Lately I feel like I’m standing in the middle of a vast ocean on a deserted island. I’ve crashed there with meager supplies, sent up S.O.S messages, but there’s no one answer my calls. No one for thousands of miles. My family and I exist on this island with just the meager supplies we came with to handle the situation we’ve been dealt, and no one comes to answer the call for help.
We used to at least have communication with “the outside world” (aka support) but now it feels like we don’t even have that. I guess you could say communication devices on this island seem broken. Perhaps there’s a negative feedback problem. In my mind, I analyze the problem and totally see why support dropped away. First of all, I’m on an island, for God’s sake. On this island, I’m busy working to support my family and never have time to try to communicate. I work constantly, until I fall into my bed at night. When I do communicate, I try my hardest to ask about others, but when I talk about my life, I often have very little to say that’s positive. I find that I’m extremely self-conscious about my conversations with others for this reason, and thus, I fail to even start conversations with people now. The fight to find something positive to say makes the communication so awkward.
Most people do not seem to understand what it’s like going through what we go through. I fear becoming embittered by the process of constantly struggling to get what we need for my son. I find myself doing the same thing for my students at work sometimes. I get extremely upset with coworkers who don’t understand children with emotional problems. I cannot break the connection between them and my own child in my mind. I do the same thing for children at work that I feel I must do for my child, so it’s like I’m always seeing injustices everywhere I go. My heart grows softer toward the children, yet harder toward the adults, and this anger has built up inside of me toward people who have no understanding of this issue. I’ve yet to find a way to combat it, and I know that I must.
Anger cannot reside permanently in my heart. It has no place there.
I am working on finding some inner peace. I don’t expect that we can ever expect our lives to just calm down. I have two children, one with Autism and one with me-ism (he’s almost three). My husband works as a store manager and I’m a special education teacher. Calm and peace doesn’t come easily to me. Picture schedules, routines, and carefully chosen words aren’t always enough to prevent chaos in my house. Going it alone, just us, I often feel lonely and even more stressed. Who do I call? Who can I message on Facebook? Who wants to hear from me? I think through it all on nights when my husband works or evenings when Squeaker’s in OT and I’m waiting and I think there’s no one and that I really have nothing of value to say anyway. If I’m in crisis and about to lose my mind because Squeaker’s beating up his brother in the car and I’m holding him back with one hand while driving with one hand on the steering wheel while he kicks me hard with the other foot until I let go and he goes at it again and I don’t know if I’ll ever really get home, who do I call? I think there’s no one. Somehow, because I know I only have myself to rely on, I find a way to make it stop. Somehow, one of the things I threaten to take away when we get home makes him stop. God help me if one day it doesn’t.
No one wants to go it alone, especially when they need people the most. When I see a friend really struggling, I make it a habit to do everything I can to help because I know how lonely it gets when no one shows up. I just feel like I’ve got no real tangible support to count on in return. I would like to come off of my island and join the mainland, but having connection with the outside would suffice in the meantime.