Moving on.

I knew moving  would be hard but nothing could have prepared me for the absolute heartbreak I would feel watching Evan unravel on his first night in the new house.

Everything was going well until it dawned on him at bed time that he couldn’t go’ home’ again.

Terrified and inconsolable there was absolutely no reaching him.

I had prepared Evan for the move. Covered every base.

He had been actively involved every step of the way. There had been weeks of decorating, frequent, often daily, visits.

We went to stay at  Grandmas house the weekend before the move so there would be less disruption.

We planned.

Evan continued to sleep at Grandmas after the move. Visiting the new house for short periods until he got to the point where he was comfortable eating and bathing there.

Unfortunately after 5 days I was no closer to getting him to commit to actually moving in. I realised that Evan needed to make the jump sooner than he would of liked, as I feared it may become more difficult the longer we left it.

I decided Friday night was the night…

The evening went well. We played backgammon and Evan delighted in thrashing me (5 times!)20140905_212047

It was at bed time that all hell broke loose.

With wild eyes he suddenly announced  he was very frightened and we should go back to Grandmas house.

I wont forget that look.

I had it in my power to make it better. He knew it and I knew it.

He clawed at the door spiralling out of control, begging me to take him home.

I knew of course I had to weather the storm.

Thankfully by about 1am he was so exhausted the devastating sobbing had  stopped but was replaced by him rocking rhythmically banging his head against his bedroom wall.

He had cried, sobbed, screamed,  repeatedly hit himself hard in the face and bitten his arms.

The hardest part is to admit how I felt.

I wanted to run.

I haven’t felt like that before and now I feel terrible guilt. It was very real and it took every ounce of my being at that moment not to walk away from my life.

I wanted to be anywhere in the world rather than sat in the dark on the stairs listening to Evan bang his head against the wall.

It was at that precise moment I realised I was tired.

Not just lack of sleep tired.

Tired of autism. Tired of fighting. Sick and tired of everything being so difficult. Tired of doing it day after day on my own. Tired of home-schooling. Tired of not having a life. Tired of the isolation. Tired of coping.

Most of all tired of not having someone to share the pain, grief and anguish I was feeling

This was supposed to be a new beginning but yet again autism stole all the pleasure.

just after 3am Evan fell into a fitful exhausted sleep and remained that way for the next 2 hours.

I  stopped wallowing in self pity and  pulled myself together.

In the Morning, totally oblivious to the devastating impact the evenings events had had,although pale and drawn Evan was surprisingly chipper as he headed off to swimming club.

I took the dog for a walk.

Another hurdle had been jumped and once again we both survived….only this time I lost a little bit of my heart.
















This entry was posted in News. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *


You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>