“He did not attend school because he was agitated by loud noises, she said.”
That caught my eye. That’s our story.
I want to start by stating the obvious, we don’t know what killed this boy, yet. I’m not going to talk about that. I am not going to judge the holes in the walls… we have a few here. I am not going to judge the ripped up carpet. I get it. I am saddened by the filth, though. On one hand I understand the exhaustion. The mental collapse. I don’t have several kids with complicated needs –but leaving fecal matter all about a room is not healthy. Some days I allow the pet-hair dust-bunny tumbleweeds to escape my attention –I don’t even touch the broom. But for never more than a day. Sometimes the dishes pile up… for half a day. Part of caring for your child and their health means keeping a clean home. That is part of the exhaustion. Not a part to overlook.
–Sadly I see this tilt toward living in filth in situations where the parents are not dealing with special needs, but that is a mental illness to discuss another day.
But I understand the exhaustion.
I can understand how the mom didn’t know her son was dead if she really was occupied with taking care of another medically fragile child. I can understand their divide and conquer approach to the sheer fucking hell they were living in. But part of me wonders hard about that. My son has a lot of freedom in our house and fenced in yard, but I am TUNED IN to the sounds of his every move. His computer, his bedroom door, the back door –his pacing, his yelling, his verbal stims. If it gets quiet for too long, I go look. How do you not know your son is dead when you haven’t heard a peep from him for “several days”.
But, I can understand how the situation could get so fucking bad if they didn’t have any help.
People not living in these houses really, really cannot fathom it. You can’t tell me “I understand” or “Oh, my son doesn’t have autism and he does the same thing! It’s typical!” and not expect me to lose a shit ton of respect for you.
The stories of kids like my son don’t hit the news until someone dies. That is when you all get to sit back and pass judgment. Shocked.
I’m not shocked. I don’t condone it. But I can map it out in my head and appreciate the route to that hell. I FIGHT every day to function. I crawl and claw through the defeat and exhaustion in my own head. I read your comments on my blog, your emails… the search terms you use that bring you to my blog. It’s depressing as all fuck and we have no help. Autism Awareness is a joke. No one is aware of what it’s REALLY like for SO MANY.
And how do we fix that? I’ve thought about filming and letting you into my home… but sometimes I think that would just end in a visit from CPS. What’s the answer?