Ouch, You Hurt My Feeling

I think I'm suffering from a lack of faith in human kind.  Actually, I know it.  Perhaps Dayton gets his autism from me, because I'm starting to think that either:  a) I'm a wee bit autistic, b) I'm super naive, c) I'm just plain dumb and should dye my hair blond and change my name to "Bubbles", or d) I'm suffering from schizophrenia (and no people, settle down, I'm not making fun of people who have schizophrenia, I'm serious!!!).

Any of these options is a sign that I'm in some serious trouble.  A combination of them could mean serious consequences to the next person that asks me a question if I'm not heavily medicated.

It appears that someone I thought I could trust with my son, my life, my reason for living, has been talking smack about Dayton, me, myself and I.  Calling me a fat you know what among other names that I just don't feel comfortable repeating as I refuse to believe that I'm anything but a lady...  Yeah, it could be me being delusional, but I'd like to think of myself as one, so I won't repeat the nasty names.  But even worse, she called my son the 'r' word.  You know the one, the one that raises the hair on the back of your neck like a rooster in heat...  The one that makes you want to peck the one who utters it to death. The dreaded 'r' word.  I can't even type it.  And I'm devastated.  How could she betray me this way???

Aaaaaaaaaachew!  Excuse me....  just allergic to fake-a$$ness...

This same woman I defended from a disturbed, knife wielding ex husband who wanted to show her how he felt.  The same woman that had no food to feed her kids, so I opened my freezer to share what I had.  The same woman who didn't have the money for her medications so I opened my wallet and paid for it...  The same woman I would give my life for if necessary, if in doubt, go back to the beginning of this paragraph.

I'd like to know what happened to humanity.  I'd like to know what happened to friendship.  I'd like to know what happened to trust, compassion and love for the innocent.


Just feeling like a missing puzzle piece, that doesn't quite fit in anywhere.  Are Dayton and I truly alone?  Is it really just Dayton and I against the world?  Is his dad right when he tells me I shouldn't get close to people and that I care too much, to stop being a pushover?

I don't like having my last feeling hurt, and I don't want to turn my heart into stone just to be able to survive, but maybe that's exactly what I need to be doing in order to protect my son and I.  Maybe I need to stop caring about what others need and how I can help, and just take care of my own.  

Are all people like this?  Did I miss a lesson in school where they taught us about how to discern lies from the truth?  I feel like maybe I need the same pictures I use to teach Dayton facial expressions...  you know, happy, sad, angry, tired, bored...  Or maybe I just need to hook people up to a lie detector every time I feel the urge to make a new friend.  Maybe I just need to stay at home and become a hermit.  Life would be so much simpler that way...  but also rather boring.  I don't think I could live like that.

So, I think I need to rid myself of all neurotypical thinking people.  I don't want to be all alone in the world, and I crave human companionship.  So, I think I'll stick to my own kind.  Get to know other autism parents and just hang with them.  I'm tired of explaining autism. I'm tired of constantly being on guard.  I'm tired of being on alert all the time.  I just want to sit back and relax, knowing that the people I'm with 'understand' without having to explain a darn thing.

I'm finding the more I understand my son and the way he thinks, 'normal' people make less and less sense to me.  I'm not kidding.  For example, this woman's fifteen year old daughter is quite comfortable swearing her head off at me...  and I'm thinkin' when I was that age, if I even thought some of the words she text me, my dad would take off his belt, and beat the profanity out of me.  There's no way I'd ever get away talking to an adult that way.  Times have changed...  Given the option of having a child with a cognitive disability or having a 'neurotypical,' self centred, egotistical, disrespectful, unappreciative jack ass, I don't think it would be difficult for me to make the choice to choose Dayton all over again.

I will never look back at life with what if's (what if I actually had a choice), because any path or choice that didn't include Dayton would have left my life pointless.  He is the joy of my life, the missing piece of the puzzle to my heart, my reason for living.  He is my son, and I love him with all my heart and soul.  I just have to keep remembering that God gives these special children only to capable parents, to the ones who have a huge heart, and are trusted to love God's special little angels.



Thanks for listening to me vent.  Considering myself hugged,

Lou

Stalker, Run Mamma!!!

Poor Dayton...  He had a smidgen of a meltdown at the mall... 

We had just crossed the parking lot and were making our way to the front entrance of the mall, when Dayton started to panic...  "Mamma, someones following us!" 
"It's all right babe, mamma's here, she won't let anything happen to you."
"But mamma, he's right behind us!"
"Dayton, it's all right..."
"Mamma!!!"

Dayton looked so scared...  I didn't want to scare him further, so I pulled him aside and stopped.  The man behind us passed, and held the entrance door open for us. 

"See buddy, it's OK." 
He wouldn't move. 
Awkward...
"He's weird lookin."

Oh no...  While I may see his comment as call it like you see it innocence (yes, he's almost ten years old, but he's delayed emotionally at about a five to six year old level), most strangers just consider it down right rude.  Or they think he's a spoiled brat and I don't discipline him.  This man was no exception.  I got the 'smirk,' and the spin on his heel and the door shut in my face.  Just as well...  Dayton was finally able to proceed through the door and enter the mall.

"There's that man again mamma!  Why is his hair so long?  Why does he wear those chains?  Why is his hair all different colors?  He's weird..."

Oh my goodness...  I steer Dayton in a different direction.  While we've learned not to point out the obvious, Dayton still hasn't mastered this skill either.  I sure hope he does, and soon...



Consider yourselves hugged,


Lou

Outcast Parent

I remember a time when I was just a mom without any worries about autism. That time was before Dayton was diagnosed, when life felt normal, like everyone else's life. I figured Dayton would make friends, be a typical  teenager, go to college or university, get a job, get married, have kids of his own (I wanted 5 grand babies) and live life to the fullest, be a contributing member of society, and most importantly, be happy and successful.

I remember what my life felt like before the diagnosis.  Why didn't I appreciate it more? Instead I worried about stupid things like finding the the best quality baby food, debating whether I should just make my own.  My worries are so much greater now. Will Dayton make genuine friends, friends that care about him?  Will he get married? Will he be able to hold down a job? Will he have the five grand babies I've dreamed about?  Will he be independent? Will he have the means to take care of his family?  Will he be able to function without my support?  On "bad days," there seems to be one thought running through my head...  I know what needs to happen.  I just can't die.  It's just not an option. Who else would take care of my babe?

I want that carefree feeling I had before the diagnosis. I'm thinking we both do, so I take my babe to the park!!!  The park is literally in my back yard.  I make a deal with myself that I will bring my camping chair and a book that has nothing to do with autism and read while he plays, you know, like the rest of them parent folk do.  I will not sit there and assess Dayton's behavior and wonder how and when to "jump in" and intervene. I will foster his independence by trusting he will take care and remember the rules.  I will talk with the other moms and join in their conversations. I will not let autism dominate my thoughts and I will relax and enjoy the company of moms my own age.  "Hoooooo Raaaa!!!"

Before we head out the door, we must go over the rules:

“No touching anyone, keep your hands to yourself”
“No screaming”
“Find mom if you need help” etc.
I ask Dayton to repeat the rules back to me and check for understanding.

I grab my Kindle and chair and Dayton races ahead of me to the play structure. I take a big breath and think of how relaxing this outing will be. As I approach the play structure, a friendly woman says "hello."
“Hi” I introduce myself and point to Dayton "that one over there is Dayton."
“Dayton, yes of course. It’s nice to meet you.”
Dayton, yes of course... What does she mean by that? Does she know him? Does she know about his diagnosis?
“Stop it!” I tell myself as I unfold my chair. “Stop it right now!”
Two other women are seated on the super uncomfortable bench.  They both turn and smile at me.
“We were just talking about St. Malo” a mom tells me. “Have you been there?”
“Oh yes, I love camping there, so much fun for the kids."
“That's right” she beams. “The kids go off on their own for hours while the adults hang out at the camp site. It's such a relaxing day."  I'm thinking wow!  Their kids might go off for hours and come back, but I'd probably never see mine again. I stamp the thought out of my mind and turn back to the conversation.

“And if you add a little more seasoning and put it back in the oven for another 30 minutes, it will be the best pot roast you've ever tasted” one of the women says.
Pot roast! They have time to make pot roast on a week day?  Am I the worst mother ever?
I listen in amazement as the women around the table share their recipe secrets. By the time I've finished prodding my son to do simple tasks all day long, I can barely remember my name I'm so tired. Cooking a pot roast would not be on my list of things to do.

With nothing to add about pot roasts, I turn towards the play structure to see how my babe is making out. Sitting at the end of the slide happily arranging his pokemon cards, he appears completely oblivious that every other child is playing tag. I resist the urge to go over and prompt him to participate.
“Focus” I tell myself. “It's time to relax.”

The conversation has turned to homework. Now here's something I can talk about! “Can you believe how much homework they get?” one of the mothers says.
“I know!” I chime in.
“I'm thrilled about it” says the short one. “It keeps him off his video games and gives me time to make dinner.”
“That's true” adds the third one. “I use the time to do laundry. Every now and then Stuart has a question but for the most part, he does his work on his own.”

I'm frozen in shock! What? Did they just say they use this time for themselves? Did I hear that correctly? My mind drifts to our homework sessions. Armed with motivators and lots of patience, I coerce my babe to complete his homework every day. After an hour of prompting, presenting questions in different ways, silly diagrams and theatrics to keep Dayton interested, homework is finally done. He races off to his video games while I stare vacantly into space, too exhausted and emotionally drained to move for the next five minutes.
I snap out of my trance and smile. The women are chattering about their children asking for cell phones and wanting Facebook accounts. But I can't relate to any of it and I'm bored. It's as if I’ve been dropped here from a distant land, with a culture so foreign that we might as well be speaking a different language.  Think it's time to go.  I announce to Dayton he has 10 minutes left to play.  Then 8, then 5, then 3, then 1 minute left.  I'm sure the women behind me think I'm nuts.

While I'm saying my goodbyes, Dayton begins to stim and flaps his hands while doing a little jig. I think it was the first mom that spoke to me that stared at Dayton incredulously, and not being able to resist, she glances at one of her friends as in “Are you seeing this weird behavior?” Part of me tries not to think of their conversation when I leave and the other part of me doesn't care.

Walking home, I ask my babe if he had a good time.
“Great” he says. Looking at his delighted face my heart feels like it might just burst. In his pure innocence and naivete, it never occurs to him that people might judge or gossip about him. Why would it? He accepts and commends others just as they are. The world might think he should change his ways but my son doesn't care. He's not out to impress. People spend a lot of money on workshops trying to develop that kind of self confidence.

With a smile on my face I hold his hand. It's true, sometimes I long for my fantasy world where I have time to cook pot roasts and relax in a park while my son plays with his peers. I don't have that luxury but my son has enriched my life in so many ways. With a new perspective I have developed a compassion and respect for people with differences that wasn't present before. There was a time when I looked upon people with challenges in pity. Now I desire to know them and discover their depth within. Now I strive to make a positive difference in other people's lives. My son has made me a better person. It has come with a price and plenty rewards but I am grateful because I wouldn't want it any other way.

As my dad always says, consider yourselves hugged,

Lou