B. and I loaded up the car with all of the necessary items: 3 stuffed webkinz tree frogs, a pair of 4T red shorts, a little tikes gas pump, his ipad, a water bottle. I wonder if someone watched us get in that car with all of those items and figured we would be gone awhile. On the way home from this weekly trip to OT, the air conditioning on my van completely shut down. Most of the way home I was sweating and grumbling about how much this would cost and how we do not have the money to get it fixed so maybe the cost is a moot point. I dropped B at the house with his home therapist, they went inside while I went to go pick up the carpools. When we returned I went upstairs to check in on Ben and found my jewelry strewn about the hall (which would not be terribly unusual given that Ben gets into my stuff regularly). In this case, my bathroom had been ransacked and all of my jewelry was gone, my laptop was stolen. I called the police and paged the husband. When the police arrived we also noticed that they stole E's jewelry box as well (hope the robber has fun with all the BFF half-heart necklaces, silly bands and the friendship bracelets made from string), and that T's bank had been dumped on his bed and 2 $20 bills were missing. Stealing from an 8 year old's piggy bank is disgusting to me.
Since then I keep thinking of jewelry items that I will miss but are probably replaceable. My diamond engagement ring and wedding ring were in the mix of jewelry that was stolen and that was probably the one thing with the most monetary and sentimental value. My kids were upset. T was immediately crushed that someone would steal his money and even my promises to go to the ATM that minute and replace the money didn't really soothe his hurt feelings. I get that. E was concerned and scared, not immediately, but I caught her awake in bed that night and she asked, "what if the robber is still in the house?" which is of course irrational but that's how fear rolls.
I posted on facebook about how we were robbed and I might have put a digital frowny face :( Many friends posted supportive comments and offers of help and positive thoughts and prayers. Also many posted validating comments about how scared we must be and creeped out that someone had been in our house, and how crushed I must be to have lost my rings.
Honestly, I'm not crushed. I'm not really even sad. And even I am surprised at how blase I feel about the whole thing. I didn't post this on facebook because I'm certain everyone thinks I make everything about autism. Everything in my life *is* about autism. Five years ago, I would have been devastated to lose those rings; I would have been so upset that someone had come into my home (in my bathroom, no less) and stole my things! And stole cash from my 8 year old's bank! The nerve!
I've been trying to figure this out- why do I just not care anymore? Is it because I've been through so much trauma in the past few years that I'm just numb now? My previous interactions with the police (and for those who are counting, that would be 4 times in the course of 18 months) were about my 4-5 year old nonverbal autistic son running out of his house and I had to call the police to find him. Waiting for up to 45 minutes thinking of all the trouble he may have encountered during that time (drowning, falls from heights, drowning, being kidnapped, drowning, being hit by a car...) does have a way of numbing the senses to other less serious events, which is pretty much everything that is not life/death.
Is it because after all these years of being forced to live simply, I've just become less materialistic over time? Probably not (though that would certainly be the explanation that I'd like to claim!)
I think the most likely explanation is this: When you, or worse- your child, does not have health, no*thing* matters anymore. Over five years ago, the most important thing in my life was stolen and that was the health of my toddler boy (I almost put "growing boy" in there but actually he wasn't growing and that was part of the problem.) And since then I have made continuous attempts to find what has been lost. Regaining his health has become a full-time, unpaid job- one which I frankly had no choice but to take. Of course, he's doing better and it has been more than worth it. But he's not *all* better so his health still evades me. And unlike my rings or laptop, it's not as simple as trolling the pawn shops in downtown Durham. And the insurance doesn't cover this kind of loss, though it should. And giving up is not an option. So I keep plugging away. I keep researching on the internet and reading message boards to find new treatments. I will put those doctor visits on the credit cards and hope. I keep shuttling to and participating in therapies. I keep advocating for his needs- both educational and health care related. I will keep looking....
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