I’m not sure where I want to go with this entry this morning?
I was settling into bed last night after a nice mellow weekend. New sheets on the mattress and a new book on the nightstand. Pillows were situated nicely under my head when suddenly George runs into my room…
“Dad! That crazy woman is texting me again!”
(Where should I go with today’s Post? I’ve been pretty good about not airing my dirty laundry on the Chalkboard.)
George laid next to me in bed and put his big ass head on my shoulder.
One of the most amazing aspects of George’s autism is his stoicism. He’s not an emotional kid. Unlike his father he never cries when he is happy or when he’s sad.
The last time George cried was when he ran away to my home in the Spring of ‘22. He rode his bike across Mannheim Road at 2:30 in the morning. When the dust settled around sunrise he sat next to me on the couch, put his arms around me tight and started bawling.
Before that he might have cried when he fell on the playground and skinned his elbow.
The way he handles emotion as an autistic kid is either a blessing or a curse. I don’t have a conclusion on that just yet.
“What should I say dad?”
As much as I wanted to grab that phone and run it up this person’s backside, I let my son handle it.
“Just don’t be mean back and don’t antagonize her.”
He handled it well. This was a good life lesson and even though he said it didn’t bother him, I know it did. Being the even keel kid that he is also means he rarely puts his head on my shoulder and when he does, he is suffering.
The mean text messages that he received on a Sunday night did cause my big boy pain.
I Never know what triggers these painful messages. Emails and text messages come out of the blue and can happen anytime during the day. The bulk of them usually happen in the evening.
I’m sure there is alcohol and vape pens involved. Depression and anxiety are also another factor. I’d love to post some of the sentences George had to read last night, but instead they will get copied and filed with all the others. Filed away for the day when shit hits the fan and I have to lawyer up.
This could end up two ways. It can end up ugly and make the headlines or it can end up rehabilitated. I pray it’s the latter outcome.
I pray to my parents that the darkness of depression can be lifted and a happier life can be lived. George, Fritz and Hazel deserve to have a happy and healthy mother in their life.
So, if the demons that are living in the head west of Mannheim Road read today’s Chalkboard….
…please stop fucking with my son. Your problems were around way before he and I met you! Take care of them before it is too late.
Heavy Chalkboard for a Monday Morning. I expect phone calls and text messages later in the day from my inner foundation and support staff.
You see the lessons that I’m trying to learn with this blog are life lessons that we all should share. Many families deals with depression, alcoholism and mental illness.
I just put it out there so Chalkheads can see that many of us have the same problems. We have a very short time to be in this Shitshow together. Let’s work with each other and make life easier.
We don’t need to waste another year of holidays in despair.
