumbling clothes in the dryer and the soft snores of Rascal.

But I can't go to sleep. Even though I know that morning will come in no time and I will wake with the same wish for more sleep that I wake to every morning.

I can't stop thinking tonight. I'm thinking about change, and how I am no good at it. It's one of my spectrumy traits.

Not just outward change. Not just the change of the time or seasons. Or even the changes of homes and schools that are upcoming events for our family.

I'm talking about a change of opinion. Even a change of heart.

I don't do well with acknowledging these things. It's easier to keep my head down and keep pressing on. It's easier to fight against the winds of change and bury my feelings than to deal with the emotional work of acknowledging that I don't know what to do next. That I may have been wrong. That we need to follow a new path.

What is harder? Venturing off the beaten path into the scary unknown or walking along the familiar road and knowing that it ends up somewhere you don't want to be? The answer may be easier for you than for me.

And so I sit in the almost-quiet and I wrestle with myself. I wonder if tonight's revelations will be tomorrow's changed actions. I wonder if I'm brave enough or strong enough. I wonder if the emotion will get swept away by sleep deprivation and routine and if tomorrow it will yet again just be easier to keep plugging along than acknowledge there could be a different way. A better way. Even if I don't exactly know what that way is.

I wonder.