Whoa is Me

I’ve been having myself a bit of a pity party lately. And the past few days have been really hard days. At least my pity parties have been on the elliptical at the gym or in spin class and not over a container of chocolate peanut butter ice cream. So my butt can thank me for that.

But I haven’t been feeling well (like for the last 6 months), I’ve been to the doctor and it’s either allergies or silent reflux (getting old is no joke) and they want me to go to an ENT but ain’t nobody got time for that. And I get the worst foot and leg cramps at night so I’m tired and grumpy.

We’re about 2 weeks out from our trip to see the doctor in St Louis and to say Sporty and I both have anxiety is an understatement. The good news is, the month of no running (which was ridiculously hard for Sporty) has come and gone and she is pain free! The rest and the gel inserts have helped and she’s fired up about her first softball tournament this weekend.

In addition to the looming of our St Louis trip, Young Jedi was diagnosed on the autism spectrum a few weeks ago (there I said it and it feels so liberating to admit his diagnosis), his diagnosis would be Asperger’s, if that still existed. {Don’t even get me started on that and how we’re failing so many kids by not recognizing Asperger’s.} I finally found a doctor who would listen to me, who probably thinks I’m a bit Bat shit crazy but didn’t blow me off or ignore me. He listened to my concerns, he saw I was at my wits end and on the verge of tears when he wasn’t going to meet with us because we were there with a sleep study and he’s not a sleep doctor, but he took the time to go over Young Jedi’s current diagnoses and current troubles and came up with the diagnosis I have asked about for years, with 3 different doctors {insert rolling eyes and frustration}. He even offered to call into our 504 meeting to offer suggestions for support for Young Jedi. I’m at peace with the diagnosis because the more I read about Asperger’s, it’s like the book is being written about Young Jedi. The diagnosis also connects a lot of dots for us. For years I’ve felt we’ve been missing something with him, that it wasn’t just ADHD and anxiety but more. I thought it was a sleep disorder so I went in expecting to leave a neurologist with some sleep meds but walked out with a kid on the spectrum, official diagnosis is atypical autism. I feel like I can take a deep breath and breath (minus the allergies or acid reflux that I have). I’ve found some really supportive friends here in Arizona who have connected me with speech therapists and friends who have kids on the spectrum and I am so thankful for the kindness that they have shown me. But I’ve cancelled two girls trips because as much as I need some mommy time, my kids need my time more.

But you guys, I’m tired. I’m over clubfeet. I feel guilty saying that but I am. I try to be all “we were given this for a reason, we got this, this will make a great story and Sporty is an inspiration.” But seriously, I’m over it. I don’t want it anymore. I know the doctor in St Louis is the best, but I don’t want to go to St Louis for treatment, I want to volunteer that day at the school book fair. I want to take Sporty to softball practice in Scottsdale that night. Sporty is so passionate about softball and is working so hard and getting so good that the thought of Clubfoot ruining it for her makes me literally sick to my stomach and keeps me up at night.

And life these days for kids is hard enough, I don’t want Young Jedi to have any additional obstacle. I want him to have friends. And I don’t even know where to start with autism. At least with clubfeet I had 16 weeks of being pregnant to prep, now I just feel like I’m treading water while a giant sea monster (Young Jedi’s current obsession which I’ve learned is part of Asperger’s) tries to pull me down.

It feels good to admit Young Jedi has Asperger’s. I’m proud of him, we wakes up every morning and tries to fit in a mold that wasn’t meant for him. Now that I know he’s not just a giant a-hole, that he literally doesn’t understand the world, I try to see the world through his eyes. His mind literally never turns off. He’s always seeking to understand this strange world that he sees with an entirely different set of filters. I really wish I could see the world for a day through his eyes. I love him for who he is and his beautiful mind and how he sees the world and putting it out there that he falls on the spectrum makes me feel like he can never feel I’m ashamed of him, like I’m trying to hide a piece of who he is. So while I want him to have an easy life I’m grateful for a diagnosis that will get us the therapy and programs that will help him thrive.

But sometimes I just want to have a pity party. Adulting is hard, life is tough, but I know we’re tougher. See you tomorrow spin studio for that pity party (but only because Poppa Bear ate all of the chocolate peanut butter ice cream because I would totally be getting involved in that right now.)

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