Two of my children are on the autism spectrum. They’re both sensory seekers (and avoiders simultaneously) so they both do things that have neurotypicals going, “What the -! Why?” One of them is a very smart eloper, so there’s that too.
Suffice it to say that each day presents some very hairy challenges for me. So, to deal, I’ve said it time and again, I tend to eat my stress. It’s not healthy, but it’s my easiest way to get energy while also soothing myself, especially since a good night’s sleep is typically elusive.
So, what do I do to unwind after a demanding day? I sleep. However, the day doesn’t end until they’re asleep and I would’ve been already sleepy at least four hours before they conk out.
On days that seem to have been possessed by Murphy’s Law (my already difficult day on steroids), I comfort myself by getting a really decadent treat without any guilt. WITHOUT ANY FLIPPIN’ GUILT! Because I frikkin’ deserve it after the day I just had. I eat and drink fatty and sugary things and go shopping for books and plants.
But I can think back to a time when I could look forward to getting home from work or school, especially on a Friday, and getting ready for a readathon-cum-snackathon. New books, a comfy reading nook (any weather is fine, but some rain makes everything a bit cozier – for those already home, I mean), something sweet, something savory, a cold drink (I live in the tropics)… Those were the days.
My current life is an amalgamation of demanding days and, in order for me to reset from the snapping point of my perpetually overwound state, I get a few days off a year. My husband takes me away and I get to sleep and eat without being disturbed.
Oh! And, also, I sometimes get very sick, which allows me some respite as well. I shouldn’t, but I do kind of look forward to those times. Sad, but true.
This is making me sound pathetic, but it’s my reality, folks. I always thought I’d age (and adult – not a term from my time) gracefully, but I should’ve known better. Grace has never been anything I’ve had in spades as my dancing would confirm. God’s grace, on the other hand, is something this bumbling spiritual featherweight has gladly received throughout her life.
And this is where I will abruptly stop writing.
This Small Life 