You
start a day by oversleeping because the power went out and your alarm didn’t go
off, you’re now late to work so you have to leave the house without a shower
after you load your pits up with enough deodorant to choke a horse, you trip
and spill your cold coffee that you stole from last night’s coffee pot on your
blouse on the way out the door, run over the neighbors cat accidently (or on purpose)
on your way down the driveway, get out on the road and discover your tank is
almost empty, stop at the local gas station to put just enough gas in to avoid
the huge loan application process, in a frenzy trying to get there, already
late; take off out of the gas station at
a speed that would make the wildest fighter pilot cringe, get one mile down the
road and get pulled over for showing up the fighter pilot, take your ticket and
get to work where your parking spot has been taken by 3 smart cars and a
motorcycle, pull into the nearest 10 mile away spot you can find, run to the
office breaking off the heel of your left shoe, just to arrive at your desk at
the same time you hear the words “dress code violation” come out of your
co-worker’s mouth. Settle down from all
of that, get through a tedious and stressful morning at work, limp through
lunch because the office is out of coffee and you had no time to stop, slump
back in your desk for another 4 or 5 hours where you endure one after another
employee or customer gripes, the phone rings yet again and in your best
corporate voice you answer just to find that it is the school asking you to
leave work and pick up your son who is banging his head violently against the
school lunch table and apparently cannot be stopped. You cancel your appointments for the rest of
the afternoon, head out of the office and on the way are reminded that you’re
way behind on your workload, drop your wallet on the way out of the parking lot
making the 10 mile trek to the car, finish off the pair of shoes with a twisted
right ankle leaning to open the car door, jump in drive like a mad man on crack
for 20 minutes to reach the school, approach the school door and find it
locked, call the front desk and get told to come to the front and show ID,
arrive at front desk and realize you’ve lost your wallet and have no ID with
you, endure a security questioning that would make a federal air marshal proud,
finally get let into the building run into your child’s classroom and find him
happily working with the specialist that recently discovered “just move him
away from the hard object and he stops hitting his head” followed by “he
settled down right after we called you”.
You at
this point don’t want to make another trip so you , against the school’s strong
advice, gather your son up and take him home early just to find when you get
there that the dog has spread trash all over the yard and there is a notice of
a fine from the home owners association on your front door. (Stupid dog! Didn’t I get a dog so he would EAT the home
owners association guy before he made it to the door with notices?) Get in the door, do the “coming home” routine
with your son, get him situated and happy, kick off your shoes, grab the last
of the cold coffee left in the pot and begin to drink straight out of the
decanter, screw the cup at this point, settle into your porch chair, put your
feet up and dial the phone to call a friend who to your surprise when they hear
about your day assumes that you are “such a complainer” or “really do have a
bad outlook on life” or “really need to adjust your attitude”. (Why is it if you want to share a bad
experience with some people they assume that you are complaining that
everything in life is bad all the time)
This is when (if you are a smart person) you hang up the phone without
another word, walk directly into the kitchen and exchange that cold coffee
decanter for the bottle of jack your husband was saving and start sipping.
Or, if
you are not a smart person, like me, you stay on the line in shock, and the
psycho-analyzing begins. “I think this
is because you weren’t breastfed as a child”, or “I think what you need is to
get a better attitude”. It comes in all
shapes and sizes and is like a big “kick in the head” to the average person
trying to deal with life’s ups and downs.
Or “I think you just need to find Jesus” to which I think “well, I
didn’t know he was lost………..I’ll help look!”
I guess at this point since I am venting about my bad day that this
person feels they can safely assume that I am now also without God in my life
and need an old fashion revival.
Apparently
if you have a child with a disability or autism some people (assholes) assume
that
●
You are not just having a bad day and temporarily feeling
out of sorts and need to vent or
●
You are like this on all the other days that they haven’t
been around to witness.
I should
say that these people probably assume things like this about everyone and not
just people with autistic children, but I can only speak about the part
involving autism and disability matters because this blog is not titled
“everyday pretend psychotherapy and the assholes that assume the position”.
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