Finding the meaning in the struggle.

The fuck. What meaning is there in my current struggle?

There is none.

Well, that I can find.

The last few days have been on the difficult side of fucking miserable, and all there is to do is ride out this wave. Not only is Shortpants on a sleep strike, he has just been unable to be content with anything for more than a couple of minutes. Hence, we're all on a tight leash at Casa de Autism to come up with ways to not keep him happy, just keep him chilled the fuck out.

How does one do that with a non-verbal child? Well, approximately 749 tries after the initial one, he'll decide the first DVD/snack/shirt/game/puzzle/whatever-the-fuck is just fine, and then I go and bounce my head off the concrete for a few minutes. You'd think I'd learn to maybe only offer, oh, something logical like three choices? No, I go balls-to-the-wall and overwhelm the kid when he's already overwhelmed/overstimulated/pissed off/whatever to begin with. I haz a smartz.

Someday, I'll get it. Maybe someday I'll also get what made me so disposable in the eyes of my soon-to-be-ex-husband. WHO, by the way, NEEDED ME today.... to pay his fucking water bill, because he "forgot". That's $27.85 on your tab, buddy.

At least he'll be unreachable by phone for the next 30 days while he's in training. No stupid texts of stupid requests or ignorant statements, just silence. No hearing the Imperial March (that's his ringtone, appropro, no?). Silver lining? Anyway.

Meaning in the struggle? To the author of that sage advice - fuck you, too. YOU find the meaning for me, because I sure as hell can't. At least not today.

Now, to go find something deep fried.