Another day started too early, with grumping and hurrumping and fighting before even getting to the breakfast table.
Tears of frustration being cried at not even 8am. A sad Clara went off to school, asking me once again “why does Polly hate me so much?”
Of course Polly doesn’t hate her sister, but it can certainly come across that way. I futilely tried to find answers when we got home.
Polly shut down, her face became angry, then the jumping started. Tears turned into a full blown meltdown, communication was lost. I waited for the red mist to pass.
Comforted her when comforting was allowed, and we moved on with our morning as best we could.
All day my head has felt like it has cymbals going off inside it, goodness only knows what it feels like inside Polly’s head.
Days like today make it impossible to learn. She’s switched off, disengaged from me and the world, can’t concentrate even when she tries to.
Days like today are all about damage limitation, and raising happiness levels. Making sure she isn’t violent towards Freddy, but he’s two. He can be annoying as all toddler’s can, and it’s hard to always intervene in time.
I try and make sense of it. I can’t. No matter how much progress we seem to make, the glimmers of success are too short lived.
A few weeks of sleeping fairly well have been replaced with messing around on the way to bed, waking up at 3am and starting the day far too early.
It’s hard to function when we aren’t sleeping, and it’s been seven long years in this house. Patience wears thin, you know all the things you should be doing, but it can feel impossible to actually do those things.
It’s so very hard to understand your child, whose behaviour is as spiteful as it can be to your other children. In moments of clarity though, she looks at me with those big blue eyes, and says “I can’t help it mama, I can’t stop myself!”
Then the tears come again, and she says she’s sorry and that she’s going to try and stop being mean.
“I’m so sad” she tells me. I hug her and give her all the love I’m capable of giving.
There are many things that are hard about being an autism mama.
But the hardest thing is not being able to make her sadness go away.