Have You Ever Flavored Your Egg Yolks with Salty Tears?

For those of us on this journey of raising typical-looking-different-brained kids, the fun just never. freaking. stops. Yes, that is sarcasm.

Would you like to join me as my tears fall into my egg yolk? I hope that you do. I love company.

It all started because I wanted eggs cooked by my husband. I don’t think that’s really where it started, but that seems to be a good beginning for this story.

You see, we moved in together recently and, of course, I thought eggs cooked by my husband in our new home would be lovely.

I come to our new home with one cat and two children. He comes to our new home with three cats and one child. It’s a big, lovely home for the two adults, three children, and four cats who just all became roommates.

As you may know if you’re reading along as I write this blog (thank you, followers), my son is not the easiest person in the world to hang out with. He makes unreasonable requests. Got it. He threatens when he feels under attack. Yep. His main goal is often to “control” those that are around him so he feels safe/powerful/superior. He’s amazing all the way through, though. Please remember that too!

So now that my husband is around my eldest child more often than he ever has been, he (the adult man) is realizing that he is simply not okay with the threats. He’s not okay with the hurtful words that come out of Michael’s mouth.

Which brings us to the next portion of this saga, where we are currently trying to work our way through this conflict.

There Are Two Sides to Every Coin

From where I’m standing, I’ve got a diagnosis and I’ve got history and I’ve got the realization that this child is the same exact child that I had last month. But he’s in a different home with different roommates. He’s on the autism spectrum, so I expect it will be more difficult for him.

We’re all still adjusting to this crazy stunt we’ve embarked upon.

From my husband’s viewpoint, best that I can tell, he’s got pain from the hurtful words Michael says when he’s tangled up inside. My husband’s sense of justice demands that painful words must be dealt with. He needs to feel safe in his own home for not only himself, but for his daughter and other family members as well (me and my other son included, I’m sure).

You already have opinions, don’t you?

The Plot Thickens

I think we are simply not using the right words to describe exactly what we need from each other. We both need something that we’re not getting. Our conversations end in angry silence because I refuse to speak further about it until I can process it more in my mind.

And we are getting closer each day to the miracle that will come from this. But each night as we work on more of this issue, I end up in a cold, angry silence. He tends to stay silent as well, following my lead. Shhhh, it’s quiet time here.

It seems that we are coming at this from such different angles that I can’t even understand where he’s coming from. Like seriously, I’m just not getting it. And when I talk, he seems to not be getting my side either.

Here’s what I’m going to do next (take notes if you need to):

I’m going to give him the silent treatment. It’s okay, hear me out on this . . . It’s so much nicer than any words I might want to share. And I don’t even know what to say next. I love this man more than anything. I do not want to hurt him more than he’s already hurting, so I’m saying in my silence, “I can’t be with you right now on this.” Which leads to . . .

  1. We’re going to find a therapist to help us communicate and build a bridge from one side of this to the other. This is a core issue in our relationship and it needs mended and we need support to get there.
  2. I’m going to write. I’m writing right now and the right thing to do is write. Right?
  3. I’m going to wait. Time is one of the best and clearest healing tools around. Time heals, and if there are no clear next steps, time will show the next move, even if by default.
  4. I’m going to accept these huge feelings of sadness and darkness and anger. They are bigger than I’ve experienced in quite some time, so I will be with them and explore them further through journaling.
  5. I’m going to accept and understand that we just moved! Gracious, it’s not easy moving and we still have some of our stuff in storage.

I’m hurting, I’m scared, I’m angry, I’m sorrowful, I’m peaceful, I’m committed to my family, and I’m creative. This will be figured out, of that I am sure.

But seriously, I don’t want to cry into my over-medium eggs anymore. I still want my husband to cook them for me, and I’m sure that he will because he’s an amazingly resilient, strong, tender, and generous man.


For now, though, tears might still drip onto my plate as we work through this difficult experience together—for our family . . . and for the autism community . . . and for our world. Because it’s that important.

All the love to you right where you are,


Meet me on Facebook to hang out.

Book reviews coming soon—I’m really excited about them!

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