Into the unknown. Middle school.

8.10.2025

The first day of 6th grade is tomorrow. 

Anyone who's known me very long has probably heard me rant about how nervous I have been for middle school. Ever since I was PREGNANT, middle school has been the one big stress mountain that I worried about most. I've always thought and hoped we'd come across "The" plan, that would help us figure out the best was to do middle school.

And I suppose, in a very Heather-true fashion, we have. The Heather-true part being - it's exactly the one school I had expected us to NOT attend (ie., the same middle school I attended, nearly 30 years ago 🥴🫠).

I know this is the right step for us. We all do. 

*We, being - our little family unit - my partner and I and of course, miss now 11yo.

And tbh, if you'd asked me last week if we were ready, I would have actually said yes. Not likely overly confident or anything, but last week it dawned on me that we ARE actually ready.

I mean, as ready as you can ever be when you're about to jump into something crazy stressful and don't know what to expect.

We all have our own therapists and we're at least starting the year with optimism and determination.

That's gotta count for something, right?

Right?!?

No longer mine

May 19, 2025

I don't know how to process this. I don't know how to be transparent. Or share openly about my struggles. 

Because my struggles aren't just *my* struggles. They're OUR struggles.

It isn't something that's happening to me. It's a process that I have the privilege of standing next to. Standing with. Loving. Supporting. Teaching. Struggling with. Learning with. Trying with. Failing with. 

It's not my journey. Not really.

I mean, it definitely is. 

I am very much on this journey.

But I'm an observer. 

It's not my story to tell.

To talk about it would feel like such a betrayal.

To share the details of our struggles, feels so wrong on every level. 

I cannot let there be a hint of blame, not a taste of frustration or regret.

My heart is walking around in a world not made for her.

And I will spend every ounce of my soul bridging the gap.

That has never been a question really.

The part I didn't expect?

Feeling so isolated.

No one gets it. Not really.

I don't think they could even if they tried. 

Not really. 

But, the things is, I don't think they even realize there's a need to try. 

They don't know the extent of struggle and disconnect.

And so, they don't try.

And they don't know.

And I don't think they ever will.

I don't know.

I really just don't know.

I've been accused of "weaponizing" the fact that my daughter is autistic. Weaponizing. Because I tried to provide context that "an autistic girl said [such-and-such] and someone got their feelings hurt" and apparently I was responsible for that.*

*Or, that I didn't handle it better. And maybe I didn't. I probably didn't. Bc I have no idea wtf I'm doing most days and if we all make it to the end of the day alive, that feels like a success. I wish that was more of an exaggeration than it is.

But the thing is.

They don't know.

They can't know.

And I don't think I'll ever be able to tell them.

Not like this.

Because my heart is walking around in a world not made for her.

And I will spend every ounce of my soul bridging that gap.

A gap that most people don't even realize exists. 

And even the ones that DO know the gap is there - they act like we're supposed to act like it's NOT.

Like we're supposed to pretend our souls aren't stretched across this great divide, taking every ounce of our strength and understanding and effort to just f*cking survive.

Like we're supposed to act like everything is status quo and that the biggest issue we have to deal with is whether someone's feelings got hurt by something we did or didn't say.

I just can't.

They don't understand.

And for anyone not willing to walking next us, so they SEE, so they KNOW... 

There is no telling. 

And I guess I'm realizing there never will be. 

Because my heart is walking around in a world not made for her. 

And nothing else in this world matters as much to me, as seeing her loved and safe.

unpublished thoughts

11.22.24

I wish I could express to you the amount of effort and energy it takes to survive a "normal" week of "typical" society. And I mean, survive. Not accomplish, not succeed, not thrive or learn or grow, just - survive 

***Note: NONE of this is her fault in any way whatsoever. The last thing I would ever want her to think is that she caused any of this stress. She didn't. She is literally the most amazing person I know, and I'm more proud of her than I could ever begin to express. I am so grateful for who she is and would never wish it any other way.

Unfortunately, our society is not built for autistic individuals, let alone autistic children trying to make sense of the world. (That said, the advocacy efforts for neurodivergents has been amazing, and I'm truly hoping to see more true cultural shift in understanding and acceptance -ie, accommodation.) 

2.18.25

See how I buffer everything I say about being autistic and living with an autistic child? And even pointing that out feels like a betrayal. 

And that's not fair.

I don't even mean that it's not fair to me. It is not fair to all of the neurodivergent people trying to survive every day of their lives, holding themselves to a standard that wasn't created for them and feeling unjustified and discredited any time they try to express how difficult it is.

Because it's not difficult for "other people." To those who haven't lived this experience, it is nearly impossible to understand. To those for whom this standard of living suites, it seems ridiculous. It sounds outrageous and overly exaggerated.

And that judgement becomes so internalized that we gaslight ourselves into believing it's not actually as bad as we feel it is, as we experience it to be.

We minimize and down play; we convince ourselves we're just struggling today / this week / this month. We forget how bad last year really was. Those traumatic experiences from three years ago feel blurred, and because we're in such survival mode from day to day, there is no looking back to assess or try to heal. There is only, getting through today and preparing to survive tomorrow.

I realized the depth of this recently. I am realizing the extent to which I had forgotten how truly bad it was. 

And I was shocked. 

Shocked that I'd forgotten. 

Shocked at how bad it actually had been. 

I know this because I recorded one of our meltdowns. One of the really bad ones. I'd forgotten about the recording and stumbled upon it.

It was bad. It was shocking. It was heartbreaking.

And honestly, not because of the meltdown itself. But because I'd never told anyone about it, not even myself if I'm honest. We lived through that day, and I put it behind me and I forgot about it. But my soul hasn't. We carry the grief and shock of that experience, and the fact that there is no validation for it, any where or from anyone.

A poem

*A poem I wrote for my Dad's 70th birthday, because I was traveling for work and couldn't be there in person. 12/13/2024

Wholly Unwaivering

So much you gave

Your time. Your strength.
Yourself.
Dutifully. Wholly.
Unwaivering.

Depth
And safety,
Found
In your love,
Your support.

Deep pools of
Acceptance,
And space
To be.
To be myself.

You'd say,
"It's not what's wrong with you.
It's what's right with you."
Oh dad,
You're just saying that.

And again,
"It's not what's wrong with you.
It's what's right with you."
Oh dad, I know, I know;
you always say that.

And again,
"It's not what's wrong with you.
It's what's right with you."
Oh dad, I wish it were;
But I just don't know.

And again,
"It's not what's wrong with you.
It's what's right with you."
And again. And again.
And again.

And one day,
I believed you.
I saw it. Somehow
You'd snuck it in and planted,
Deep in my soul

Acceptance,
And love.
Assurance,
And peace.
Determination,

To be.
To trust.
To learn.
To fail.
To try again.

It's been a long road.
A long,
Long road.
And yet,
just a blink.

You,
Your road,
Paved a way
For us
To be, us.

To love, and give;
To believe in more.
To learn and examine.
To fight for truth.
To live, wholly, unwaivering.


----
Dad's Poem, Alternative Edition
A door's not a door
When it's ajar

day in, day out

Poignant memes and sarcasm 

My coping mechanism 

Dark humor 

Cynicism 

Wry retorts

A resignation that this 

is life now.

Dry.

Hard.

Tired.

"And that's okay" 

Because it has to be okay

But it's not okay

Take a breath

Feed the body

Step into tomorrow 

Again

And again

And again

And again and again.

And again. 

And. 

Again. 

And I'm tired.

Shelley

Radiant and beautiful,

More than words convey;

Full of love, and life, and moxie.

You loved so fiercely;

Unwavering, unreserved.

Withholding no measure

Of love, and acceptance,

And pride in those you loved.

Not in accomplishments,

Or deeds, ability, or effort.

Only because, we're yours.

And to be yours, is to be loved.

Accepted, cherished, and celebrated.

To be yours, was an honor, a privilege,

A bastion I'll treasure forever.

So long

2023 kicked my ass.

Legitimately. 

Very badly. 

In more than a few significant ways. 

I'm sure some nice things happened too.

Mostly because, it's statistically likely that I did have some fun, enjoyable moments in the course of a whole year. 

And yet, if I had to recite from immediate memory, the first five things I remember from this past year, they would nearly* all be terrible, no good, very bad things.

*The one notable exception being - we procured our pop-up camper ❤️ 

Ironically* to me - my lowest moment came after a six-week migrain-a-thon - when I slammed into a proverbial wall of hopelessness and fear. 

*I can never remember if I'm using "ironic" correctly or not, but I stand by it, even in its likely wrong-ness. 

I say "ironically" because - it seems odd to me, in retrospect, that *that* was my lowest moment. 

Because, on December 6, I was fired.

Abruptly.

Unjustifiably.

Fired.

There's "less than a thimble-full" that should be said here. 

The main take-home is -

#1 - how incredibly shocking it was, and

#2 - how unsurprised I was

These sound completely opposing, but they're actually -really- not. And while I am wildly resisting the urge to break it all down, etc, that's not the point of this post.

The point is.

I was fired... 

from *the* job.

The job I worked so long to get to.

My "dream" job.

My career.

Gone.

Unceremoniously ripped away. 

It was absolutely shocking.

Ice water in my face

Stealing my breath 

And leaving me stunned. 

Silent. In shock. 

But not surprised. 

Keep your eyes open long enough and you see it coming. It doesn't matter.

It still takes your breath away, 

And leaves you stunned.

And, somehow, surprised that you feel stunned.

The point of all of this, though, is to say - this was astonishingly not my lowest moment this year.

And that fascinates me!

I'd already faced my worst moment.

I'd already chosen to love my-[future]-self, by caring for my-[current]-self.

I'd already chosen to "live my best life," in spite of the worst. 

In the face of the bad - the migraines and the unknown and the fear and all. the. broken. things - with no promise of repair or hope - this is what I've got to say:

"In. Your. Face.

I'm going to have a good time in spite of you. 

I'm going to pursue joy 

And wave it your face, 

so there!"

And then life was like, "oh yeah?

Let's see how much you mean that,

Bwahahahahaha."

*Evil laugh definitely necessary, cause dear Lord if we don't maintain a sense of humor we are going to lose our f*cking minds.

So here I am, in all my ridiculous optimism, trying my very darndest to make life not-suck for my little family of 3 and my soon-to-be teenager (9yo is basically 13, right?*) ... 

*Joking! Mostly. 

...And I get this awesome (not) icy curve ball to the face.

But joke's on you - I'm already dead inside.

Ha, wait, no... that's not it...

Okay, but really, jokes aside now -as best I can-

("I laugh bc I'm traumatized." -Elyse Myers)

So here's the thing. 

I am sick. And I am tired. 

And I'm sick of being tired.

And I'm tired of being sick.

And maybe I won't ever be able to change the course of these things in my life now,

But that doesn't mean I'm going to resign myself to - "that's just the way it is"

Nope.

I mean, yeah, maybe that IS the way it is.

Maybe I will be sick. And tired.

Forever and ever amen. 

But I refuse to let that be the only thing I am.

I gotta be sick?

Okay fine, we're going to add some fun.

I'm going to be tired?

Great, I'll be tired in the great outdoors while I look at tree tops blowing in the wind and spend time with my almost-teenager before they move away to college. 

I might never conquer some of the hard things I'm facing. They may walk with me a long, long way.

And I guess I'm realizing that I'm tired of waiting for some magical happily ever after moment to get here so I can finally be happy.

That's not the way this works.

Instead, I want to intentionally build joy. To be purposefully present. To recognize the good with the bad. And, to remember the joy. 

And while I'm loathe to discuss this as a new years resolution (it is not that) - I am excited and hopeful about our first intentional step towards living with joy:

Our Jar of Joy. 

To document, for our-future-selves, the happy moments we experience. So that, this time next year, we can review and bask in every little joyous moment we had together. 

Happy 2024 everyone.

Wishing you a beautiful blend of peace and adventure and joy admist the pain. 

💙