Why am i so unhappy?

The very cool part about being James' teacher is that I can effortlessly incorporate his daily life into our lessons.  For instance, writing in his "book," (aka journal) allows me to sneak in school stuff like practice making letters, the use of capitals versus small letters, punctuation, and sentence structure.  Meanwhile I have assured him that he can write anything here, even curse words, without getting in trouble. These are his raw feelings and he should let it all out!  What his "diary" also lets me see, is James' beautiful mind at work.  What a joy, what an honor, what a freaking privilege it is to be this kid's mom, let alone his teacher.  Warning: After writing this super sad entry, James typed on his iPad, "It is really ok Mommy."  And it was.

Why am I so unhappy? Mommy wishes I could be happy always. Why am I so unhappy? Pretty sure it is because i am autistic. Why am I so unhappy? I am pretty [sure] it is because i am not real. Why am I so hard to please? I am not a good boy everyday. Why am I so hard to understand? It is because i can't talk. Why am I so hard on Mommy? 

Mourning

I recently read an article penned by a special needs mom.  In passing, she mentioned being sad that her hopes and dreams for her daughter's future had been dashed.  Although it wasn't the point of her piece, it really resonated with me.  I remember, way back, thinking about this and telling myself I was a selfish idiot because who cares about hopes or dreams when there's a needy kid right in front of me.  A relative even chastised me about my selfishness: get over it and move on.  So I squirreled it away.  I read every book, every article, every bit of information, scientific fact or utter fantasy. . . and kinda ignored my kid.  I mean I was still there for James, challenging and caring for him, but I was actually numb inside.  Cure him.  Make him better. Make him function.  Push. Try harder.  Of course it didn't work. If only Autism worked like that!  Eventually I started to wonder if it might be best if we weren't around anymore.  Outwardly, I was awesome super mommy, but I knew I wasn't.  By not letting myself mourn, I dried up inside.  By not acknowledging my needs, I started to not to have any.  Soon I didn't deserve any. Suicide/murder was actually the most selfless act.  The best thing to do to free my husband.  So what changed?  Told my guy. Talked to James' psychologist.  Cried, screamed, cursed God.  It was pretty bad.  Did the situation get better? Not for years.  But I did.  All because I let myself feel and be human, be alive.  By letting myself be the needy one, I truly became what James needed.  Special needs parents don't really talk about this tremendous sadness.  I guess we just don't have the time to talk about our feelings, but that's okay, just letting ourselves have them is paramount.