I’ve escaped today. Not sure what I’ve escaped from exactly, but I’m far away from anyone I know and anything I have to do. I’ve found a secluded spot in a cafe over looking the river and have deliberately chosen the smallest table facing away from the rest of the room. I want to be left alone today.

Sometimes this life just gets a bit too much to handle. I’m not referring to autism here, I’m talking about being the parent of a child with a disability. Or several. It’s emotionally exhausting.

Those of you who know me will know that I am your typical extrovert. By this I don’t mean I’m always the loudest on a night out with the girls (although maybe there is a little truth in that…), but that I simply adore the company of others. I feed off people and their beautiful auras, I’m keen to hear about the contents of their hearts and minds. Normally seeing friends is my favourite pass time. But not today.

Today I couldn’t want to speak to people less. Today I want to get lost in my reading, write down my thoughts (which you are currently reading you poor thing) and breathe in the nature all around me.

My point is, that no matter who you are, what disability you are celebrating or tolerating in your life, sometimes it’s absolutely ok to admit that this is bloody hard.

Now I don’t like to blame autism for my hard days. It’s not the fault of autism that I’m sat here sunken so far into my own soul that I doubt I would notice if the four horseman of the apocalypse rode up right outside the window in front of which I currently sit. But there are times in life where we must contemplate our own resilience levels, our exhaustion, our own peace. Times where we must allow our mind the opportunity to think, to feel and realise just how resilient we as the carer have had to be. How this life and our governing bodies demand resilience, and then some. How we are expected to carry on with little or none of the resources that we actually need in order to function at the same typical level as everyone else.

Today I feel a bit blue. But that’s ok. Because the power of solitude will give me the opportunity to let these thoughts drift in and out of my head as they need to. I will not repress them. For one day they will come to light, no matter how hard you try to push them away. Today, I grieve.

But not without a treat or two! I have my coffee, my crumpets and my writing. And when the time is right, I’ll get up and walk back to my car a whole lot lighter than when I arrived.

Ask yourself if you need some solitude. It may be just what the doctor ordered.

Thanks for reading,

Danielle