It's four o'clock in the fucking morning.

It's four o'clock in the god damned morning. I have not slept. I do not have insomnia, I have an autistic son that I am inches away from throwing out the fucking window. My house is a shambles. I have systematically gone through and removed every light bulb from every light fixture to keep him from turning on the lights. I have shut down the power strip in the living room to keep him from turning on the tv. I have been trying to get him to go to bed for the past seven hours. I have bodily carried him into the bedroom and placed him in his bed more times than I can remember. My jaw aches from my grinding teeth. My stomach is in an ulcerous knot. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to throw him across the room. I want to fucking go to sleep.

Three hours sleep

Ben finally fell asleep at 5:30. He was up again by 9:00. He woke me up by figuring out how to plug the television back in, turning it on to static, and then turning the volume up as high as it would go.

I slept on a bare, unmade bed because the cat peed right in the middle of the bed so I had to strip off the sheets and mop up the urine before I could lay down. I did not have any clean sheets to put back on the bed. They all stink of cat urine. I slept under a comforter that reeks of cat urine because I had no other blankets left. I tried to lay down on the couch, but the reek of urine soaked into the futon was too overpowering. The cat goes. Today.

She's gone.

I sat in my car and cried like a baby for at least 15 minutes afterward. I felt like a complete failure, like I had let her down. I felt like there had to be something else I could have tried. More than that, I felt completely spent. I just don't have it in me anymore. Ben takes too much, and I don't have anything left.