So. Heavy.

Today the weight of being a parent with two autistic kids was too heavy. Crushing the air out of my lungs. Slumping my shoulders under its sheer mass. Threatening to splinter my spine.

How can I possibly keep doing this all my life, I wonder for the hundredth or thousandth or millionth time. How do people DO this?

I had a disagreement with a coworker about a completely benign issue. Rather than rely on my inherent rightness, which is my usual MO in difference of opinion situations, I wanted to scream, "I don't have time for this crap. Don't you know I am raising two autistic sons???"

On another day, the press release a coworker forwarded wouldn't have set off the gnawing fear in the pit of my stomach. It was about Special Needs Trusts, an issue of interest to one of our clients, forwarded as an FYI. But today, when I opened the email, I found myself panicking. I don't have ONE Special Needs Trust set up, let alone TWO. I find myself in the absurd position -- albeit very briefly -- of wondering what's worse: Bryan and me dying first and leaving our sons to navigate the world without us, or them dying first and leaving us desolate and alone?

Like I said, absurd. Crazy. Not worthy of contemplation.

Eventually I am able to recover my composure to a point I can function without the constant threat of tears. I can push the panic to the back of my mind and focus on my mundane "to do" list. Pay bills. Check. Book a flight for an upcoming presentation in Dallas. Check. Review my notes for the pitch I'm doing tomorrow. Check. Go to my meetings with Hill staff and talk about funding for helicopters or whatever the heck it is I'm lobbying today.

But it's still there. Just below the surface. That panic. That familiar, helpless feeling. No matter how many lists I make or how many therapists I engage, I can't escape it.

How? How can I do this?

Tomorrow will be better. It has to be. Right?