The Autism Mom and Motherless Daughter

When someone that knows me well asks me how I'm doing, I immediately feel the frog in my throat. I know what they mean when they are asking me that. What they are really asking is, "How are you coping since your mother died?" I don't like to speak about her or think about her too much. Like with most things that upset me, I try to shove her memory way, way down in my heart where my love for her and my missing her won't hurt me as much. That's how I am coping. I can now bring myself to see her picture or watch videos of her but I'm beginning to feel disconnected, like I don't know her. I wonder, "Who was she, really? What is she thinking about in those moments captured by her pictures? In those videos?" In almost everything, she's smiling or laughing just as I will always remember. But that is not my mother anymore. My real mother is gone. I am so tired of crying and the ache in my heart is holding me still. I don't want to be ...

"Grief wasn't done with me. It leaves me when it's done." ~Queen Sugar, TV Show on OWN How raw can grief get when you are ready to say, "enough is enough" and you begin living again? It is so incredibly hard to get to that place. Between the memories and the dreams, I just can't move forward from my grief yet. When I write in my journal to my mother, I always ask her to help me forget her. I know it sounds cruel but the cruelty comes from the cycle of life and death than from the words I write on paper. Do you know how difficult it is to hear your father say to you, "Why did they take my wife?" How am I supposed to help him heal from that? What should my response be? I know his is a rhetorical question but it is a valid one. Why was she taken? We can bring in all the explanations in the world and none of it can satisfy my need to know the answer to the looming question that takes over my mind on a day to day basis and to the thought th...

I hate the playground.  Am I wrong for saying that? I mean, I really do hate it there. Nothing puts an already anxious autism mom over the edge than hearing your child or partner say, "Let's go to the playground." Sure, it is highly recommended because it provides:  Exercise for your child!  Making new friends and socializing!  Helping with the overall performance in school! Fresh air! It's good for the soul! But I hate taking my kids there. My anxiety, which has tripled since the diagnosis, kicks in every time. How many people will there be?  How will the other children react to the kids?  How will the adults react to them? What if one of them has a meltdown? Or both of them? Or all of them? What if I can't control them? What if I lose my cool? Ack! People! Public outings always have a potential for high stress levels for parents. Malls, dining out, movies are on a different level though. You and your children don't necessarily have ...

"It'll get harder before it gets easier." That's what my cousin Lissette said to me about losing my mother. But I wish I knew when it would get easier because so far, easier hasn't even shown a glimmer of itself. Some days I feel like I'm in the same space as the first day I found out my mother was gone. I may not cry as much on the outside but on the inside, I'm rupturing. When I hone in on what I'm feeling, it stings my heart. Here I am 5 months later feeling as heartbroken as that day. I just want to be rid of it already. Some days I wished I wasn't so close to her, that I didn't love her as much as I did. I could move on from not having that loving relationship. I wouldn't miss her. But I went from knowing her every move from the day I was born, and to then not having her around anymore. That reality is unbearable. I always hated being the youngest. I knew the day would come when I'd have to say goodbye to my parents forever a...

Once you become a family woman, some of us tend to put our needs on hold.  It becomes about building a home, being there unconditionally for your partner and taking care of your family. Then the children arrive and we can lose ourselves. Taking care of the home becomes our main priority and then, if we are not careful, we become a shadow of the woman we once were. That part of us can go away so swiftly that she may become just a memory. And as the years pass, the woman of our yesteryear's is gone. We are alone, rundown and we begin to feel unappreciated. When I sit and think about all that my mother did for us, I feel like I should have done more for her. Given her more and realized that as her child, it shouldn't have been all about my needs. But mothers do not lean on their children for strength and guidance. Mothers are the bridges, the chains, the glue that holds everything together. Mothers are the caregivers. We, as mothers, put on a brave face. We, as wives, ...

Grief is supposed to come in stages:  D enial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. The thought that after five stages I'll be done with my grief and be good to go i s so unrealistic to me.   These stages come for me within the same day, the same hour, the same minute.  And when I am going through these stages it seems that some other stages should be recognized. FEAR How will your new life be without the one you love? Celebrations and holidays will pass and my mother is not here to celebrate, those are the times when it will be the hardest. Daniel turning 8, Father's Day, her 78th Birthday, Chloe turning 6 and so on and so on. There are so many more celebrations to come for the rest of my days here on this earth. I am dreading the holiday season. She enjoyed celebrating beginning with Halloween. She'd tell me how she would sit outside handing out candy or be ready inside with her bowl waiting for the doorbell to ring. And now what? ABANDONMENT So now, i...

She is my first thought in the morning and my last thought at night.  She visits me in my dreams and is the reason why I drift off during the day. When I was younger and up until it happened, I always had the fear of one of my parents passing away. Sometimes I would dream of it. When I dreamt it, I'd immediately wake up crying and run to check on them or call them to make sure that they were still here. My mother would say, "!Ay Dios mio! No digas eso!" Now I am living my worst nightmare. When she first passed I thought of ways to get through it. I had many people extend themselves to me but with a loss this great, no one could save me from my grief. And I could save no one else. I had to save myself. I am still trying to save myself. I started my journal of her and in reading back in the first few days of her death, I don't know how I am still standing. It has to be her power or her teachings that still have me here because it is most certainly not my own will....