It's 5am and I am still on the computer trying to fill a void.
My legs are aching, and I know I should be sleeping but I can't. It's during these quite hours when the boys are all sleeping I sit and think. Yeah, you should never do that, causes too much distraction and full out ugly crying if you aren't careful.
I hate that he doesn't hug me.
I hate that he won't let me hold him.
I hate that he freaks out if things don't make sense or are out of order.
I hate that he won't kiss me or even look at me much of the time.
I hate feeling this way and worse feel guilty for it, even though I know it's quite normal (whatever normal is)
I wish I had answers.
I wish he wasn't born this way.
I wish I knew what to do to make myself and him feel better.
I wish... shit I don't know that for one moment he didn't hurt, understood what I felt and that I could talk to him instead of feeling as though I have absolutely no connection to him what-so-ever!
Pickleboy is going to be turning four in March and all I feel, instead of excitement at another year reached is how tired I am of this. How tired and sad I am inside at the loss of love I feel between him and I because my son has asperger's and won't show his love through physical contact except for brief stolen moments.
And what is worse is that I saw a little boy today with full blown autism who cannot even communicate with his parents, doesn't show any form of contact at all and I felt so bad for what I was feeling toward my own child that I should be shot.
Sometimes it is just hard. Anyone who knows me knows I am a hugger. I am emotional. I love to communicate and talk and tickle and laugh. So not being able to do this with my own son breaks my heart at times and I don't feel strong enough to be there for him.
I need sleep.
I need God.
I need strength.
Tomorrow is a new day.