69. Adios

Now that the decision to go to my parent's in Shreveport was made I could relax somewhat. I had very mixed feelings about leaving but I knew that since the children and I had been taken to a shelter, I needed to stick with the advice they had given me. Basically it was that I shouldn't return home. I had no time to mourn the loss of our home so I just continued to stay in the proactive mindset. My mind was humming. I called Savannah and Sean's teachers and told them that the children wouldn't come back to school and that they would never see them again. I was especially emotional when talking to Sean's teachers, Sylvia, and Mrs. Livingston because they had been there for us since Sean was first diagnosed with autism. They were the early intervention pioneers in our lives. They worked extremely hard to pull Sean out of himself and hone his communication skills. They taught me too. They were tough. They were consistent and truly fine examples of how all teachers should be. I was afraid to make the transition without them. I prayed for Sean's future teachers to be as patient and understanding. Setting up my support system as soon as I got settled in Birmingham, more specifically, Mountain Brook was priority. I had miles to go in a short time before then.

Pat's husband Jack (of Jack's Homemade Margaritas) took my car to be serviced before I made the ten hour drive to Shreveport. I had an old Corolla that hadn't been serviced in some time. My car was never the car that got all the attention so it was quite neglected and costly. Jack made sure it was ready to roll. He never took a dime from me. What a blessing of security. 

The night before we left was bittersweet. I was ready to start a new chapter but I didn't want to leave my loving friends. Besides that, Pat was throwing a big birthday celebration for Jack at the end of the month and I didn't want to miss it! I didn't want to say goodbye this way but it had to be so. I don't remember if I slept very much at all that night but the next morning I was looking at life in a new light.

I packed the car with the few things I had taken the night we abruptly left, so all that was left to do was say, "Goodbye." As I hugged Pat, she gave me a wad of cash with a look on her face that said, "Take it and shut up." so I did. I began to cry but Pat said, "You're going to be okay."

And I believed her.

68. Interference

When we arrived at the Smith's house the children began to play as if it were any other visit. My children, quirks and all, were always made to feel at home at Pat's house. There was plenty of space to breathe too. Lord have mercy, we needed space to breathe! I felt my throat open up, my brow soften and my jaw loosen. As far as my mind was concerned it felt like I was on a fast train watching the outside world zing past me. I had to focus.

Several months previously I decided I was leaving the marriage so I began making plans. Plan A meant that the children would finish out the school year, then we would move to Birmingham near family, then I would file for divorce. Plan A sure as hell got bumped to Bum Flip Egypt so Plan B had to be planned and fast. I felt stuck. I likened it to the way Sean must have felt when we had to pick up his line made from video tapes because it prevented the garage door from being opened and he "needed" it open. Sometimes the undesired plan is the only one to follow.

While at Pat's I began making phone calls to find some free legal advice regarding my parental rights before leaving Texas. It wasn't easy. Savannah went to school with Pat's daughter Alyson so I took Sean with me to the "first come first serve legal counsel" cattle call back in Harlingen. I picked a number but it wasn't called. I ultimately went to a women's advocate organization and was reassured that I wouldn't be breaking any laws if I left the state with the children. I was reminded that even though Savannah and Sean were both of ours, I was their Mother. So, Sean and I went back to the car where I called my parents on Pat's cell phone. I burst into tears for the first time since we had left and said, "I'm coming home." 

I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I spoke those words. I looked at Sean and remembered that he was my strength. Savannah was my peace. With strength and peace, support from friends and family, and a place to go, we were going to be okay. Nothing was going to get in the way.

67. D is for Done

Savannah and Sean were asleep in their room, unaware that they were about to be plucked from their beds to never return to their home in Harlingen, Texas.

My dad made the call from Shreveport as I sit in my room waiting for the police to come. I had asked him to do it so I could get off the phone as soon as possible. Everything was so calm and quiet. I could hear my heart pound in my head. There was no other sound.

My husband was surprised when he answered the knock. I started breathing again and came out of my bedroom. They separated us to question us. It was obvious to the Officer that I had reached my limit. I wanted to take the children and a few of their favorite things and never look back. I was willing to leave everything else.

It was about eleven P.M. by the time I drove away from a home that the children never returned to. I am not sure why the Officer told my husband they were escorting us to a shelter. I had not been physically assaulted. Apparently, he felt like we needed to be in a sheltered environment. All I wanted to do was get to the room my dad had reserved at La Quinta. I needed to sleep then construct a plan. I knew I needed to get as much information on record as possible, so I followed the advice of the Officer. The children were clueless and quiet. I found out later that Savannah was worried about being awakened because it was a school night. They never returned to their schools.

After a very long intake, it was close to two in the morning by the time we were taken to our room. It was impossible to stay another night at the shelter and follow the house rules. Sean was adventurous and hard to manage. I decided to leave the next afternoon. Somehow, in the midst of trying to leave, I locked my key in the trunk. I always kept a spare wired to the underside of the car but when I went to get it, it was gone. I sunk to the ground. I had a weak moment but in that moment I reminded myself that I was now in control. The key had been removed - so what? 

I called the locksmith then I called my beloved friend Pat. Without hesitation she offered us her home. As I made my way to Pat's I thought about the last sixteen years. Finally, something had taken my mind off the autism.

"I don't ever remember feeling this awake" ~Thelma

66. The D Word

I had done my best to do what I was supposed to do when a marriage is falling apart. I went to counseling. I followed the self-help advice. I listened. And I listened. And I listened. The record was most definitely broken.

I'm not sure who blurted out the D word first but I never let it go. D is for drama too, and there had been enough to make me want to return to Alabama where some of my closest friends lived. I knew that Pat and I would see each other so I didn't worry about missing her to terribly much. She supported my decision to move on with my life. She had been my sounding board for the past two years. I listened to myself as she listened to me. It was a mental process. Even though I had nothing to live on, I had to visualize and have faith that things could be more peaceful for me and the children. Once I did so, there was no stopping me but it would take some time.

I kept hearing him say:

"You are forty years old and have an autistic son! Just what do you think you're gonna do?"

I didn't know. I was scared to death. Before the final move there were some short term separations. Because of them, I could catch my breath and think. Everything was moving so quickly. The phone calls to my parents, his mother, the counselor, his friends, and anyone else who would listen to him continued. The dirty laundry had been officially aired. My parents were miles away in Shreveport. They felt helpless. They feared for me.

After a hellacious weekend, that Sunday night in April, I called my parents from my bedroom and said: 

"I'm ready to make my move. Call the police and book me a room."