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The SIBS come and they go.

I just ran into this piece of writing this morning. I wrote it to myself in spring of 2014. I don't really remember this because the horrible SIBS come and go. They give us respite and we never forget the times that were really bad even when life calms down a bit. We are grateful for the days without it and we focus on new goals. But, then they always come back. It's hard to understand why. It's been years of this. This writing reminds me that SIBS have been going on a long time because this time (below) is no different than the others.

3.21.14

It’s Friday night, 11 pm and I should be in bed. It’s been a week since self injury (SIB’s) have returned to the home.

Tonight was not as bad as the rest. I have no idea why.

We don’t know why it’s back and after taking him to the dentist on Monday, I don’t know that or rather maybe the SIB’s were not fixed with dental care. It is depressing as fuck.

The night it started, I had been warned. I spent some time discussing the return (of the SIBS) with the lead therapist, but there he (grant) stood. Listening to us and not one single hit. Nor in the car, nor ever...not until a bowl of oatmeal at dinner time. And the pow, so hard, I felt like I had been punched. The behavior that I couldn’t have missed and the reality of what she said and the hit just spread through my body. Every cell, it was real. She wasn’t just talking. It was happening. It was back.

I paced back and forth, struggling with breathing. I was starting to have an anxiety attack. Punch, punch, punch. I race to him, I want to love it out of him. I am lost. All of my bad behaviors immediately come back. I want to save him.

I can’t breath. why? no. why? no.

I imagine the possibilities of what to do. I imagine taking the week off. I imagine calling the dentist, the dr...my husband reminds me, one day at a time.

Ok, one. day. at. a. time. Ok. o.k. okay.

I don’t take work off. I email his school. I dissect it with the husband. I tell my mom. I tell my sister. I announce it on my private autism mom groups of Facebook. I tell people so they know and I do all I can to not suck myself into the hell with him.

I return to work frazzled. Unsure of my ability to be there. Unsure it was a good idea and I get an emergency appt to the dentist for Grant which results in losing one tooth. He wont take credit. He is baffled. He has experience, but no, self injury can not be simplified to a tooth ache in his opinion. I secretly disagree. I think it can. I think the teeth falling out and coming in could be horrible to a person that can not ask why is happening.

In fact, I am saddened in that moment as I take the tooth out of the office, to my car, and back to school. I have conferences, I can’t go home with him. I am thinking about how sad it is that we won’t hide the tooth or put it in a glass of water like my mom did for me. We won’t bother explaining the tooth fairy. We won’t explain Santa or pretend the Easter bunny broke into our home to deliver candy (or rather hide it) so you have to look for it. I won’t have to pretend Elf on the Shelf is real either. I won’t because the damn tooth fairy isn’t real and she doesn’t come to our house. Just another reminder that this parenting journey has to be different. It’s another part of his childhood that doesn’t exist. So it’s another part of parenting that I won’t get to know either.

And yes, I am in that moment; depressed, sad, anxiety ridden, too busy with work, too torn, too frazzled and I haven’t even gotten to the feelings I am now dealing with about school. I am full on all sides, about to burst.

It was a very long week.

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