Silent Night

 An unquiet night in my head.

So, while I am grieving the loss of my emotional support animal, something else has been unravelling in the background. I'm coming to terms with the fact that the bird had to go one way or another because....

As previously mentioned, we were put on notice about 2 months ago about elder's elevated liver enzymes. Consequent bloodwork and an ultrasound of his liver conclude that he has nonalcoholic fatty liver disease, caused by weight gain.

We didn't notice anything amiss at first.  Elder's anxiety was through the roof in May, so we added sertraline to his medications. At that time, he was 198, the best weight he's been in a couple of years.

At the time of his GI visit 6 weeks ago, he was 232.

I'm guessing from the looks of it he's about 250 now. We don't know, because now the scale doesn't seem to be working. 

His indolence has worsened; he is sneaking food, the worse shape he's in, the worse shape he is getting into. He is digging a hole I'm afraid we will never get him out of. 

Context:  he has nothing. School is done. His work has dried up. He literally has nothing to do BUT eat while dad, his brother and I are all engaged in our various employments. Dad and I do not have the bandwidth to police his every move, and he is knowingly exploiting that. he is literally employing all of his wits to feed his addiction.

Which is precisely what it is. 

And no amount of handwringing in the world is going to fix this. 

Another crisis. Another bend in our autism road. Another battle we find ourselves ill-equipped to fight without reinforcements.

I'm sitting here in the middle of the night shaking. Because I know whatever I'm doing is accelerating the problem because I do not know what I'm doing. 

And elder in his inimitable fashion seems to have dug his heels in self destructing.

This fraught battle over food as addiction has been simmering in the background his entire life as we have fought other enemies, demons, bullies, insanity, injustice, you name it.  Now I need to look in the mirror.

And accept that I can't fight this one alone.

And find someone--or a few someones--who can help.

It's simple enough to say some beasts should not be fed; but somehow, those beasts inadvertently get fed, whether we want them to be or not. And sometimes we inadvertently feed them, thinking we are doing what's best when in fact we're adding to the damage.

This isn't about me. 

This isn't about me. 

The battle is joined.