When I was in the latter part of my teens I worked in a new age bookstore partially out of pure rebellion against the way I grew up. Partly for the shock factor.
And I learned a lot more, incidentally, about my spiritual self in those years than I expected. I learned to watch for synchronicities. I learned that there are no coincidences, that I manifest my own truth and purpose. I learned about visualization and positive energy and true peace.
Ten years later I found myself revisiting these notions with Oprah (ha!) as I battled some fairly nasty PPD after the boys.
And I am now deeply and truly depressed, and for the first time in my life it has nothing to do with the chemicals in my brain and everything to do with the fact that my baby is simply collateral damage to the world, sacrificed unknowingly, by me, on the alter of the greater good. And it's simply too much to bear.
It's a year later, nearly a year since the cat burglar that is regressive autism started stealing my baby, bit by bit until his smile was gone, his eyes flat, and I knew something was terribly wrong.
I am tired of explaining why we would have rather gotten whooping cough than autism.
I am tired of syringing supplements into him 8 times a day, though they are undeniably helping his health, and pulling him out from his isolation, giving us bits and pieces of him back.
I am tired of worrying every minute of every day how he feels right this moment, and what will become of him. How much Andrew will we get back? We have already lost a year of what we could have had. When will I stop counting my losses?
And if I fold and say, as long as he's healthy I am ok, am I dooming him to never fully recover? Am I dooming myself?
They say this is a marathon, not a sprint and that couldn't be more true. And I have only gone the first mile and I am tired. I want the damned finish line.
So there's this thing, this program that promises to help me help myself and my autistic son. It is all about embracing and joining him and reshaping the way you think about the world.
And I dare say my brain could use even more re wiring than Andrews. That damned dtap damaged me even more than him.