One day at a time

There are days when you think that you will not succumb to the need to put your thoughts down in writing. You are afraid of what someone else will say. You are afraid of being judged as vulnerable or weak or opportunistic or overdramatic or anything else under the sun. It might be that no one at all reads these words but even then putting them on my blog is never an easy thing. I keep wondering if sharing my thoughts will actually benefit anyone. I usually write about the difficulties faced almost daily simply because I have gone through much alone and there have been days when dragging myself out of bed to face one more moment of doing what I do seems too much for me to handle. I keep thinking that if I can manage that, others who are struggling with similar or even different problems may find in themselves the strength from some remote place within to pull through as well. I often depend on words to inspire me, to keep me sane, to fire up memories or even to just be soothed. Perhaps my words have done something like that for one other person or persons. Perhaps they may actually pull someone away from the brink of utter hopelessness. Believe me, more people teeter on the brink than you would believe.

Today was not much of a happy day for me except for the news that my husband has managed to get a week off after a month of stay abroad. So we finally get to spend some time together as a family. Being alone for two months with a gap of three days in between isn’t very easy when you have to deal with a child with autism. His sibling is a great help. Appu is a darling but without little Mahi to shore me up, I don’t know how I could have held on so long. So today when after days of wrangling and changing minds, her sleepover plans finalized, she was thrilled. Her exams will be over tomorrow and she plans to go to her friend’s house directly from school. She is back the day after.

I see her happy face as my heart feels a bit heavier. She is growing up and going away from me so soon. And then Appu pipes up “Amma, I want to go on a sleepover too.” And my heart just breaks. My son is fifteen and he wants to do things like anyone else. But where are his friends? Whom can he hang around with? Where can he go on his own?

It is hard to explain the hurt. It is hard to control my too-swift tears. But I say cheerfully “ Appu, you are having that awesome Holi party and lunch at school day after. You don’t need a sleepover!” He grins back at me and says “yeah I’m going to have a lot of fun! Mahi, I hope you enjoy yourself and have lots of fun too!” He then proceeds to tell her what to pack and how she must not forget this and that. Mahi turns to me with a stricken expression “Amma, I feel bad now. I wish he could go on sleepovers too!” I try to smile. I tell her its okay. He has his own fun. And besides Acha will take all of us on holiday pretty soon.

And then I run upstairs, close the door of my room and cry. I know its silly but then sometimes anyone can be silly. I wish for ridiculous things. I wish for miracles. I finally wish that my tears can stop so I could go back downstairs and act normal again. They do stop. They always do. I wash my face and practice smiling one more time as I stare at my image in the mirror. And I go back down and help her pack. Its just another day after all.