People do not change. That is not an opinion. It is a hardcore fact. No religion. No love. No massive quantities of therapy can change the core essence of a person.

That is the harshest reality for me right now. Even harsher when you try to play by the rules, keep the peace, in vain.

I will never change as well. What I have tried to supress and channel slowly unravels and I am back at square one.

You cannot compromise your dignity, your heart and your family on the idea that people will change. You cannot live your life turning a blind eye. It doesn't work that way.

Ultimately you decide.

What and who you put up with is on you. And as we continue our paths ignoring red flags, compromising our being and believing in change, we only cheat our selves. And sooner than later the gig is up.

So we expand like rubber bands, changing and stretching our limits to accommodate others and hoping others will do likewise, until we snap.

And that hurts.

I don't speak of the word "love".  It is difficult for me to pronounce.  It gives me chills.  It makes me nauseated.  I am not the opposite of it, but I am not its counterpart. It is like, the unspeakable.  Like the bald villain from Harry Potter, who I always forget his name, but know, his name cannot be said.  But yet, you anticipate and wait and sometimes even yearn for it.

...this past week my eyes have been a victim of things, no eyes should see.  And memories resurface like old stains on a good ol' shirt you've lost too early.  Funny how memories can open up a whole lot full of emotions and scars and bullshit you thought you were over.  Funny how the human mind loves to relive all this stuff in all its rawness and gory.

...As I primed our outfits for Miss C's Honor Roll Ceremony tomorrow, a haunting thought came to mind.  A  thought that has come to mind many times before but today as it rang in my head and  pounded in my chest, I  just had to catch my breath.

I have done this shit alone.

Alone.

We have survived alone.

And in these days of me being uncharacteristically happy, I realized that alone maybe not that bad.

I wasn't sad at the 'doing it alone'.  I was no longer bitter at 'alone'.  I was in fact, stoic.  I can zip up my own damn dress, most of the times. I can wash my own car.  I can hold up a full time job and be a full time mother to a child who is a handful.  I have done it alone.  I mean, I have had my small corner support team and Miss C's dad is always hands on, but he doesn't live here.  I have the kid 24/7.  Enough to make me wanna drive off a cliff, literally, a few times.

I have done this alone.  The Dx, the tantrums, the job loss, the no money, the heartbreaks, the men that worked and I pushed away, the men that didn't work and messed me up, the parents who could give a shit, the fucked up jobs, the nights where I wanted to just send it all to hell and disappear and never come back.  Alone.  Alone and I am still standing.  That has got to mean something. Something. Damn it.

and maybe a day will come when I will have someone to zip up my dress, or sit and be a political junkie with me and talk bullshit and watch a game and just chill.

And maybe I won't.

Regardless, when tomorrow the kid goes on stage to get her recognition and we both look fabulous I will know I can pull my own weight.

and to that: Fuck yeah.

And as the water ran, I opened my mouth to scream...and nothing came out.  Nothing.  I screamed in silence.  Complete and utter silence.  I am consumed.  I am consumed by the kid.  I am consumed and tired.

Tired.

All I could replay in my head was her face an in between her pink and red bows, her new bald spot.

She is yanking out her hair in anxiety.

I could see it over and over and hear her say: "I think I am going crazy".

It was all my head could replay.

No child should ever think they are going crazy.

No one for that matter.

I am consumed and tired of this crazy roller coaster of emotions. I am tired of the "tomorrow is another day".

"Tomorrow things will be better".

When it comes to my child, I am a selfish bitch.  I don't want things to get better tomorrow.
I want them to get better NOW.

I walk a thin line between anger and pain.  I want to be angry at her. I feel sometimes like I do harbor feelings of anger towards her.  This afternoon, I couldn't stand to look at her, or speak to her.

But I also feel pain.  Deep, unfathomable pain.  Pain so hard, so paralyzing  I cannot sleep, or think or breathe at times.  Pain that cannot begin to be compared with the pain my daughter feels.  I see it in her face.  I see she cannot control herself.  I know she tries.

And I am going to say what many people will debate, but we have all thought at some moment:

Am I doing all I possibly can?

At times, like this week, I feel like a failure.

And I know it is not in my hands.  And I know that it is not my fault and that it is what it is...but the helplessness can lead you to think this at times.

Even when I know it is not true.

But the pain is there regardless and the silence of my immediate family sharpens the pain and makes things more unbearable.

And in this month of April, the month of Autism Awareness, I cannot help but feel nauseated and sick each time I see a ribbon or a poster or a "Light it up Blue"...because it is a reminder, we are no where closer to finding a cure, which means my time is running out.