Share the joy

I just can’t even respond to this properly, and I’m a mess.

I want to scream, “Why did you do it? WHY?”

But I can’t. Because I kind of know why. I mean, I think I do. Insofar as I understand mental illness, and I know what it feels like to lose one’s mind, and I comprehend the desperate plea one makes unto the world:

“Help. Somebody. Anybody. Please. Help.”

No exclamation marks.

Because there isn’t any energy left for that. It’s not a question or a command. It’s a simple, “I’m done here. Game over. Help.”

Because the rest of the sentence probably goes, “…or not. Whatever. I just can’t even care anymore.”

You’re probably wondering WTF I am even talking about.

Fair question.

I don’t know how to answer, because it’s not my story, and it’s not about me, and I’m just sitting here crying and all dramatic like somehow I’m allowed to be brokenhearted over this thing that happened to people I’ve never met.

I just can’t even begin to figure out a lucid response.

But I’ll try.

Something happened to a blogger I follow.

But maybe I’m not phrasing that correctly. A lot of critics have hollered that the blogger isn’t the victim. And in a way they’re right. Because she tried to kill her violently autistic daughter. So yeah. In that cold, logical perspective, the “something” that happened wasn’t directed at the blogger, but at her daughter. I get that.

But that’s not the whole story.

And here’s the bit where maybe I’m crazy, too.

Because, while I don’t ever agree that you should attempt to murder anyone, particularly your own child, I can’t help but want to explain to the world, “There’s more to it than that!”

It’s not like this mom just woke up one morning and out of the blue decided that today would be a good day to get rid of her kid. There was a whole string of incidents leading up to this sad, sad affair.

And I’m left in a puddle of my own tears.

Because I’m torn. I know psychotic breakdown. I know emotional anguish. I know mental snaps. And I want to comfort this person. I want to tell her, “You didn’t know what you were doing.”

And then I want to tell everyone else, too. I just can’t even stop crying long enough to get this all straight on paper, though. And who cares? It’s not about me. I didn’t even know her. Sure, I read her blog and I followed her story. But I didn’t know her.

There has been a lot of nasty judgment.

People who never read this mom’s words think they know the whole story. And they’re going back and reading her words now, like it’s the same thing as reading them without already knowing the ending. And they know all these things.

There’s no such thing as autism.
There’s no such thing as losing your mind.
There’s no such thing as heartache-rage-frustration-helplessness.
There’s no such thing as anything ever anywhere what.
There’s plenty of help for all the broken things.
There’s plenty of money for lawyers and counselors and doctors and programs.
There’s plenty of time.
There’s plenty of patience.

All these experts.

One asked, “Where were you?” and I still want to know the answer to that question. All these experts, and I just can’t even remember them piping up with their overflowing founts of knowledge back when it would have been helpful.

And maybe they are right and maybe I have the whole thing wrong and maybe I’m biased because of my own background and maybe I’m predisposed to sympathize with this mom since I read her blog. Maybe. Maybe.

But even if they are the rightest right that ever righted…

I hate them. I hate their smug arrogance. I hate their tardy answers and belated advice. I hate their cruelty.

I hate them and I hate them and I hate them.

You can know everything and all of it and the rest of this and that, but it doesn’t mean a damn thing if you just sat and watched someone fall, slowly, down a hill.

I just can’t even get on track here.

I’m sorry. I’m going to try to start again. I’ve been up all night and I just can’t even for the life of me figure out what I’m trying to say. I’m just so goddamn angry, you guys. And sad. And angry.

My hubz says I feel things too deeply.

I FUCKING KNOW THAT. I know I feel things too deeply. That’s why I can’t stand to be around people. That’s why I can’t answer the phone or go see who’s knocking at the door. That’s why I want to stay home and hide under my desk.

I feel things too deeply and it makes me sad and angry.

Because — HEY! — maybe if everyone felt things so deeply, there would be more empathy, which just might lead to peace.

My hubz says he hopes this doesn’t sit on me.

Because this is the kind of thing that does sit on me. But, you guys, I think it should sit on you, too.

When you know that someone you like is in pain, you should ache for her. And when that pain pushes her over the edge of reason, you should feel conflicted about her actions — appalled at her actions, understanding of her actions, guilty that you understand her actions. And when you feel conflicted, your heart should explode and you should cry.

But right now? I just can’t even.

I’ve been crying all night. Now, today, I have to go shopping with my daughter’s step-mom. Because my daughter needs pants for the winter. And it just feels so unimportant, but later when the snows come, I know I’ll be glad I went.

I couldn’t write any more.

I wrote all that yesterday, and then let it sit as a draft. A day later, and still I just can’t even figure out what to say, but I have so many emotions at war, I feel like I have to say SOMETHING.

A blogger name Kelli attempted to kill both herself as well as her .

There were a lot of issues precipitating this event.

It was a horrible thing, arising out of a horrible situation, and defines our horrible lack of support for families in need.

That’s what happened. Issy seems to be “okay” for whatever “okay” can mean for a child suffering not just autism, but an extremely violent version of it. Kelli is in jail, facing life in prison.

And I am changed. Whether for the better, or for the worse, I just can’t even say.

Andi-Roo

Kristi, I don't have children with autism, or any kind of special needs, so much of the lingo is lost on me. I understand there is a wide spectrum, and different plans, and different methods, and different diets. I understand there are different camps with regard to vaccinations. I understand that, just like in homeschooling versus public schooling, or breastfeeding versus bottle, there is much infighting as to what's "best" and that there is truly no "best" that works across the board. I know that there is a lot of confusion regarding whether or not autistic children are all violent, and that the confusion arises from ignorance, as violence seems to be as prevalent in autistic children as in NON autistic children. I know there is a lot of judgment as to how autistic children should be raised, and whether they should be raised at all. I know all this. But not first hand. All of it comes second-hand, from friends immersed in the world of autism, from other bloggers who write about autism, from activists and news articles. Which means, ultimately, not having lived it myself, that I don't know JACK. Even so, not knowing JACK about autism, I can still manage to find empathy for an ailing parent who obviously hit rock bottom. I'm a mom, and I suffer debilitating Depression and Anxiety. I would like to think that even if these things weren't true of me, however, that human decency would allow me to wonder what happened to Kelli. Of COURSE we do not condone what she did! It's ludicrous to equate empathy with cheering on her actions. And that's why I just have to believe that the haters can't possibly have hearts. They can't possibly have lived through difficulty. They can't possibly have suffered. Regardless of their situations, they can't possibly have endured anything, ever, which encouraged them to walk in another's shoes and know what it's like to SNAP. Yay for them, I guess. I'm so glad we met through this. I'm sorry we met through this, but I'm happy that some sliver of silver lining managed to wedge itself between the cracks. Yes, indeed, my lovely new friend. I don't know your situation, I don't know your life, I don't know your story, but I know you have a heart, and I know I like you. I like you quite well.

6 comments

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ginavalley

This is just beyond tragic. We should all be ashamed that it came to this point for this family. No words can describe the hopelessness of a parent with an out of control child and an unresponsive, uncaring system that is "helping." The lack of support and the ridiculous options for parents of seriously difficult children is shameful. This family, this parent, this child are in this situation because they reached out for help, begged for help, and were given none. Tragic. Beyond tragic.

Kristi Rieger Campbell

New friend. I am so so so changed too. And I'm floored by the hatred. I'm floored by the fact that there are people out there saying ABA is bad. Is it? Not for me. Not for my son. Maybe sometimes but NOT FOR US. I, too, wrote a post (as you know) that my husband told me to leave alone. Do I condone Kelli's actions? F#CK NO. But do I understand desperation and despair and feeling like you're alone in all the world and that nobody understands you or your child? Yes. I feel that. I'd never hurt my son. But holycow people need to feel things more. I tried to help Kelli and Issy and I believe in them (also did you notice that less-than-nice-post you linked to didn't even spell Issy's name right?)...I feel things too deeply too. I still don't know what to think about Kelli. I don't know why she's in jail and not a mental health facility. I don't know how Issy's doing because I DON'T KNOW them except for from the interwebs world. And neither do the haters. They don't know us. They don't know our lives. My lovely new friend. I am changed, too. And I sometimes sortof wish I weren't. But I'm glad I found you.

Gina, I'm pretty sure you just summed up a large portion of my anger and frustration... and Kelli's as well. So glad I'm not alone in my feelings, but golly --- sure wish it wasn't like this in the first dang place!

maggie winter

What a very sad story, I just read one of Kelli posts, I can understand why you followed her. What a heart breaking situation for all of them and for exactly your reasons. I also feel too much and maybe it hurts a lot but by God I would rather be this way then try to judge that poor woman, the only judgement I have is that she should not be in a prison. I wish them all the best, thank you for sharing, I hope it helps your pain too. Its very true old saying, "that if we all put our problems in a big pot we'd soon grab our own back, we wouldn't want someone else's"', very true indeed. If you get time take a look at this site, may help you understand your empathic nature better, take care sweetie.;) http://www.psychicbutsane.com/empathy/is-overactive-empathy-ruining-your-life

Maggie, thank you for your kind words. Writing is my way of sorting through my storm of emotions, so in a way it helped, and seeing other people chiming in validates my confusion, if that makes sense? I will definitely check out the site you suggested. Thank you for caring -- I appreciate knowing there are people out there who still have hearts that can be broken.