Listen, I know it sounds like I’m just tired and having a bad day and not thinking straight. Or maybe, you think I am just trying to be edgy and provocative for my 9 loyal followers.

I haven’t written a post in a while because I don’t have anything positive, inspiring, or mildly comedic to share. I do not want my friends and family to read my posts and wonder if I am going to snap under pressure or send me a muffin basket and an inspirational “You can do it!” mug.

I’m fine, really. I know it will get better and it comes in waves but I am in a shit wave. I try to reserve cursing on my blog for when I really want to hammer home a point.

I know that I am getting into a bad head space when I cannot find compassion or sympathy to offer anyone. I find myself irrationally angry at everyone else who claims they have a problem in their life that is seemingly lesser than mine. How delusional to think that I am the arbiter of how heavy someone’s pain should be.

I started writing this post a month ago during a particularly bad sleep cycle where Max woke up at 3AM everyday for two weeks straight and would skip naps. John encouraged me to wait on posting it because I was sleep deprived and resentful.

I have since made a lazy attempt to edit this to sound less like the ramblings of an unhinged lunatic to a sleepy and cranky mom operating with dirty hair, a stained robe, and 800 mg of caffeine.

I am tired of people pretending that they don’t resent their autistic kids from time to time. Yes, I know you neurotypical or whatever politically correct jargon you would have me use, can be resentful too. I would wager that you feel less guilt of being resentful than a parent of child with autism who quite literally cannot help the way their brain was wired.

Recently, I have resented Max more than I would care to admit or recognize. Some days, I am the mom that watches the clock and wishes for it to already be bedtime before noon. Some days, I watch videos of max doing silly things after he falls asleep and cherish those memories.

I miss the days of traveling the world with my best friend. I miss the freedom of not having to check my phone because I was unburdened with the duty of being a parent. I have romanticized the days of paying for an overpriced unseasoned avocado toast.

I even miss the seemingly mundane activities of going to a coffee shop, target, or a farmers market without the stress of worrying what Max would do.

I’ve touched on the topic before but I feel compelled to reiterate, expand, and mostly just ramble on like a pastor when everyone wants lunch but every time I see a car with an “autism is my superpower” magnet on it, I have the urge to shoot them the elusive double bird and hit their car like a bumper car to knock some sense into them. Ok, so maybe, I am the asshole after all.

It’s time to land the plane, I know. I don’t have a point to hammer home, or an inspirational story, plea for help, or educational resource to offer you. I am checking in and letting you know that I am here and fighting the good fight. I am not good but I am okay and that is enough for now.

In the long run, there will be happier posts and avocado toast.