Another tired day

I feel dead inside.

Note. That made me realize I need to have my blood drawn for a bunch of lab tests. I've been forgetting about it for weeks. So I finally went. Maybe they'll actually show something. 

Seems doubtful.

I'm so tired.

I see you

Wednesday 9.10.25

I'm so proud of you. 

So so proud.

This is hard.

But I see you.

Trying. 

Melting.

Trying again.

We'll get there.

Tiny step by tiny step.

We're in this together.

And no matter what happens,

I am so proud of you ❤️ 

little moments

Monday, Sept 8, 2025

Got fussed at this morning by my 11yo, informing me that i let them go to bed too late and i should make them go to bed earlier bc of course i should already know they need more sleep than theyre getting! (After we had literally just discussed this over the weekend and agreed on the bedtime.)

Ah okay yeah yep, totally on me bud 😑

In other news, they were very happy to start bedtime an hour earlier tonight, which means I got to go to bed an hour earlier, so all in all I'm taking it as a win. 

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