Take Each Day By Day

I now know that the problem was that I said it out loud. I said it to my friends. I said it to my husband, I even said it to his teacher. I now know better. Never say it out loud.   "He's having a really good week."   And he really had been. My little ASDer had been happy, cheerful and compliant. Excited to go to school and doing extra homework he was ever a delight.    Saturday came and under the illusion of this wonderful behaviour, I didn't hesitat e to take my child to a boxing class at the beach. He was great! This streak was continuing so off to breakfast I suggested to a friend.    Fate and luck had run out.    He chose the wrong food.    He didn't like the toys that were there.   He was bored.    So after his chocolate milkshake was consumed and he ate the discovered gingerbread that marginally saved breakfast- it was time to go. Suddenly instead of being the rational human he usually is - impatient but still considerat

Off to Diamond Beach. My little ASDer was so excited! We had been to this holiday park before and even though last time we packed up after a rough couple of days and our instincts should have warned us we were still hopeful that this time it would better. This was our first big adventure family  since my husband had been diagnosed with his work-related PTSD. All the trip planning had been his idea so I was confident that he would be ok venturing so far away from home. We settled in and everything seemed to be going well until my son attempted to bring some routine to his daily activities. For two days he wanted to do the same thing in the same order and the same way. Not such a big deal but within 24 hours of being away from home, the stress and great outdoors started to affect my husband. He was down. He was restless and he craved the dullness of a few beers. He couldn't handle the friendliness of families by the pool - people who just wanted to say hi as our sudden

Ok not really, that is a little dramatic but it did occur to me recently that I have referenced my husband's PTSD several times without actually addressing it directly.  So rather than put words in his mouth, or in this case type my own ideas on things (that can be a whole separate post...) here are his words directly. Hope they clear up a bit more of the journey we are on and help anyone out there who is suffering. His background is a sad but all too familiar one of giving his life up to serve and help others. Entering a job whilst practically a baby and although he smashed it and was a success in terms of patient treatment and team player the demons he was already exposed to took advantage of the horrors that we only hear or read about.  Here is his most recent post from his facebook page Racing REHAB. "Mental Health awareness is front row and centre at the moment and I can safely say that if you are struggling mentally in Australia there is so much help out there

Food, glorious food. After 6 days at home, I have to confess that if you tell me you are hungry, I might respond in a seemingly stark over reaction but frankly this uttered phrased has driven me to the edge. It is spoken at least every hour. On the hour. No matter where I am. The toilet, shower, kitchen, working, hanging the washing, driving – nowhere is sacred for this phrase, this demand, this constant need. “ Mum I just have something I want to tell you.” “I’m hungry”. It has been a long beginning to the school holidays. The frantic panic to write THE LIST (my chores for the holidays that has become ritualistic and I can’t settle until it is done) to settling into a routine that doesn’t disrupt my PTSD husband’s much needed routine, but also doesn’t see me take on too much or I might as well not be on break. The first couple of days felt like a dance, not wanting to go too hard too fast for fear that my child will think every day off is a crazy adventure