Had a lot to get done today, but not sleeping last night (see previous post) led to me napping until lunchtime, which led to dreams and family drama which led to me posting on livejournal, which reminded me of other stuff that's been festering on my mind, so I guess I'll just keep doing this instead.
I find myself missing my mom a lot. For a while there, I almost never talked to her either... her sickness makes her tired, unreachable, even if that's just a currently legitimate excuse in a lifetime of excuses. Lately is seems like she's been making an effort - calling me, stopping by to visit, even taking me to a baby resale thing. But I still miss her, even when she's right there on the phone, or sitting in my kitchen. My mom is kind of a ghost to me. A ghost who likes to gossip and criticize my housekeeping skills but otherwise doesn't speak my language or see me, really.
Been wanting to write about the Kinglet - we went through a really rough patch, which I think I mentioned. Lately that's been going much better... don't know if he went through a manic cycle or if he just rebelled against school for a while but then settled in. Hard to say. Right now I'm just happy he's doing so well - controlling his temper, taking a philosophical stance on things that bother him, making an effort to help out or do what's expected of him. I hope it lasts. I hope we don't see some major backsliding once the baby comes. I don't expect that, but who knows, really?
It's been interesting, having him finally settled in the program, moving into a new chapter with him as "a kid with Autism", figuring out what that means to us as parents. It's interesting to see what behaviors are left once the temper/rage/disruption issues are being factored out. The perspective-taking, or lack thereof. The way his mind works. The little compulsions and ticks. His weaknesses and his strengths.
For example: We had an opportunity to observe some of his Autism peers at a birthday party recently. The contrast between his level of social functioning and that of the highest-functioning boys in his group is truly startling - no wonder the powers that be were so reluctant to admit him. For he IS socially engaged - considerate, eager to please, to be liked, to participate. Some of those other kids, man... it's like the lights are on but nobody's home. My little boy says please and thanks, runs to the door when someone knocks on it, tells you he's glad to see you, comes looking for hugs - he's so charming and nice to be around, sometimes, I feel like I won the Autism lottery.
But on the other hand - the way he can't keep his hands to himself. The way he can't pay attention when someone is trying to teach him something in a crowded room. The way he acts like he already knows everything and deserves everything but isn't willing to make an effort to TRY. Ugh, the way he seems content to watch Spongebob and play video games for the rest of his life and let his amazing mind and energy go unharnessed. This kid could work for NASA - or better yet, design video games and make millions... but I'm afraid he's going to be living on my couch when he's thirty-five because he's lazy and self-entitled.
Premature worries, probably. Just... interesting. For the first time, really, the focus is shifting from "how do we keep him in school and deal with these rages" to "how to best help him grow into an adult"? How involved should we be vs how and when to step back? Whole new paradigm shift.
Haven't been writing lately. Tried--- figured out where I'm supposed to be working in my manuscript, gave my self assignments. But don't like the way that writing it feels like something I should be doing, as opposed to something i want to do. So I'm kind of... waiting. I have a lot to keep me busy, writing-wise, with things I've already produced. Submitting poems and stories. Networking. Promoting the poetry book. Last year I decided I wanted to publish a collection, and I did that. That feels good, like a mile-marker on the path, which is why I wanted to do it. But I don't know, really, what happens next.
Part of it is mixed feelings and confusion over what it even means to be a writer these days. The publishing world is not what it was when I was a little girl deciding that's what I wanted to do. I'm not sure I like what's out there. I don't relate to my writing friends any more. I don't know many people who write like i do, or why I do, or think how I do. It's lonely, and I don't know where I fit.
Sometimes it is depressing, but other times it just is what it is. Getting pregnant, having only so much time in a day, having my mind turn away from actively writing, it seems like things that were meant to happen, just like getting married and then having so much of life focused on the Kinglet was meant to be. I'm biding time. So it's fine. I just, you know. Sometimes wish I knew what for.
There was a time when I felt quite confident in what my life was for. Where it was going. How I fit. I used to be a very spiritual person. I felt connected and, if not always explicitly guided, I at least felt there was a reason for what I went through. Something specific I was working for.
Somewhere along the way, though, I lost that sense. It's not that I don't believe, anymore, it's just that I feel disconnected and rather jaded about spiritual things. There are moments of clarity or surety, but they are few and far between. Now I just have a vague sense of... meh?
I pray. I meditate. I smile at nature, try to remind myself that I am a part of it. Now, especially, with the daughter I wanted for so long finally made real inside me, I so desperately want to feel that magic and certainty again. I want to know, This is what I'm Doing. This is Who I Am. This is Why. It'll all be Okay. There is a Reason.
But I don't feel that. I just feel... baby kicks. A desire to write, a desire to be a good person, to grow and love - all this love. And a big old misty question mark of a path where my life used to be.
Wow. And here I was just going to work on my grocery list today.