When My Well Is Empty

Unfortunately I don't write about the everyday things that would warrant a daily, weekly or even biweekly experience.  The Island of Autism and special needs is far more mundane than you think.  You see, us parents, teachers, leaders, go out of our way to try to make everything the same.  Changes in schedules, glitches in an everyday habit can throw our children and thus ourselves into a meltdown, anxiety attack or even as tonight proved a few flipped chairs, slammed doors and irrational yelling.

I sense you are either nodding or curious.  While tantrumming over a negative response Hannah flipped chairs, by "accident," Jacob interfered with everyone's personal space and screeched for about 30 minutes, John declared he needed space and locked his door, (the sanest of all reactions).

Slammed doors?  Oh, that would be me.  Irritable and snappy, that would be me too.  It was a long few weeks and today when school was out I was effectively on essential mode.  If you know Maslow's Hierarchy of needs I was pretty much at the base two tiers of the pyramid, although you can snip out the sex bit ;)

http://two.not2.org/psychosynthesis/articles/maslow.htm

My children would be of course given food, water, shelter, clothing and security.  Basically I was down to my absolute last enth of an ebb.  Of course you tell that to a child.  Now tell that to a child with hypersensitivity, hyper anxiety, hyper activity, and basically a need to treat your (meaning my) physical body like a lamp and they are the moth.  The more I pleaded for space, the more my two sensory seekers sought me out.  It wasn't anything mean either, just a need to feel loved, wanted, understood, held.  Still, by the evening I had nothing left in my personal well to give.  Even me, (and I know many close special needs parents can avow to this) was empty.My well was empty.

When this happens I simply need space, as simple as sitting on a bath tub with a locked door for 20 minutes; yet even then the fingers slid around under the door gap asking "Mommy...where are you!"  I found time to go walk for 30 minutes, I arrived back to hysterics as to where I had been even though they had an adult with them.  We were now in full fledged Autism and anxiety.  This continued all night in flurries and clouds of moments.  I flitted from crisis to crisis, like a ladybird with one wing.  When I felt we were all finally settled, out of nowhere I was asked something actually quite neurotypical, I don't remember what it was, most probably something simple and easy.  Yet my well was still empty.  I stormed down the hall, slammed a door, heard a picture frame crash on the ground and fumed quietly to myself.  Of course later I emerged and found my little girl playing with stickers.  I apologized and she hugged me no matter what.

Isn't is comical, we deal with the special needs as best we can,  maybe irritant and grumpily when overwhelmed,  but after that a typical child request just edges us into slamming doors and fractured picture frames?!  But, what a hug, and I know I didn't earn it.