Wednesday, May 7, 2014

The State of You

Hey you. Yes, you.

The person who doesn't know where to put that line between yourself and the in-laws or parents. Or the extended family, maybe old friends. The you who is so damned busy discovering yourself that you are baffling and probably irritating the crap out of all of these people that they feel compelled to say something awful (they're jack wagons, fyi)

The you who is in my groups, writing me messages, posting to forums, wondering how in the hell you're going to make it without turning into an axe murderer of assholes everywhere.

You? You. Are. Fanfreakintastic.

You just need something...

You need a contract saying that the state of you isn't up for debate, sale, or negotiation. Just no. You're finding your comfy spot in the world, just as everyone else is supposed to be able to do, no matter the neurology, and people must back the hell off. 

There is no "good time" to confront you about your parenting skills if you are a parent doing the best you can. Are they parenting your child? No. Paying your bills? Living your life? Listening to your thoughts on loop? No. So they, the all-encompassing "they," don't matter.

Put that in the contract.

Stay away from the online jack wagons who want to tear into you, whether they are family or flat out foe. You don't need that, unless you want your blood pressure to skyrocket and you like throwing random crap at your wall (I might do this). Anytime you see that crap, hide it. Delete them. Unfollow. Problem solved.

This is part of the poison which seeps into your life and defecates on your thoughts, makes you question your life skills thus far, and stirs envy at times. It also calls into question your parenting, your diagnosis if you have one, and so much else. Squash it like the vermin it is.

Put it in your contract for you that you won't allow this crap to eat away at your happy moments. Call bullshit when you see it or read it, at least in your head, and move on. This just drains you.

The stares? The whispers? The people in public who would rather treat you and/or your child as a sideshow? Also don't matter. They take up precious space in your peripheral vision, in your thoughts as you recall a moment, and in ten minutes, two years, however long- they won't matter.

The contract shall state that the peripheral assholes don't matter. Period.

The naysayers to your diagnosis or your child's diagnosis also don't matter. They don't live your life. They don't live in your brain as you loop your thoughts around the same thing over and over like a horse on a carousel. Or search endlessly for the correct "weight" of a shirt. They aren't there as your child perservates on something that happened two years ago. Or as you do. So, they can also go away.

In you contract for you, boundaries must be clear. Boundaries that read: "Hi, I'm/we're/my child is autistic. Respect me/us/him/him." That's all. That's all you should have to say. Stick to that and you'd be surprised by how many people might back up.

Above all, make your contract read: "I am me. I am glad to be me. I am proud of myself or working towards that. I will not allow anyone to control my or my family's happiness. I am a good human being." And mean it.

What does the contract for the state of you say?

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