Forgive me if I come across as accusatory– defensive. In actuality, it is exhaustion. It is an exhaustion so vast that I rarely recognize the girl I used to be– the one who watched her P’s and Q’s and apologized for the inconvenience of existing in someone else’s way. That girl is gone. That woman is gone. All that is left can be summed up in one word: mom. And while I am also a wife, daughter, sister, teacher, that one word– mother– often feels like my entire existence. It swallows me whole. 

Motherhood didn’t sneak up on me. Motherhood hit me– and for those of you with a kid on the spectrum, you know the hit. It’s a ton of bricks kind of hit. A punch to the teeth that sometimes keeps coming. And this makes it sound like I don’t like being a mom. Nothing could be further from the truth. It is my biggest honor and my biggest joy. 

But let me back up. My mom usually writes this blog. And in her blogs, she calls my daughter her sweet girl. And my girl is sweet. But she’s also riddled with anxiety, depression, and huge behavioral issues. Bottom line– she tantrums. And as a result, and just like autistic people mask, I do too. I mask every day and pretend like life is ok when it is not. I mask at work. I mask with my friends. I mask with family. It’s more convenient for all parties involved. 

But this is where the rant comes in. And so I started this blog by painting a polarizing version of myself. Some may pity me. Some may empathize because they have their own similar journey. Some may feel disgusted by any depiction of an autistic family that is not blessings and sunshine 100% of the time. 

But hey, when an autism mom unmasks, the view ain’t always pretty. To get a peek behind our masks do the following: 

1. Walk a mile in our shoes.

2. Carry our medical binders. 

3. Restrain a tantruming young adult who is now bigger than you are. 

4. Cancel your social obligations because you can’t easily join in when your kid is struggling. 

5. Take so many days off work, but never for fun or because you are sick– give them all to medical appointments for someone else, to IEPs, or to pick up someone when they are not safe to be in public. 

6. Talk about one subject that you are not interested in ad nauseum for the rest of your life. 

7. Stop sleeping soundly because your child paces loudly through the night. 

8. Love someone so passionately that you will do it all again tomorrow.

Okay, rant over. But I end with one last point. Parents of typically developing children complain and commiserate all of the time, and that does not make them bad parents. None of us are saints, present company included. Get out there and complain about your toddler, your teen, your adult child on the spectrum too. It feels pretty damn good. And it is normal! And when you are done complaining, go off and love them like you have always done, because that is normal too. Your child deserves a parent who complains about them just like other children! So rant on, my friend! Rant on! Because as you know, when it is over, it is time to get back to work.