We are going through so much right now. I can’t even begin to express it all. Overwhelming doesn’t come close to describing it. Mind numbing, terrifying, dread filling terror comes closer but doesn’t begin to cover it either.
I listen to my son’s voices and I’m scared to death for them. I touch briefly on this blog about the struggles off raising three autistic boys, but I never go too deep into detail. I can’t. Every time I think I’m getting a handle on something… that I’ve made the tiniest bit of progress, the bottom falls out, the situation goes sideways, the shit hits the proverbial fan and it leaves me utterly incapacitated, the breath knocked out of me and the fear is so real it has a voice.
And the voice says your going to lose them. Your going to be defeated, you’re kids will be lost and there is nothing you can do about it. The cards are stacked against you, this is a fight you can’t win and if you try you will get the ever loving shit kicked out of you and you will go through so much pain in the process you may as well lay down on a set of train tracks and wait for the end to come because it will be easier than what’s in store for you.
And I want to lay down on those tracks and give up. Because I’m already beat the hell up. I’ve already gone eight rounds with other adversaries. My days are already all jacked up and I was already having problems holding onto any kind of hope at all. So building myself up to go that ninth round seems like the hardest thing to do in life, and yeah part of me is like why even bother?
What’s the use? Your kids don’t know anything is even wrong, your family doesn’t know anything is wrong, this ridiculously broken system which is supposedly of the people, for the people and by the people has been horribly and irrevocably broken. There is no outlet or help or justice if you can’t afford to pay out the ass for it.So there is no hope or help too be had from them.
So yeah I don’t want to climb back into the ring with Goliath. I’m already bleeding from a hundred different wounds and my blood and will are seeping out of my heart and soul.
But if I don’t pick up the fight again who will? Who will be the champion for my family? True I’m a beat down washed up has been who’s better days are long behind him, and as such I’m not much of a champion, but I’m all they got.
So I guess I’ll pick myself up, climb back in the ring for that ninth round and hope I’m good enough to last it out till the end, whatever that end may be. I’ll go one more round, try a few more combinations, and pray for some kind of, any kind of really, victory. And maybe, just maybe I’ll take some of those bastards with me.
Like Rocky Balboa said “I ain’t heard no bell yet”…