Waiting for the storm to pass

I dropped him off at school this morning and watched in my rear view mirror as he slowly walked to the building.  I watched my tall, lanky, pre-teen boy walk into the school building with a frown on his face. He looked defeated. He looked unhappy. He looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. What happened to my smiley, happy little boy.

Our evening had been spent trying to motivate him to get his homework done as he yelled at us at the top of his lungs about not having enough Minecraft time. His squeaky, ever changing voice would crack as he screamed at us about how mean we are to him. Then, the screaming would instantly change to talking about us under his breath. Then we began arguing about the fact that he had to take a good shower because that is part of growing up (this is a nightly issue).

Our morning was filled with this sluggish pre-teen who wouldn't get out of bed, wouldn't get dressed, had to be reminded to brush his teeth, put on his deodorant and get his bag ready for school. Then, he was completely silent in the car during the ride to school as he sat and read his comic book and ignored me

I was once told in an IEP meeting that raising a teenager with Aspergers is10 times harder than raising a teenager off of the spectrum. I don't know if this number is accurate, but I know that the daily stress our family is under right now makes that number seem very real.

Most days I try to laugh at it and try to keep things in perspective. He is a teenager. These are tough years. I get it! We will get through this. Some days are almost unbearable. I want my little boy back. Days with him have not been easy with him for a long time. Mornings have always been tough. Homework has always been a struggle. This, however, is a whole new ballgame.

I think the hardest part of the whole thing is watching my son seem so confused. The mixture of the hormones; and the changes his body is going through; and the stress that homework puts on him; and the middle school drama; and the OCD behaviors he is now experiencing;  they have all combined in his 5'8", 100lb body to cause a raging storm. It is a storm that is unmatched. There is no shelter from it.

As his mom, I just want him to be able to have a happy life. I want him to fulfill his dreams. I take the advice of those older and wiser than me when they say that this storm will pass. I pray that they are right. I hope that this storm passes and that one day I will look back at these days as a distant memory because that unhappy boy will be a strong, happy, confident man.