Surgery successful. 🙂 Figuring out mobility and stimulation for a frightened girl on the spectrum much tougher. This is a mish-mash of my thoughts in connection.

Too tired to articulate much.

Feel like my life has been

More or less sucked

Down a long, narrow hole.

Scrambling to stay up,

Dirt breaking beneath my

Flailing feet,

Snatching desperately at pieces of

Routine to buoy me,

Only to have them snap off in my hand

Like flimsy blades of grass.

Love and pain and helpless worry

Swell in my heavyish heart.

Feel so selfish to want for peace

Over what should be matter-of-fact sacrifice.

Isn’t this motherhood, after all?

Where is my willing patience

And brimming bowl of sage advice?

Instead, I am full of prickliness and

Clumsiness and

Overpowering waves of inadequacy.

Terrible to fixate on my own feelings.

What about hers?

She is the stuck one, after all.

But, oh, every hour now is reduced to

How do we survive it?


Every moment is extra sets of mindfulness 

I struggle to possess.

Offers of help just

Make me cringe.

They are just full of churchy obligation,

Not genuine friends.

And I feel the urge to swipe out with a teeth-gritting,

No, damnit.

This is our challenge.

Take your simpering faces and 

Your steaming, unappetizing 


And let us alone.

We have to figure it out our

Own way,

Preserve independence another day.

All I can hope for is it all

Getting easier over time.

All we can do is look down the weeks-long tunnel

And know betterment lies on the other side…