Bag of Bricks

Over my shoulder

Weighing me down

Breathing is harder

When your pressed to the ground.


Like a beast sitting on top of my breast

Growling and taunting me- how to find rest?

I take my pills to chase him away..

But my dark passenger follows me

He knows where I lay..


I drink down the tears that fall in my glass

He keeps record of my wrongs that fill up my past.

I try to take hope in the love I've been shown

But that dark passenger will not leave me alone.


Depression is his name, and he is loyal to me

Right with me, he walks, through my days endlessly.

So heavy... I try to just lift my head

Some days, I do well to get out of bed.

I count down the minutes that should be counted for joy

Shared with my family, my girl and my boy.


I can't look out too far, for it is too much to see

So I focus on the minutes, the next two or three

Then If I make it, I will set a new goal,

A small victory won, till I can regain some control


This is how it has been for so long, I hear the clock tick...

The alarm sounds, another day... to carry my bag of bricks.

THAT mom.

OK seriously,  autism is making me crazy. Yesterday at the library, I decided to collect some math and writing books for Timmy, so we could sit down together like normal people and do some school work. We began enthusiastically, well I was.. and I bribed my son with some time playing Angry Birds if he would sit down and do school work with me. He agreed to do one page, for Bird time. I took it.  So we started with some subtraction, which he knows how to do, but only if the numbers are in the proper format that he is used to. These were different.  These were like 88-n = 44.

No matter what I said or did to explain that the n was just a missing number.. he protested, argued, got louder, threw all materials on the floor, and finally flopped out on the floor screaming.  This kind of behavior from your child can be a bit embarrassing if your child is two. It is flippin' mortifying when your child is nine. Everyone, I mean everyone was looking at us. I tried to focus just on my son, and how to best handle my obvious lack of parental control.  I tried scooping his dead weight off the floor with epic fail. He was kicking and punching me every time I would touch him.  I said " Timmy, you need to get up and lower your voice" He screamed back NO! GET OFF ME!! ITS A N!!! THAT'S NOT MATH!! I WANNA BE DONE!!  "If you want angry bird time, you need to get quite" Then it was just more screams and odd sounds and kicking of the table.

 I started to panic.. I looked around at some pretty ugly faces of moms watching the show. I wanted to punch them!! I REALLY wanted to go up to them and scream at them for watching with their judging eyes next to their perfect children. I felt wild and violent inside! 

 I hid my inner crazy as I tried to stay composed. Eventually we did get him out, but after about twenty minutes of being on spectacle. I wish I could say that I have gotten used to the stares and glares. I haven't  I keep hoping that one day that he will act right and not embarrass me in public anymore. He was remorseful later in the car, and tried to beg for mercies when we informed him of the consequences of his actions. No TV or games. I will not stop correcting him. He is not dumb. I know what he can and can't understand.    

  

I just hope as awareness continues, people will stop being asses and maybe offer a look of understanding instead.  I don't want to be arrested for assault!