I dont want to be angry at God anymore. I want peace.
There is no closure with Autism. It is like an open gaping sore. The very air we breathe wafts across the sore. It feels like pins and needles. Never at rest. The beautiful boy I know just turned 12. In a year, an official teenager. What man will he become? I see hints of him now.
Josephs story is complex. It will take a long time to write it, to feel it. But it needs to be told. I am alone in a bubble of misery. Temporary albeit, but misery. In another day, another reality (things really do change that quickly) I will be ecstatic, elated. Joseph's unique abilities charge me with an understanding of life, of all things. But the wonderful gift given to me at his birth, curses me. God gave me the most precious gift in the world, but I cant have him, hes not mine. Joseph has spent 4 long years in and out of psychiatric facilities, hospitals, group homes with periods of trying desperately to transition him home. My life is broken without him. I am incomplete. He is transitioning to a new group home in November. This is supposed to be a more permanent placement. I am in fear of new staff, another transition for him, me. October is never a gentle month on Joseph or myself. It is filled with memories of broken promises from my childhood, Joseph's birth, the natural rythym of dormancy. We experience it - He and I on a molecular level. And for some reason, we always go down fighting. I am learning Buddhism, Acceptance is key. But I am a long way from it.
This story will be written in Journal style.
It will take a long time to organize it.
I will ramble. and not make sense, I will reference people, books, old journal entries and issues. This work will require footnotes and reference notes. Because of length I will provide an * on facts and items of historical importance. The rest will be bung. Is that a word? You may skip bung and only read *. The choice is yours.
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