Did you know it’s okay to be different?
my son said to me today
when I told him he needed to fit in,
that way things will be okay.
I like being myself, he said,
I like being me.
And in his eyes, I saw my fear
for a world that he cannot yet see
A world that may have lost kindness
and understanding so long ago
a world that won’t have any patience
for things they no longer have time to know
that not everyone is going to fit in
some people just like being the way they are
unique and smart, beautiful and kind
different like every shining star
but if there’s one thing i know
as we journey together through all this
i’ll raise him to be strong for himself and others
and to always stand up for those easily dismissed
first week of summer vacation
and already I’m floundering
like a fish out of water
with my very own
as I count all the things I’m doing wrong,
enduring looks from strangers
as I struggle to control him, knowing
how badly I’m losing the fight
against false perfection
Sometimes I wonder what goes through his mind during moments like this.
What is he thinking?
It is during these moments that I simply have to let go and accept that some days I don’t know anything at all – I just have to go with the flow and not lose myself any deeper into the perfection depicted in the rest of the world.
If money were out of the equation, would you still work? If yes, why, and how much? If not, what would you do with your free time?
If work, you mean giving massages, no. No, no, and no.
What I would do with my free time if I didn’t have to work is quite easy. I’d hire a nanny (FULL TIME) and just write. That’s why I went into massage in the first place because I could make my own schedule. Only problem was, when I was building my business, I had NO time to write at all. When I did write, everything I wrote had to do with massage. Every. Single. Word.
These days I have no free time still. Being a mom during the weekdays and trying to clean house, take care of an autistic kid and make sure he’s entertained between going to the swimming pool and home projects, and work and write are just a pipe dream for me – so I have to pick my battles. When my son’s father comes home, I can either work out or write – so I write, but there’s so much guilt attached to every word typed, because the house is not clean enough, the kid is not tired enough and he’s cranky as hell because he can’t watch his favorite TV shows.
So if money were out of the equation, I’d get that full-time nanny, kick everyone out, and just write. With no guilt attach. No stolen moments just to write a thing or two about characters that do all the things I wish I’d like to do, and live the lives I want to live.
Yes, it’s summer vacation. And it’s one of those days…
He loves his trains, he loves them
he’d even take them to bed if he could
he knows them all by name
whether metal, plastic, or wood.
He lays out the tracks on the floor
from the roundhouse going as far as he can
for as long as he’s got tracks in his hands,
he’ll keep going, there is no set plan
till not a track is left in his hand
though there seems to be some destination
that only he knows of, only he sees
there can be no other distractions
until to the bridge the trains come
then everything has to be just right –
in line, head to tail, in some order
he lines them all by sight
and then just as he began, he’ll forget them,
each and every one
on to something else, something different
train tracks now forgotten
via Journey Into Autism | Finding My Way Through A Child’s Diagnosis.
What are the three most memorable moments — good or bad, happy or sad — in your life? Go!
Three memories may seem like a trifle
but I can’t seem to come up with even one,
though now that I have to think quite hard about it –
it was the day Darkness obliterated my sun
He has autism, they said – he’s on the spectrum
Tell me now – do you know what it is?
But I barely heard the words she said to me then –
the day my gods took away my bliss.
IN A NEW POST CREATED FOR THIS CHALLENGE, SHARE A PHOTO THAT SAYS INSIDE.
I often wonder what my son sees
when he looks outside of his world
beyond the familiar walls of his home
like peering within a rose, unfurled
Does he see how much I fear for him,
of what awaits him out there
where people don’t understand him
where judgment awaits him, so unaware
But I can only do the best I can
to shelter him from my own fears
maybe all this despair is unfounded
as I’ll watch him grow through the years