Verbatim From My Journal

I'm tired of being ashamed of my limitations and my difference

I’m autistic. I need more down time and personal space than the average bear. AND - I’m a single parent to a very cuddly and talkative neurotypical daughter and a very high sensory seeking needs (read: lots of destruction, chaos, drama, noise-making, physical contact, motor-in-butt, non-stop moving) AuDHD son.

When I wake, I especially want space + quiet to wake up in an unhurried way. But usually my kids are on top of me - my daughter wants to sit in my lap (and often spills my coffee with her wiggles) and my son wants to talk all about video games and often bugs my daughter both physically and verbally to get that strong engagement his system is constantly hungry for. She gets upset and then conflict ensues.

In the morning, my whole body braces. I can’t help but wish very strongly for both of them to sleep in (they rarely do, usually they’re up as soon as I am). My jaw and chest are tight, and I can feel resentment and discomfort roiling off of me. I’m anticipating demands around engagement, and I’m braced and defensive and resentful - even before any demands come. Even my voice is tight, I’m forcing politeness and calm with all of my willpower. But my truth is, I want sooo much space and quiet - I don’t want to be bothered in the morning. I don’t want to parent, much less engage with anyone or anything - except my coffee.

I feel so much shame and guilt. I feel like a bad parent. I feel like my kids can tell I can’t stand being around them, and they can tell how much I’m faking/forcing. I worry they’ll internalize that they are unlovable and too much.

I feel close to burnout - I want to push P off me and scream at them both, leave me alone! Instead I push it all down deep inside, even though my skin is crawling and I’m crawling out of my skin. The body crushing my torso and the non-stop nattering and chattering is so uncomfortable I’m getting nauseous.

When my partner comes out and begins to engage with them, I escape to my room to journal. As I begin journaling, I start to cry helplessly - I feel so horrible. I don’t know how to be different.

Here’s what I write:

“ I feel so constricted. I hate cuddling. I hate how up my butt P is. I want space and quiet and space and quiet.