Ive got three kids (11, 10 and 7). Our 10 and 7 year old have autism and adhd. The youngest is also non verbal and has an autoimmune disease.
I’ve been a carer for 10 years as we realised the kids wouldn’t cope in nursery ft or even pt. I’m exhausted. My parents are elderly so do help by taking the older two out but the youngest is incredibly hyperactivity. He climbs on Windows, jumps on beds, runs off, throws stuff, screams if things aren’t as he wants them. I’ve carried the mental load coping with the kids and the house and doing therapies with my dh essentially parenting our oldest son. I’m trying to step back but every decision my dh wants to run past me. Should we do this, should we do that. Yet hasn’t been emotionally supportive or available as they’ve grown up. He doesn’t see it this way.
My mum has mentioned residential school for my youngest. I’ve realised that the moment he gets home from his specialist school at 4pm all my attention has to go on him as he can’t be left alone. I feel like a dreadful parent as I can’t give my other two children (including the other one with special needs) enough attention. I feel burnt out and exhausted. We don’t get respite and 4 hours a month wouldn’t be enough as my son would have extreme anxiety if he didn’t know the person enough and four hours a month wouldn’t allow for this. I don’t know what to do. I’m so tired of life. My husband wanted us to go out today but I couldn’t face how much effort it would take and god forbid if it wasn’t right in anyway the youngest would lose it (he can’t talk). We try and tailor everything to suit him. Especially if he’s been awake in the night which he frequently is.
I’ve just started a new job in school hours as I want to reclaim what is left of my shattered identify.
I feel awful for even considering residential school. I can’t imagine others caring for my young child. It breaks my heart the thought of sending him away like I’m rejecting him. But on the other hand I’m not sure how longer I can deal with him. Today he had an hour long meltdown as I wouldn’t let him upstairs as he’d already trashed it. Even the simple joy of trying to read him a story he screams, moves around and hits me.
He’s currently on his window sill whilst I’m sat on his floor where I will spend the next few hours getting him into bed.