Why I blog

I know what it's like to have an autistic child, hell, I know what it’s like to have two autistic children. Even though I know what my life is like, I certainly don’t know what you go through day in and day out. But because I see autism at its severity, and on a milder scale, I think I know a little about you.

I didn’t start this blog to bitch about my unfortunate life. I don’t want to take a stand for “why me” and preach my anger for anyone to listen. I chose to start this blog to find you. To find those who are living a similar life with kids with special needs. I also hoped by telling of my experiences--my successes and my failures--that I could help others just starting out on their own journey of a “different kind.”

I know what it’s like to be angry and sad and cry yourself to sleep because you know more than anything else in this world that the child you love more than any other person is going to have a difficult life. I know what it’s like to be criticized and not understood. To be ostracized. To be cheated. To be taunted. And to be beaten down and intimidated. I also know what it’s like to stand up and fight, fight for what I want and need, and to advocate for my children and for their futures anyway I can. I choose to fight to keep ineffective teachers or bad therapists away from my kid’s classrooms; and I choose to work hard to afford good therapists not matter what. I know far too well about taking on a school program and meeting ugly obstacles, but I choose to persevere and not surrender. I also know that I’m lucky, too; to be living in a state that has good schools, services, programs and plans available to help me if I ask—and if I know how to ask. I know many states that can’t compete and, therefore, people can’t help their children as much as I can. I hear. I read. I listen. And I’m learning too. And count my blessings that I don’t have to go through what some may have to endure—but I’m willing to try, help, come up with ideas and think outside the box.

As far as I’m concerned, people who read my blog have something in common with me and I want to listen to what you have to say and I want to help.

I don’t think of myself as “fortunate” to find that everything I’ve fought for to help my daughter has now failed me; Meghan attends a residential school because I have no other choice, frankly, and am faced with no other options besides a deserted island and an isolated life. And if this school program (extreme in its intensity) doesn’t work, then I know my daughter’s future is forever jeopardized.

I’m a parent--just like you--trying to work hard to keep my kids head above water.