When Special Occasions bring Out the Worst in Everyone 

special occasions are hard!

Yesterday was Father’s Day, and possibly our worst day as a family this year. In 2015 Mother’s Day won the accolade. Last year it was Hubby’s birthday.

Special occasions are hard for kids on the spectrum

Which in turn mean they are hard for the whole family. The expectation of them. The desperation to break away from the grinding norm. To just have a lovely day, like everyone else.

Or at least have the type of day everyone else is claiming to have. You never really know the truth do you? Certainly can’t trust social media, with it’s portrayal of the very best bits.

Yesterday started with so much promise

I really thought it would be one of those special occasions we’d look back on fondly. The sun was blaring. Everyone had slept okay. Hubby got a great lie in, and an extra two hours shut eye. The children took him up coffee in bed, and his card and pressies. I made a full English breakfast, which we ate with smiles on our faces.

Then, not even an hour later, it all changed

The kids saw some of the neighbours’ kids out, and wanted to join them. They all concocted a plan to take paddling pools onto our shared field and play.

“But what about our lunch out?” My desperate husband asked with a pleading look in his eyes. “It’ll be fine,” I told him, “We’ll let them run around with their friends first, then catch a slightly later train.” He wasn’t happy with the last minute change, but I was convinced that we’d have a better chance of a successful afternoon if we let the kids do what they wanted to do in the morning.

I was wrong, on a monumental scale. The opposite happened, and it was a disaster

special occasions are hard!I won’t bore you with the gory details, but it’s left me feeling deeply sad. For us all, but mainly my husband who does so much for us, and didn’t deserve what happened yesterday.

There are no winners in my family at the moment. Just a bunch of unhappy souls who can’t even come together on so-called special occasions.

Every week I tell myself I can do this.

I tell myself I can rise above the challenging children.

I tell myself that I am made of strong stuff.

That I’ve been through worse.

That my kids are beyond privileged to live the life they do.

And on an almost (if not) daily basis, I realise how close to breaking I am

The trouble with autism, as I’ve mentioned before, is that it doesn’t care less about your fragile state of mind. Or that it’s Father’s Day. Or that there are much bigger things going on in the world and on your doorstep.

Autism makes everyone selfish, because it is all consuming.

It’s strewn into the noise and the silence.

It’s evident in the unreplied to messages.

The friends who can’t seem to find the time for you anymore.

It’s in lines around your eyes, and the tiredness in your bones.

It’s in the cracks and crevices of your soul, which is constantly chipped away at. Leaving you to wonder what will be left. 

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