So, 2020……what a year so far, huh? It’s kind of ironic that the book I just published is called #BestYearEver, since I would have to classify this year as probably my worst year ever. I was prompted to finally finish this blog post when I found out a long-time friend of mine died by suicide. I hadn’t seen him for a while, but I worked with him for over seventeen years. I remember the last time I saw him… I was in my usual hurry, rushing out the door at work. I gave him a brief hug, and apologized that I couldn’t stay and chat. Now I wish I would have. This news also triggered some things that I have been pondering about lately. In these challenging times, and also working in the mental health field, we urge people to reach out for help…… “If you are thinking of suicide, talk to somebody.” But what exactly happens when we reach out? I guess it’s different for everybody, but I have found that reaching out has not been extremely helpful for me lately. I’ve never been one to ask for help, or to be vulnerable and admit that I’m actually not doing well. However, I think I have used the phrase “I’m not OK” more times in the last three months than I have in my lifetime. But so far, the main thing I have received in return, after sharing my innermost current struggles is, “I know you are having a hard time right now, but I feel like a punching bag.“ Or my new favorite… after people tell me how they are always there for me and to just ask if I need something, but when I ask, I get the “Oh sorry, I can’t today, I’m taking my car into the shop,” or “Sorry, I can any other time, just not right now.“ For the first time, I actually understand why it is so hard to reach out. What should we expect when we just want a compassionate or sympathetic ear? I guess we want someone to fix it for us, and truth be told, nobody can. I think that’s the depressing part…to know you are in this particular struggle alone. But do me a favor, please don’t tell someone that you are there for them if it’s conditional, or if you actually don’t have the time to help. I’m sure this person wasn’t lying and was probably taking their car into the shop, but it makes it worse when we think you might be there those few and far between times we actually reach out. I recently realized that since this quarantine started it’s craziness, I’ve been feeling exactly like I did the first few years of my son’s autism diagnosis. With all of these Covid-related life changes, I started to feel very alone, sad, misunderstood, hopeless, helpless, and depressed, just to name a few feelings. I’ve been struggling because I know my son is struggling, and that makes me struggle more. I’ve been trying to turn to all of my self-care techniques and coping skills, but most of them don’t exist anymore, or are not available right now, thanks to this fucking virus. I have the “tools”, but the inability to use those tools is extremely difficult. I just want to relax and sip my coffee while I watch General Hospital, but my daily GH is no longer on, thanks to this damn virus. I know for a fact that about 90% of my problems would completely dissipate if Keegan was able to go to summer camp. Keegan has gone to this particular camp for the last seven years, and he loves it. And I love it because he’s happy, and I trust them. That group of girls have been my lifeline for seven years, and that is no exaggeration. I don’t have any family in this area, so they are the closest thing to family that Keegan has. Those girls would pick up Keegan from school if I needed, or take him out on a hike so I could catch a flight, or let me pick him up late if I needed to run some extra errands. I used to “joke“ and say that I would likely be suicidal if it wasn’t for that group. I know nothing of what I just said is a joke, since suicide is not something to joke about, but I was actually serious. I never took those girls for granted, and I knew I would never be able to survive without them. And I was right, because I am barely hanging on. I just found out last week that they will not be doing any form of summer camp or home sessions, and it literally knocked the wind out of me. How am I going to be able to take a shower, or go to the grocery store, or just relax and watch Netflix? Why can’t I do these things, you ask? Well, because Keegan cannot be left alone for one split second, and my husband is working all day every day, and there’s no one else that can help. I can’t take him to the grocery store because I can’t hold his hand while I push the cart, and I can’t keep him occupied without him disrupting the whole store with his loud verbal stimming. Plus, the stores close too early now, because of this damn virus, so I can’t just wait for hubby to get home to go. Also, I can’t just give Keegan an iPad in order to get house chores done, because Keegan hates the iPad. I can’t just turn on the TV while I take a shower, because Keegan‘s new favorite thing to do is to try and stand on the handrail of his mini trampoline that sits in front of the TV. He also loves to take his scooter or skateboard and try to ride it down the stairs (see pictures for both below). And the other day I found him eating chipped paint off the wall, so you get the idea. I have to eyeball him every second of every waking moment. “Just hire a babysitter,” they said. “It’ll be easy,“ they said. The sad thing is that we can afford some help, but finding people to help is the difficult part….or people that we trust….or people willing to get out and work when they should be quarantining. Without going into too much detail, not only because I don’t have details, but because I don’t feel like bawling my eyes out as I type right now…….I have a really bad feeling that one of the babysitters that we recently hired was hurting Keegan in some form or fashion. And because Keegan can’t verbalize anything, all he can do is look me in the eyes, tears streaming down his face, while his finger nails dig into my skin, with an intermittent hard as hell head bang, to try and tell me he doesn’t like her. I have no proof, or no evidence to suggest this girl was hurting my sweet boy (which is probably good, since I would likely be in jail), but the look on his face the last two times she dropped him off was enough to stop using her services. And if only Keegan could go to his summer camp, I wouldn’t have to worry about my child being abused. Since that girl obviously didn’t work out, I hired someone else, and decided on a “manny”. Last Monday, I received a phone call while Keegan and his manny were at the park. I usually communicate via text with all the sitters, so when I saw the manny’s name on the caller ID, I knew it was bad. I could hear Keegan crying when I answered the phone, so I knew it wasn’t good, but I knew he was alive. After I said “Hello”, I heard the words that only nightmares are made of….. “I have bad news, we just got into a bad car accident.”
The rest is a blur, but luckily Keegan‘s injuries were minimal, which meant his guardian angel was working overtime that day (above is a pic of the actual accident). Besides an injured foot/toe, which caused a limp for a day or two, he came out unscathed. But, once again, I wouldn’t have to worry about this kind of thing if he was able to go to his camp. And now I don’t even know if Keegan will be able to go to school in the fall, so it looks like I might be continuing to try out new sitters for an indefinite period of time. And that isn’t fair for Keegan, so that hurts me. Keegan deserves to have his life back, and I hate that I can’t give it to him. He deserves to have his teachers and therapists cheering him on, and telling him every day how smart and wonderful he is. I’m so stressed out that I can’t give him the positive attention and support he deserves. Plus, he needs his friends….he hasn’t been around one person his age since this whole shit storm started, and he needs his social group. And again, I wouldn’t have to stress about any of this if he could just go to camp. I know I sound like I’m not even worried about Covid-19, or all of the serious issues in the world right now. I know I sound super selfish, only caring about how this whole ordeal has affected me and my everyday life. And for the most part, that’s true. I know my limits, and right now I am only surviving. I also know from both my job and personal experience that you have to be selfish in order to take care of your own mental health, especially if you have to take care of someone else, too. And right now, I don’t have an option. I wear my mask, I wash my hands often, and I try to be smart, but I’m also just trying to get through each day…..alive. Some of my friends have mentioned on social media that if you are silent about the issues in the world right now, specifically Black Lives Matter, that you don’t care, or are in denial. It’s not at all that I don’t care or don’t see you, it’s that I have to care more about me right now, and that’s hard enough. Girl, I would love to go out there and rally with you, but I’m literally stuck at home with no help whatsoever, and trying to find that second in the day that I can go to the bathroom without worrying if my son is eating paint.
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Karli is the mother of a ten-year-old severely autistic son. She has been a social worker in a psychiatric hospital for over seventeen years, and is the author of fiction novel #BestYearEver. Karli is also a Certified Autism Specialist.
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July 4, 2020 July 5, 2020