As I sit here reflecting on our friendship, I can’t help but feel a deep love for you. Yet, the reality is that we rarely see each other. We often laugh and say it’s because life is hectic—juggling jobs and kids in our 30s has its challenges. Each month, we promise ourselves that we’ll finally find time to reconnect, but as the days slip by, we find ourselves joking through texts about how one day, we’ll actually make it happen. But I’m beginning to wonder if that day will ever come—at least for me.
The truth is, everything has changed. While we may want to maintain the illusion that things are the same, they are not. Our lives have taken different paths, and although we are best friends—almost like family—our realities are quite distinct. You and your children hold a special place in my heart, but I can’t ignore the differences we both face.
My son, Max, has autism. This diagnosis has turned my life upside down and redirected it in countless ways. On most days, I find myself just trying to hold on.
My Apologies
I want to express my sincere apologies. I’m sorry for not being able to make plans with you, for hesitating to commit to anything, and mostly, for always having to cancel. You know the saying, “It’s not you, it’s me”? In this case, it’s entirely true. This is all on me.
Just this morning, I awoke at 3:15 a.m. with Max. This is a common occurrence for me. Some mornings are easier than others, but there are days when he struggles, and it becomes overwhelming. I could share these details with you, but I stopped trying a long time ago—not just with you, but with everyone. My life can feel so surreal that it’s hard to convey it to others. When I do, you offer your support and suggestions, but deep down, I know they won’t work, which led me to stop sharing.
Navigating Autism
As a result, I often let your calls go to voicemail because I simply don’t have the energy to answer. I watch your texts pile up, and if we do manage to connect, I hesitate to make plans. If we do schedule something, I often cancel at the last minute. This isn’t my intention; it’s just that Max’s needs change from day to day, and I have little control over it.
Life in my world has become a series of doctor visits, therapy sessions, and navigating autism. In the beginning, I did try to balance it all. When Max was younger, I’d still join you for playdates at parks, but while I struggled to keep it together, you seemed to enjoy your kids with ease. Conversations were filled with discussions about milestones, while I was consumed with therapy appointments and managing my son’s needs.
I’ve felt the strain in our friendship. I miss you and the bond we shared. I can sense that you might feel unsure around me—perhaps you think I’m too sensitive. Please know that I love your children as if they were my own, but it can still be painful to witness their successes.
The Transition
I often wonder how things changed so drastically. It wasn’t a slow evolution; it all shifted the moment Max was born. Before that day, our lives ran parallel—we were both preparing for the future, blissfully unaware of the challenges that lay ahead.
Then, suddenly, I was labeled as an autism parent, and that label weighed heavily on my shoulders. The differences between our children became increasingly evident, and my reality became filled with medical appointments and therapy sessions, making it hard for us to relate to one another.
As I withdrew from our friendship, I could see the distance grow. I knew it was happening, but I felt powerless to stop it. The moments we once shared became overshadowed by the barrier that autism created between us.
Finding My Place
I want you to understand that I wake up each day with the best intentions. I genuinely want to connect with friends and re-enter the world. But by the end of the day, I’m often too exhausted to even respond to your messages. I see updates about your child’s activities, and while I’m thrilled for you, it reminds me of the challenges I face with Max, who still requires so much care.
I want you to forgive me for my distance. Autism isn’t your reality; it’s mine. Thank you for standing by me during this time, and please don’t give up on me. I promise that I will make an effort to return. I believe that things will improve and that one day we’ll be able to reconnect fully.
In the meantime, know that I’m trying to fit into your world. I will always hope for a future where we can be as close as we once were, where our kids can grow up together.
Summary
In this heartfelt message, I express my love and apologies to a friend I’ve unintentionally distanced myself from due to the challenges of parenting a child with autism. I reflect on how our lives have diverged and the emotional toll it has taken on our friendship. Despite the obstacles, I hope for a future where we can reconnect and share our lives once more.
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