This was a hard night.

A good, though exhausting day, but a hard night.

Jamison was sick last night, so we didn’t give him his medicine this morning.

Autism + no medicine = not good.

Since he was sick last night, and we had Jam rehersal today, we let Jamison hang out in his room in his jammies all day, watching movies, playing video games, and generally chilling out.

Autism + lack of social interaction = not good.

Autism + lack of routine = not good.

You wouldn’t think letting a sick kid crash out in his room would be a problem. But it was. Did I mention:

Autism + illness = not good.

All of this culminated in the first full-fledged autistic fit I have seen in a couple years. A screaming, moaning, curled up on the bathroom floor fit. A repeating-phrases-over-and-over, crashing-his-head-against-the-training-toilet fit.

The old coping mechanisms kicked in. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him to the kitchen. I made him drink several gulps of water. I found a thick, heavy sleeping bag to wrap him up in, and the mere sight of it calmed him down.

I put the sleeping bag on his bed. I wrapped him up in it. He went to sleep.

But I cannot go to sleep. I am shaking, I am exhausted, but nobody has a sleeping bag to wrap me up in.

It used to be like this all the time. I don’t know how I survived. I seriously don’t know how I survived.

And what am I going to do if the preteen and teenage years hold more of this? I’ve already seen signs, some of the progress we made with his childhood self being overtaken by the preliminary surges of adolescent hormones.

We’ll cope, I guess. We’ll find some way to cope. But occassionally I wonder what will become of us.

What will become of him.

Can you tell I’m overtired???

Sometimes it seems overwhelming.

Sometimes it seems impossible.

Because in a way it is impossible. Jamison will not be “normal.” Jamison will be who he is, a wonderful, unique, incredible kid.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m okay with that.

Sometimes I think I am.

Sometimes I know I’m not.

Sometimes I wonder if I can afford to be that honest.

But right now, I’m too tired to be brave.

And honesty is all I have left.

I’m not okay. Not right now.

But I will be.

I’m going to find a sleeping bag, to wrap myself up in and cry.

And wake up tommorow to face another day.

Pray for me if you think of it. Because I am tired.