WTF!

"What the Fuck?"   I seriously don't feel I have this out of my system yet. Life has hijacked my free time of indulging in writing and to take time tonight, well....."What the fuck? Why not?"

Since the end of March I have seen the inside of a crisis center, not just once, but by Wednesday, a grand total of three times. Trust me when I say that there are thousands of places I would rather be, than the stark clean room that reminds you of a hospital. It is not a hospital but the whispers in the walls speaks of it.

I get nervous and my heart races no matter how many times I go. No matter how many times I leave out the door.

Ha! Ha! It should be me going! It would make things a lot easier..cause I know ME! I understand ME! If anyone can help ME, its ME!

Its not me, though. The fear, the inability to swallow while I wait staring at the same damn picture on the wall that has been there for all these years. There should be a fucking spider web in the corner of the damn thing, but alas, it remains sparkling and clean. Beside me sits my son and I am at lost and afraid. I watch him and it is a repeat of all the times before. I do not know how to reach him and it frustrates me. I use to know how, but somehow he grew up on me, and he seemed to become more remote and quiet in so many ways.

"Just look at me! Tell me what you are thinking! Tell me please how to help you...how can I make things better so that we don't keep ending up here in this damn place."

Alas he looks at the same picture and remains as silent as the room we sit in. So I think about other things. My daughter, who, when I try to talk to her and help her, remains defiant and so fucking hardheaded. Without realizing it, my mouth drops open over the light bulb that flashes. "She is just like me, damn.......Mama I am so freaking sorry I put you through that.....Of course when it was me in her shoes, it was knowing my grandmother was right that pissed me off and made me fight so damn hard against her.

My son is different. There is no defiant energy about him, there is no stubborn, "I will do what I fucking want regardless"

Instead there is this firm resolve around him, that he did nothing wrong and now here he sits "in trouble" once again. He has come to see crisis as not a help but as a punishment for making another mistake. "You did not tell me I could not JOKE about it."

I did not tell him he could not joke about it, I assumed that by what I did say was enough to cover any and all.

He is autistic. I never forget that he does not think on the same level as me, but at a much higher and simpler level.

I need to write this shit down. Then I should go back and give every possible occurrence and the appropriate response or behavior. He does not catch on to the sameness....he has to be taught every occurrence individually and  how to respond to it specifically. We, well.....we just fucking know..we are capable of thinking and analyzing something and knowing that even if it is NOT the same incident moment by moment, word by word, that it can still be handled in a similar manner..

There should be a damn manual on this ....seriously.

Of course there is no manual on this YET! Maybe I should tell him to write down each incident and I can give him the appropriate way to deal with it....wait a fucking minute.....that is what Social Skills classes are for, for ones with Autism...Anyone heard of those classes before?? Well it is classes that teach an individual how to deal and approach a social situation in an appropriate manner. Hmmm...I think there are a few out there (not autistic) that could stand to take these classes.

He gets bullied and picked on, he is a target because of his differences and the fact that after to much he EXPLODES. Umm the official term is Explosive Disorder. Ok so he needs these classes so that he can handle this with more efficiency. It is a damn shame that the bullies don't have to take such classes. It is apparent that they suffer a similar, well... lack of social etiquette.

"Since he left regular education and is back in special needs, how much social skills teachings will he be recieving. It is apparent that it is a social issue in the end.....

"Ummmm....well....we don't actually have these classes, but sometimes I may incorporate it into my teaching when I feel the need."

"WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!"

"My son is autistic, worked hard to get mainstreamed and socially suffered.He needs more social skills help and you don't really do that?? Did I miss something?For all its worth, it was be easier and less drama to home school him."

So I sit in the crisis center and I stare at the wall because I find the spotless picture rather depressing at this stage. I wished that my pictures on my walls were that damn spotless. Maybe they would be if our high school had social skills classes....for my son and the rest of these misguided teens. Maybe we could even incorporate a night class for some of the parents too. Maybe in the future we can have a 26 book reference of every possible occurrence or situation with every way of handling the right way. Hell, we can even have an electronic pocket edition for those emergencies.

For a moment though, my throat closes up, my chest aches, and my eyes start to burn. I hate doing this alone. I have made every trip to crisis with him alone. I have rushed to the school for every meltdown alone. I would reach the door and my legs would go weak in fear. How can I do this alone? Then it occurs to me, rather painfully, that I have done it alone so damn long, that I never realized I was alone in doing it.

"Hello Mrs. Daley, Hi Jesse."

We stand to greet a face we have gotten to know so well.

" So Jesse, where is my lunch......."

At this point I have to laugh as it beats the hell out of crying. You have to love the random moments of someone with a sense of humor, or you just might scream!