Today, I didn’t know what to say. After all, we’ve covered a lot of territory in the past months.
So I surfed around, reading articles and thinking about autism. I picked through my cluttery mind about recent happenings. It took some time. My mind is very cluttery.
Nothing. Nada. Zip.
And then it struck me that part of dealing with autistic family members is about those who don’t have autism. Part of the story is from the parents’ point of view.
Now that I know something about. In spades.
However, it’s hard to talk about. It’s difficult sometimes to face the roiling mass of fear and worry. Always, I’d rather pretend it didn’t exist and that things will be okay.
And I firmly believe they will be okay.
The school years are hard ones. Everyone and anyone with Asperger’s knows this. Dealing with peers and groups and teachers… it hits all of the challenge points, and doesn’t allow the strengths to shine as they should.
I know this. And yet, sometimes that knot in my gut disagrees. It whispers to me at night about fear and worry. It tries to convince me that I should have done a better job, should have known more, should have done things differently.
If it whined any more at me, I’d have to feed it dog food and take it out for walks in the morning.
But that’s just part of being a parent. Our worries and fears keep us on task and prevent little things from slipping away. If I didn’t worry, I’d just laugh everything off and my son would suffer every time something serious came along.
Isn’t it glorious, though, when a good moment comes along?
Maybe, if we didn’t worry so much, we’d miss those golden moments. That would be truly sad. I’d hate to just expect our son to succeed in everything, and remain unmoved when it happened.
So I’ll keep my knot of fear and worry – maybe I’ll even name it something silly, like George – and watch it fray away, little by little, every year. Already, it’s significantly smaller than it was. Already, its whine is softer and less demanding.
Maybe, one day, it won’t be there at all.