I should have started this journal months ago. Actually years ago. Two years maybe? Who knows. I went through my phases as I tried ensure my boy could grow up to be half way normal. Not that he’s a weirdo or anything. I’m more of the weirdo. My son jack has autism. Or is it that he’s autistic?
Either way I love the crap out of the kid. He’s the joy in my joyless self. He has had more to do with my recovery than anyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I love my other two. It’s as well and geez they are each their own.
The difference is that they will be able to care for themselves as they grow older. Well there’s one I pray for a little harder than the other. Although I never been the perfect role model, I’ve always been there. For the most part anyway. I used to work different hours and those hours kept me in different cycles than everyone else’s life cycles.
Through many different jobs and finally realizing that a college degree might be a good to taut around, I ended up with a decent one. Job, that is. Weekends off and I am home when the boys get home from school. Now they don’t think I work at all. They just wonder why I am so tired I the afternoon.
This job allows me to do most of the things I couldn’t do before. One of those things is taking my son, Jack to therapy every week.
Maybe it’s been three years now. I don’t know. I guess that I’ll have to ask. This is all part of my always tired and can’t remember things at the right time.