The price we pay.

Before I begin, I'd like to say that, for the most part, I'm happy with who I am; happy with my life, my family and friends - I do truly appreciate how lucky I am to be where I'm at now. My partner is incredible - his inner strength has always amazed me - and I'd be absolutely lost without him. Life can be beautiful.

This past week, though, has been tough. Tough is actually an understatement - it's been one of the hardest weeks I've experienced in a very long time. Expectations have been raised to almost insurmountable levels, and our home has seen a lot of negativity over the last 10 days - and not all of it came from me. 

Around this time last week, I was reaching the later stages of a suicide plan. My partner surprised me by turning up an hour earlier than expected - in fact, at that point, I wasn't entirely sure he'd be returning at all, bar to collect his things. My rock, the cog that keeps this family running, very nearly crumbled. Discovering my intent pushed him over the edge, and I (we) came seriously close to losing him completely. I absolutely regret acting on my suicidal thoughts.

I hadn't yet taken anything above my prescribed dose when I was discovered, but had spent a good three hours getting everything in order before I took the final steps. I'd collected my presciption for Tramadol after I'd said goodbye to my beautiful boys - by far the most painful admission in this post. They had absolutely no clue anything was wrong, they were picked up by a friend to spend time with her children; nothing was out of the ordinary except my inability to stop crying. I got my youngest dressed with the utmost care and consciousness, taking in every single detail of them both before they walked out of my garden gate. I'd prepared messages for my parents and my partner, and was trying to work out whether I should take the pills and walk somewhere to avoid getting caught, whether I should do it at all, when my partner pulled up outside. I'm thankful he did, although at the time it felt like my insides had fallen out; not only would he likely discover the evidence and be upset, but my chance to escape the hell I was in had just slipped away. 

My partner was, in a word, devastated. Angry... so very, very angry too. He couldn't even bare to look at me or touch me, his hate filled words inflicting pain I can't possibly describe. Of course, I deserved them. What he said was true; I'm a pathetic, selfish individual. What I tried to do highlights that. The people I would have left behind would be affected, in ways I probably don't understand. His anger spilled over, and all of the tension of living with me came screaming out; admitting he simply gets annoyed when I get upset these days - no matter whether I can control the situation/reaction or not. This is not something I can simply fix, the answers aren't simple. 

I'm not sure how, or why, but despite stating his intent to leave over and over, he stayed. The anger seems to have stayed too - to be honest, it's been lurking for a long time. After several frank, brutally honest conversations with him, I've discovered he's struggling immensely to deal with me. His feelings of love, although currently still there, are allegedly under threat by the stress of dealing with my more "difficult" behaviours - even the small annoyances, like my tendency to interrupt/talk over him, or dealing with anxieties when out shopping, are starting to get to him. I despise myself for this - a perfectly nice person who's become angry and resentful just living in the same house as me. The person I met would never have ripped my earplugs out and screamed in my face (note, this was 4 hours prior to the suicide confrontation - my own fault for trying to go walking at the wrong time, I was in a complete brain fog at that point and didn't check the time). He's a good person, the best - but living with me has taken it's toll on him. 

All this is not to say that I don't try - oh my, if you could know how much effort I put into being "better". Better at staying calm, at juggling tasks, at being a person. Just making a phone call leaves my mind exhausted - having to put on a façade in real life is even harder. I'm almost constantly on edge - learning about autism, although eye-opening and incredibly helpful in learning more about myself, has brought about a certain self awareness that is, at times, unbearable. Knowing I have an issue with, say, conversation, means I can work on developing those skills specifically - but it also leaves me with a kind of paranoia, which again, is both a help and a hindrance. This paranoia, or self awareness, leads me to put my full focus on the problem area - either leading to success as a result of good planning/attitude, or failure as a result of anxiety over the thought of failing, generally not being good at whatever it is to begin with, or losing concentration. This, in turn, often results in me beating myself up - both figuratively and literally. It's a vicious cycle I'm struggling to break. 

Putting the suicide plans aside, the past week has been a mass of tears, meltdowns, shutdowns and deep loneliness. More than ten severe upsets and what felt like a hundred smaller ones have left me, and the people around me, exhausted. In fact, the turbulence of that period was most likely the cause of my complete loss of hope to begin with, the catalyst to my choice to opt out. I'm not entirely sure what's caused the recent increase in emotional outbursts - I know the barbed comments from the Space Cowboy in the past few weeks haven't helped, but surely there's a cause beyond that? The only big changes have been the boy's return to school, the Soulful One joining Beavers and myself attempting to be at least 10% more social than usual. I've coped with such changes better than this in the past, though, being fair, usually one at a time. 

I'm also no longer allowed to bring up suicide in discussions, which is difficult as I tend to feel the urge to split my head open every time I have a meltdown, and is difficult to get used to. When I mutter or cry the words "I want to die, I need to die" during upsets, I'm not saying that to anyone in particular. I just feel the intense urge to remove the words from my head and blurt them out into the real world. I suppose it could also be seen as a plea for help - at that point, something needs to change in the environment - usually it's for whatever it is that's distressing to either stop, or be removed. Whether that's a person who wont stop talking, or a fire alarm going off, all my mind wants is a big red button that just ends it all. I don't think in terms or permeability at this point - my mind is stuck on automatic speech and response. I'll often shift into catatonic states, making very little sense of incoming information from the world around me; most of what is said to me in these periods is completely deflected and simply impossible to process. Some words/phrases sink in, though it's hit and miss. I often lose speech, or am reduced to just repeating the same phrases/words until things just. stop. being. so. awful. 

Then, in anything from 5 minutes to 12 hours or more, I'm okay again. I'm still me - flawed, goofy and ridiculously easy to amuse/please, but without that ache in my chest, the pressure in my brain that makes me think nothing will ever be okay again, the itching all over my body that feels like tiny worms snaking their way under my skin, making me twitch, shake and flail, the intense feelings that flood me and then let go, leaving me shaken, exhausted and, depending on who saw what, deeply ashamed. 

As of right now, things between the Space Cowboy and I have settled, slightly. It's taken two days of relative calmness (only one moderate upset per day) to be able to come on here and write this down. As always, I believe I may have gone off on a slight tangent - my apologies.

I will, as ever, continue to try my best to make the people I love happy - whether it's by trying to avoid speaking of my suicidal thoughts, making their favourite food or even keeping the mask on, out there and at home, for them - no matter how much you wish you could just rip it off for good. 

As the saying goes...

... and after a weekend of what felt like a constant battle with the Soulful one - one that included launched DVD cases and some well placed digs from him and a counter defence of removing everything - bed included - from his room for half of Saturday, I had some pretty dire visions for his first day back in school on Monday. But he surprised everyone and managed to keep mostly calm and compliant, both in his nurture group, the mainstream class AND at home. Aside from the state of his lips, which he'd managed to stop chewing over the Easter holidays and which had healed wonderfully and are now a raw, sore mess again, there was very little evidence of the stress he'd experienced. As a reward for him behaving so beautifully, I spoke to our local scout group and arranged to have him come in for a trial session with the Beavers - which happened to be that night!

I was a little wary of taking him somewhere completely new (not to mention noisy!) when he'd already had a taxing day, but he seemed well in himself and was excited to hear he was going out - not sure he understood exactly what it was we were going out to do, but made up none the less :) he was in high spirits walking down to the Ecumenical Centre with his little brother, though asked to put my ear defenders on before we entered - we could hear the chaos from outside! I'd have much preferred to have left the Feral One back at the house, but unfortunately the group's times clash with my partner's time with his boys, and so all three of us walked into the truly deafening hall; me prepared for the worst and having a mild anxiety attack, the Soulful one munching on his lip wearing adult sized ear defenders and the Feral One with his hands clamped over his ears literally bouncing into the place. 

As usual the Soulful One stayed clamped to my side, holding my hand, while the Feral One threatened to detach himself completely and run head first into the circle of children in the middle of the room. We hovered near the table of adults and words were exchanged, though I could barely hear what they responded with, I gave his name and after a few minutes one of the leaders came around the table and lead SO (and by proxy, FO and myself) toward the circle of cubs and beavers (for some reason, that week they'd mixed the groups, though apparently the Beavers are usually in a quieter, smaller room upstairs) and stood him between the leaders and a boy of a similar age/height, as I extracted my hand and sat down on one of the chairs skirting the room - trying to wrangle the Feral One onto the one adjacent to mine, failing, running after him and then successfully sitting him on my knee/clamping him down in a bear hug. 

The leaders opened with the sad news the father to two of their beavers had passed away, and lead a moment of prayer for them - though I'm not entirely sure SO understood as I didn't see him bow his head along with the rest of the troop; I know FO certainly didn't, he was far too busy trying to see how well the hall echoed. They moved on, raising the flag, saying their promise and then breaking up to set up a game. The Soulful One seemed to be completely dazed by everything - he wandered over to me and stood by watching everything, giving mindless, nonsensical answers to one of the leaders who came over to say hello - quite amusing to behold. 

The next hour was a blur - mainly thanks to the Feral One, who kept me on my toes, and catching up with one of the leaders (who happens to be my old scout leader - apparently my son's his first second generation scout, which is pretty awesome). During this hour he managed to stand/sit with the other children, at one point he joined in the game they played and I noticed him chatting with the boy he was sat next to a few times - it was lovely to see. It was only during the last ten minutes that he shut down, and even then it only took ten minutes outside in the quiet to get him talking/responding again. He had a nice chat with my old leader about the things he'd be doing with them in the future if he decided to join them, even going through pictures of past events on his phone. We said our goodbyes and hurried home - it was almost bedtime by the time we got back, so no time for deep conversation or talk of buying uniforms. 

The great attitude's continued through to today - aside from an anxiety attack this morning when he reached the playground slightly later than usual. Fingers crossed that wasn't a sign of what's to come, it's wonderful completing school pick up without being invited into the classroom to talk in private about whatever poor behaviour he's exhibited that day and I'd very much like it to continue. His initial CAMHS assessment was done yesterday, so things are looking up for him a little more this term I think :) I'm so very proud of the effort he's put in this week - if it continues, I believe a new DVD and an outing to the park is in order this Saturday! Beavers, as far as I can tell, got a big thumbs up and we'll hopefully be returning next week. 

Wake up and smell the coffee.

Upon first hearing this expression I misunderstood and, the first chance I got, I grabbed my mum's jar of Nescafé, took a good whiff and almost fell off the counter; the smell itself was incredible, but overpowering to the point I actually felt a little faint. 

My enjoyment and seeking out of odd/overpowering scents didn't end there - since as far back as I can remember I've found intense enjoyment sniffing my way around petrol stations, the contents of my Mum's cleaning cupboard, laundry rooms, my worn shoes/underwear and (if they're nice enough to comply) other people, the latter becoming even more tempting to my nose as I (and the Sniffees) matured in age - believe it or not I seem to enjoy the smell of certain people's sweat more than I do vanilla! These habits, as you'd expect, lead to a fair amount of teasing - mainly from other children, but a few adults too. Added to my other strange behaviours, dreadful social skills and emotional outbursts (meltdowns) I may as well have been walking into school with a great big target on my jumper every day. School was (as it often is for children with any kind of difference) a very difficult time in my life, and at some point I'm sure to write more on that subject, but bringing it back to the original point; I was very much lead by my sense of smell.

Not only do I derive intense pleasure from smell, I also experience a temporary calmness in my body when allowed to sniff indiscriminately - in a world where things make very little sense to me, this can feel like a necessity. It's the same feeling I get when I can pace, flap or rock with abandon and without concern for other's perceptions. 

As a child I was uninhibited, for the most part, by a lack of awareness - both of how other's perceived me and of social responsibility. As an adult (an anxious, overly self conscious one at that) I'm far more discreet with my stims when around unfamiliar people. It took years to get to this point, but over time I've become a little more self aware, learning from my earlier mistakes through other's negative reactions and attempting to mask or correct my behaviour. I've developed techniques in order to be able to continue my favourite things; my secret hobbies. My efforts to hide these "undesirable" behaviours aren't always successful - self awareness will probably never be my forte.

As it is, the Space Cowboy apparently adores me despite my eccentricities - he even lets me bury my head in his armpit/crotch area whenever I'm stressed and need a calm place. Now that's love ;)

No matter what the social backlash, I sincerely doubt I'll ever stop - I don't even know if I'm able to. I don't know if life would hold any more pleasure for me if I were to withhold my "stims" completely. It's difficult enough to remember to not speak of certain things around certain people, to stop myself fidgeting during conversation or make sure I'm not swaying/pacing too wildly - usually while I'm trying to cope with whatever's got me so worked up in the first place. I'd truly love to live in a world where I didn't have to use up so much mental energy just trying to fit in - all of it to keep other people happy. Not even people I like. Most if not all of the people I like have no problem with me being, well, me. It's for nameless, faceless people - so they're not uncomfortable, or scared, or concerned, or disgusted. In the past I've dealt with all manner of negative responses - from strangers, friends and family, even lovers. This alone has contributed a great deal to the self-esteem issues I now face.

I'm writing this post in the hopes that at some point, it'll reach someone who will read it and suddenly feel a little less weird, a little less alone, if not make other's a little more aware :) It's not every day I admit to the public (and any friends/family members that read this blog) that one of my stranger habits is sniffing my underwear, but if that's what needs to happen so there's something, some kind of information, out there for people like me (even if you've not resorted to pantie sniffing) then so be it. While I'm at it, I'll also admit I compulsively scratch my scalp (and often chew said scalp out from under my nails), rub my hands over my face repeatedly to enjoy the smell of warmed up skin, walk on my toes when I'm really anxious/happy, compulsively pick my nose (I'll let you wonder about what happens with the findings) and manipulate/hyper-extend my fingers when I'm nervous or upset. Be kind, internet. 

Do you understand me?

My life can, at times, feel like a sequence of misunderstandings.

So it's not surprising that there's communication difficulties within our family. Unfortunately, this is made even more complex by both boys seemingly sharing these difficulties. It's hard to see where nature ends and nurture begins - both boys have copied behaviours from myself and each other, but both have their own ways of showing their frustrations at being perpetually misunderstood. 

I'm in the fortunate position of understanding their frustration; they're facing a lot of the same issues I have - the Soulful One in particular has been in some eerily similar situations, especially since starting school. He's currently waiting to be assessed by the same people that I first saw (Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services - complex needs) a mere decade or so ago for almost identical behaviours.

One of my main concerns with my youngest child is the type of speech he's using - despite his continued inability to speak without distorting the words/dropping beginnings, middles, ends or blurring the word into a similar sound, he's increasingly using speech - which is fantastic, progress is progress is progress. Never the less, the speech itself is rather bizarre. There's very little spontaneous speech at all - and when it's spontaneous, it's almost always just scripting/parroting the same question or statement. Often it feels like when we respond, only a fraction of what we've said has gone in - if any. If he, in turn, responds, it's often completely off topic, repeating himself again, repeating one of his "phrases", or saying yes/no in spite of not knowing what's been said, then asking the question again, or just giving up/getting distracted by something else. 

Because of this, it's quite difficult to gauge how much he actually understands - and how much he's just saying yes to because he thinks that's the right word to say. None of this detracts from his brilliant personality; he's a joy to be around, and always makes me laugh with his funny little ways and routines. 

He spends the majority of his time pretending to be one animal or another, usually a cat; he's very attached to our cat Boo. Luckily she's a very placid animal and puts up with him using her as a pillow, "petting" her, even stacking his toys on her. There's a lot to be said for pet therapy - his love for his furry friend prompted the majority of his early communication; meowing, purring and pushing his face against things/people he liked. 

He's nicknamed "the Feral One" as he's often found displaying animal-like behaviours and making odd, animal-like noises. Even when playing alone (his usual MO) he continues to make the strangest noises - it's become a backing track in this house. Although of course his nickname is a joke, his behaviour does strike me as odd - though more eccentric than anything negative. The noises do make daytime hours that little bit harder to deal with, but with the trusty ear defenders and the humour I can't help but find in watching/hearing him helps me make it through the stormier days. Besides, no matter what he does, says or doesn't say - nothing makes me happier than seeing this little face:

A very quiet Easter...

As we're not a particularly religious family, Easter is all about the chocolate.

And because we tend to stick to what's routine, the boys stayed out at their Nan's last night, as they do every other weekend. No sense in changing things up, I'll see them for an hour before bedtime; in fact this set up has given me chance to clean the house before setting up an Easter egg hunt for when they return tonight. Much fun will be concentrated into this upcoming hour and shall follow through to tomorrow - bank holidays are so useful sometimes!

In between considering making a start on dinner, sporadic periods of obsessive cleaning and smoking, I've decided to use this free time to write a formal introduction of our family. Although I'll try my best to keep each section as brief as possible, I do have a habit of rambling on, so apologies in advance for any tenuous paragraphs of drivel I may spout out before clicking Publish. 

First, there's the adults - me (Pix) and my partner (the Space Cowboy) are 23 and 26 years of age, respectively. Our relationship reflects out situation; unique. He's the thread that holds our family together. As my carer, he helps me with daily living, organises each one of us, keeps us safe and, as the only one of us able to drive, he's in charge of all transport and frequently referred to as our taxi service :) 

Without him, there would be no blog, as there would be no internet, as I wouldn't have paid aforementioned internet bill. In fact, I'd have paid approximately 50% of the bills, if that, and would probably be a dribbling mess in a barren, cold living room right now. With my parent's both too unwell to care for me, it fell on him rather early on in our relationship to take over. Not many men have the self control, perseverance or inner strength it takes to do what he does for us. 

He's a fabulous person in more ways than just his role of course, in fact he's one of the brightest, funniest people I know - and one of the most stubborn too :) His interests are based mainly on space/time/matter and aero-mechanics - most of which goes straight over my head. He has three children from a previous relationship, I'll say more about them in the next few paragraphs. He's a wonderful father, both to his own children and mine. And there's nothing more attractive than a great Dad :)

As for me, I'm best described as being both half and double my age. I have a number of interests/passions, including but not limited to behavioural science and psychology - specifically in cases where nature goes wrong, animal studies (specifically elephants, wolves, degus and all felines), neurology and the TV series Supernatural. I'm also very excited when I'm around rainbow colours (in the order red/pink, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple), glitter, water and books. At present, I'm awaiting formal diagnosis for Autism Spectrum Disorder. I was misdiagnosed as a child with a mood disorder and have been on every pill they could think of - not one of them made any positive difference in my life, and only recently have I reconnected with mental health enough for them to get an idea of how my mind works. I'm an avid reader of both fiction and non-fiction and occasionally sketch/paint. My favourite creations are my two children, the Soulful One (6) and Bo (3), both blue eyed, brown haired ninjas. 

The Soulful One is, as his name suggests, a rather soulful child. He's always been a little bit eccentric in his ways (and his speech) but not much was thought of it until he reached school age; the pressure and change it brought about was both unexpected and explosive. His volatile reaction was most likely a result of us (his family) adapting to him so subtly and slowly that we didn't even realise it was happening; his life before school was one of routine - almost every day was spent with me, doing the same things, with the same people - with hindsight, I can see that the abrupt change to this monotonous lifestyle would of course cause upset, in fact I can imagine it would affect even the most well balanced child in some way. If we knew then, what we know now, this reaction could have been predicted and adjustments/accommodations made accordingly, but alas they weren't. 

After a period of time, he settled slightly; but almost every time he seemed to adjust to this new routine, something would happen and things would go right back to where they were, or worse, escalate. This has continued to present day. He'll seem to be coping okay and then he'll have weeks of meltdowns, hiding under tables, screaming bloody murder and more recently he's resorted to physical violence when he's touched during an anxiety attack. Unfortunately so far he's yet to be formally assessed so has no diagnosis. His school feel unable to put adequate support in place until they know exactly what they're dealing with, so for now he's stuck in limbo. 

Aside from his at times frightening outbursts, he's an incredibly sweet, sensitive boy. His love and generosity for his family and friends knows no bounds; he would and has gone without so everyone else gets a share. He's incredibly stubborn and believes he knows more than any adult does (being fair, he probably knows more than most!) and has an awesome imagination. He wants to be a scientist when he's an adult like his hero, Flint Lockwood (Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs) and his favourite book is his encyclopaedia of science. He's famous for his deep and, at times, sombre quotes about life, death and everything in between. 

His younger brother, Bo, is a whirling dervish, to put it bluntly. He's almost never still, enjoys bouncing on/off/onto/into things and very tight cuddles. He's usually pretending to be an animal of some sort, is persistently scruffy and is often referral to as "the Feral One". His favourite things are his stuffed reindeer "Kittycat" and his Megabloks square, and he loves being tickled or "eaten" more than anything in the world. He has quite severe speech delay and mild - moderate delays in motor skills, understanding/cognitive development and social/emotional development. Like his brother he's bursting full of love, although he likes his space from other children sometimes :) who doesn't?

Last but certainly not least are my partner's children, the Genius (6), the Wanderer (4) and Wreck-it Ralph (3). They visit here once a week, though we're increasing to two/three visits slowly to let the younger two adjust. The Genius, as his name suggests, is an incredibly bright and well adjusted young man. He's a wonderful older brother and role model for his younger brothers (he also has a new baby brother at home, so he's got a lot of little faces looking up to him!). Although he can seem quiet when you first meet him, it's not long until he's blowing your mind with his vast collection of knowledge about animals, space, wrestling and just about anything else he's interested in. 

Middle child, the Wanderer, currently falls on the severe end of the autistic spectrum. As a result, his communication is limited and relies on a combination of gestures and guesswork from his caregivers, PECS and some sign language. Despite these difficulties, he's an incredibly pleasant and happy child - probably one of the happiest I know! He enjoys playing with his train set, is very adept with technology and makes some very interesting artwork - though it's been known to make a few noses twitch ;) he's a very expressive, endearing little boy; his smile makes my heart happy :)

Wreck-it Ralph, as you may have guessed, has a bit of a destructive side - though never with bad intent - he's simply a very active little guy! Like his brother, he's been diagnosed with autism. His speech, although delayed, is coming on in leaps and bounds - his chattering is both heart-warming and very persistent, and quite often hysterical (think speaking in tongues and you'll get what I mean). He's the type of child that's adorable even when he's grumpy - which tends to be whenever something's taken off him :p he's a beautiful little boy though, and like his brothers, he's a pleasure to have in our home.  

Yes, this may in fact be the most autistic family picture. Psst, told you he's still adorable. 

So that's us. Thanks for reading, and have a fabulous Easter!

You make me sick...

Often when I'm watching the boys, I'm reminded of myself and my own childhood; particularly when they're having difficulties with certain aspects of life, such as food textures, making friends or crowded situations. I relate far better with them than I do most of my peers - whether that's because they're children on the spectrum or just them being children in general, I don't know. Perhaps my own immaturity lends a hand in this; though I do still struggle with talking to them (especially trying to explain, well, anything to them - I'm often a bit too "adult-like" or formal for them to understand much of what I mean, I forget I'm talking to a 6 year old and end up discussing politics or psychology experiments with him - much to his curious amusement) I find their company so much more enjoyable than I do people my own age. I have far more patience for children, and find their bluntness very refreshing indeed. 

Autistic children, I've found, bring about even more joy and comfortability; their autonomy meshes so very well with mine. My partner's middle child, a non-verbal almost 5 year old with quite severe sensory issues - I'll call him The Wanderer - him in particular I could spend hours with and not once feel the need to escape and be alone. The comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional verbal stim, makes for a beautiful companionship indeed. Not only is he a joy to be around, but I feel a deep understanding for some of the issues he faces - despite him currently being on the "severe" end of the spectrum, we have a lot in common; probably more so than I do with "neurotypical" people.

As a child, I ate very simple meals and drank only water. My mother tried in vain to get me to be more adventurous in my food, but even if she tried to pair two foods I would actually eat together to make a "new" meal, I'd just separate them. Plain, "orange cheese" (Red Leicester) sandwiches with margarine only (I hated the taste of butter) on the same bread every time, toast, salted crisps/chips, billy bear and occasionally some sweetcorn, and bizarrely enough, marmite and olives. I refused juice and only ever asked for water - despite many desperate friend's parent's attempts to get me to accept juice ("surely you don't want water, we have juice you know, are you sure you wont have some juice? There's plenty of it! Well, I'll make some for you anyway, it's very nice..." who would think such a thing would be so important to people?) although I'd have warm sweet milk if I was feeling reckless ;) 

Still to this day, I'll only usually drink water, and, when I'm sad or unwell, the only thing I'll feel up to eating is a plain orange cheese sandwich. As a child (and often as an adult) if pushed to eat something I wasn't up for, threatened with nothing else for example, I'd simply not eat. I'd starve myself for days, weeks even, rather than eat whatever's being forced. Luckily these days I'm far more adventurous, but there are still some textures/tastes I just can't eat without gagging. I won't even try any more; I'll have the occasional impulse to attempt to eat one of my "no list" foods once every few years, and each time I've regretted it. Usually it's down to texture - beans, nuts, rind, and anything cold and a little slimy, such as ham or fish (especially salmon) being the worse culprits. I can't chew any of these things without having a physical response to them, so to bypass this in otherwise edible meals, I often swallow whatever it is whole. Perhaps not the perfect solution, definitely not good for my digestive system, but it's made eating adventurously a real option. 

I mostly stick with what I know and love (which now includes more options, thankfully) but thanks to my parents backing the f**k off (to put it bluntly) when I reached school age and just letting me try foods in my own time and on my own grounds, I've managed to expand my taste buds independently and without anxiety making it that much harder. I can't stress enough how pressuring certain children into eating foods they're simply not able to eat without discomfort can do this - anxiety already rules our lives for the most part, adding more is just asking for explosives to go off.  

Obviously I'm not talking all children, and of course there'll be plenty of situations a little bit of pressure/bribery works. I'm talking when the child is becoming so distressed they're hurting themselves, or when they're showing that they'd rather go without eating altogether than try the thing you're offering - even if it's the only thing offered all day, or the day after that. I'm talking when they gag or clamp down so violently you'd think you were trying to force dettol down their throat, not a jam sandwich. I feel your pain, I know your worry - and of course there are many children that won't even eat ONE thing - that must be terrifying to experience and I don't wish to say you're doing them harm - in this situation, I believe an exception should be made. Better a living, anxious child than a calm, dead one. But if your kid can't handle more than a handful of different meals, just stick with what works and offer a new meal once a week - even if it's one you've offered before that's been turned down. I only tried mayonnaise (despite it being offered previously) for the first time at 15, then again a year later - I hated it. I tried it again aged 22 and love it now. These things just take commitment, trial and error and a lot of patience. A decent cook helps too ;)

Appearances can be deceiving...

I'd like to explain my intentions behind this post before writing it. Although the pictures and information may shock some, I feel it's important to show the difficulties "highly functioning" autistic people often face; with self awareness comes shame, guilt and often self hated. Although we share many of the traits from the more severe/"lower functioning" end of the spectrum, we are completely and fully aware of the implications of our actions, things we can't control or need help with, but none the less feel such shame when we see the repercussions of certain behaviours - meltdowns are a good example. During my worst meltdowns, if approached I will lash out. I have almost no control over this - if I'm hysterical then it's a given that if you come close, you're going to take a hit. I despise this part of me, as I'm not an aggressive person. 

My intention is never to hurt another person, my only aim is to keep them far, far away from me. It becomes primal, like a mother's need to protect her child. People often mistake this for aggression, in fact people often seem to assume I'm just a bad person, a bitch, a "pyscho". If people were just aware of how to handle such situations, such as backing off when asked and remaining calm and reasonable, the situation would likely never escalate to include physical contact or aggression. Most of the people I see are fully aware of these issues, they're not exactly rare occurrences, and for the most part things are handled okay.

Still, people sometimes lose it. No one's perfect. Sometimes people forget, sometimes they're temporarily unsure of what to do, so go on instinct, to comfort; the exact opposite of what is needed. Sometimes, they're too emotionally involved to stay calm, and antagonise the situation unintentionally. This Monday gone, after a few days of almost constant upsets, the latter happened. The why is unnecessary information, as at this point I was triggered by pretty much anything. 

For the past week, stress levels in this house have been at an all time high. I've had meltdowns daily since Tuesday - and often not just the one. I'm struggling to adjust to the change in routine at home, trying to help/deal with the children's upsets, trapped almost 24/7 in a sensory nightmare and just generally feeling like shit. I'm dealing with two extremely upsetting situations right now, again no further information needed but all of these things combined have lead to one of the worst weeks of my adult life. All this on the busiest weekend I've had in over a year - my partner's brother's 21st birthday on the Saturday, my sister's wedding the day after. I was a mess. I even broke down at the 21st party. I've had anxiety attacks over the smallest hitches, snapped at everyone I love and my leg is now covered in fresh wounds. I'm bruised all over, I have two black eyes and pain all over my head. These injuries are almost all self inflicted - the others accidental during attempts at restraining me. 

This is the reality of my life. For the most part, I'm happy and live a good life. But bring about change, excess stress or too much sensory input and I'm a flailing, sobbing mess. I never give up trying to better myself and avoid these behaviours, but often it's beyond my control. I'm a 23 year old woman with two children, above average intelligence and some pretty bad ass abilities with puzzles, yet I need a full time carer to stay safe and function on a "normal" level. 

I'd like to note that my children almost never witness my full meltdowns - my partner/mother remove them or myself from the room if I'm showing signs of breaking down, and I either flee to my room or one of my safe spaces. I would never willingly subject my boys to any stress or turmoil; they are quite simply the best things I ever created. Despite the difficulties that come with parenting with autism - particularly dealing with my eldest son, who has his own difficulties and is awaiting his own assessment with CAMHS, I wouldn't change things for anything. The noise level, for one, can be unbearable. But they light up the world around them, their smiles should be prescribed as an antidepressant; no matter what happens, they are the most important beings in my life. 

Not many people know or see the reality of living with autism - high functioning in particular, unless they're living it. We can develop the ability to hide our issues from the outside world - often managing to keep it together out in the real world, then releasing all that pent up energy at home in the form of meltdowns, shutdowns or simply withdrawing from everyone around us, feeling the extreme need to be left alone. 

The following picture was taken a few hours after the above were - I've used basic market make up to cover up the bruising and viola; a "normal" 23 year old woman. You cannot see what hides beneath this mask, nor the one I've created for the rest of my life. 

This mask (both literal and figurative) is one worn by many. With make up, a false smile, and all the restraint in the world, I, and many others like me, can fool most casual observers; even those who are a regular part of our lives can be blind to the issues we face. Until we find a way to explain ourselves, or are examined by those who know what they're looking for, we are expected to just "get on with it". Without acknowledging the often vast differences in emotional and social development, or the issues that can arise because of these delays, we are left with one conclusion; we just can't "people" right. It's us. Of course, this isn't warranted shame - it's a result of being compared to our neurotypical peers for a lifetime. We fit in just enough to take a shot at an independent life, socialising and taking on education or careers - mainly surviving on intellect alone.  We fit in enough that people seem to forget that we're fundamentally different, and hold us up against the average person, find us lacking (or at times, scarily above average) and judge us harshly. We face criticisms and unless we wear a giant badge screaming "I'm Autistic! Please be patient", accommodations are so rarely made. 

I say we, not to speak for every single autistic person, but to speak for those who do feel this way and experience these things. I'm sure there will be many of you reading this thinking "no, actually I can't relate" and that's okay, in fact I'd say that's good :) but for the others who do what I do, who wear the mask and face judgement on a regular basis (often this judgement comes from within, in my case at least; no one disses me as much as I do) I want you to know, you're not alone. I see you, I hear you.

I'm sharing these pictures and this message in the hope they truly bring home the reality of what kind of things we deal with, mostly in private and away from the public's eyes. We don't have it easy, though with support and a positive attitude we can succeed just as much as the next person. Our difficulties make our successes even more amazing, the will power and strength it takes to overcome any challenges that arise and continue to that point just defies belief - I'm proud of every single one of you. 

Onesie Wednesday!

Our "Onesie Wednesday"! Unfortunately we didn't make it out today, but we had lots of fun in our all in one costumes all the same :)

To make up for our rather feeble attempt at raising awareness today, we've made a donation to the NAS. 97p in every £1 goes directly to helping people with autism and their families. I urge you to do the same; even the smallest amount can help a family in desperate need of support. Several small donations from people is just as grand as one large donation. Thanks for reading :)

http://www.autism.org.uk/get-involved/donate.aspx