mmm.... Like Grass.

Today I feel like grass. I have had this feeling twice this week as I have been mowed over and left standing stiff and mutilated while everyone around says, "It smells so nice."

First mowing of the week. On Sunday one of the girls from church, who is my age, approached me as we were all leaving and heading to our cars. She was like, "Hey, do you want to hang out some time?" This was strange... because never in my waking memory has someone approached me to see if I wanted to hang out. I told my husband about it... his response was, "It must be hard to be her. I bet she's really lonely." I thought about it and concurred. On Tuesday, I had on of those days. I woke up anxious. The sound of the kids was like a crushing steamroller on my existence. I couldn't escape the feeling of the world getting smaller. Everything was larger than life and impeding my ability to just breathe. So, when husband came home, through the constant tears that simply form and run down my face on these days I asked if I could just go out and wander for a bit. So, while I was out after I had sufficiently wandered and things began to seem usual again. I called her and said I was available for a drink or something. She was too, and we met at her place to have soda. It was an ambush. She was one of the few people that I made the mistake of telling about "the ASD". Apparently, having a terrible childhood she has been undergoing some therapy or counseling of sorts and wanted to let me know that there is hope for me. She told me I was lacking in my inability to have "connections" with others and it was because of my relationship with my mother. Which I disagree with, call it denial, call it Autism, whatever. She was insistent. The room grew smaller. My eyes were hot. I wanted to vomit. The idea of sitting in a room with someone and talking to them for an hour every week was terrifying... what was worse is I was stuck in this room with this head talking about my mother. Who despite her lack of "Betty Crockerness" has not offended me in the least with her mothering skills. I turned her off and when there was a break in the blades, I left. When I came home husband informed me he was sleeping on the couch to see if it would help to alleviate some of his back pain. So, I retired upstairs in my lair with a book about the SARS virus. Besides the the bedspread that my husband likes, my room is totally oriented to my need for soothing and simplicity in design. Its warm. Tan and brown, with white and off-white. The fabric is all just right and my white phalen orchid is just the perfect visual to allow me to drift to the places I like to drift to. Its fake so it never smells as the leaves decay and fall off... which they never do. I was totally alone. The rest of the house was dark and I could slide into my cocoon alone never fearing that my husband would reach over and change my environment by touch or temperature. I was irate. I felt like grass.

Today is Friday. Thank God right? No, the lawn mower came out again today. My first born has a speech delay. Today was the screening for the preschool which offers services for children with delays and disabilities. It was held in the cafeteria. No attempt was made to make it acoustically child friendly. There where toddlers running every where while adults (therapists and teachers) held individual interviews, testing and assessing the children. It was complete chaos. The teacher that "did" us is a friend of mine. I was overwhelmed and had a hard time focusing on the questions. I know she didn't notice. I kept looking for a reason to leave. But, he needs this so I was pretty stuck. Finally, we left the center of the echo room to a quiet room with no other children for the hearing test. Grass. Freshly mutilated and smelling pleasant to others. New room. Vision Test. It was determined that he had a speech delay. We made an appointment for a full evaluation and left. Half an hour later I realized I had been so frantically chewing my gum that my jaw hurt. The tears were coming in and out of my eyes. I had to drive across town to bring some painkillers to husband, who forgot to bring them to work. My hands were shaking. The membranes around my cells felt as if they were all going through lysis. I was grass. Luckily, the kids were exhausted from their first "school day" and wanted to take a nap. So, I retreated to my lair, crawled under my comforter and stared at my orchid as my mind wondered to the farthest reaches of the imagination. I fell asleep.