Sadness and Panic

Time just slips away so quickly. I constantly find myself brooding on whether or not I’m paying enough attention, giving enough hugs, or doing enough of what they wish me to do. What pains me so is when I hear my words reverberated back to me as I did just yesterday. “I don’t want to be touched right now,” Ian says. I say that. I try to be open and honest and tell my kids what autism is and what it means to me, but having it thrown back in my face like that-it’s an entirely different kind of pain. Now I feel inadequate and low. I can’t possibly ever do enough or be enough with this hanging like a raincloud over my head following me everywhere I go. Countless times Ian asks to see his friends, go somewhere, do something, and I just can’t. I know I have created this aversion in myself in response to my social shortcomings but I know how I am and I know how people see me by how they treat me. It’s torturous. I don’t fancy myself a hermit but I do avoid a lot of places where there is a lot of people, or noise, or sun. I don’t need to exacerbate my inability to function by adding more sensory issues. I just wish this was easier for me.