I've tried to write a post a hundred times. (That's an exaggeration. Maybe ten).
I get a few words down. Then delete.
Write some more. Delete.
Write several paragraphs. Delete.
I think I know what I want to say and then I get typing and it all comes out wrong. It sounds like a burden. Like unhappiness. Like wallowing. And I don't want it to sound that way.
So I try again.
Write some more. Delete some more.
Parenting is hard. Parenting special needs sometimes makes it harder. Today for no good reason and a million good reasons all at the same time, that feels very true.
And apparently that's all I needed to say. And not because I want you to feel sorry for me but because this is my life. And sometimes, whether I seem strong or whatever other nice way you might describe me, it all gets a bit heavy.
Good thing tomorrow is a new day, eh? And good thing between now and tomorrow there's wine and chocolate.