Walk two steps in my shoes…
When you no longer have any more tears left to shed. When you no longer have the strength to breathe. When you no longer have the energy to live. Yet, somehow you continue forward because your children need you. Because you know that failure and giving up is not an option. Because there is no other way but survival. This is what it’s like to be me. My middle son, who is 12 years old, is autistic and diagnosed with mood disorder, which is very similar to oppositional defiance disorder. He is, also, displaying schizophrenia (apparently, this is common for people with autism to develop. I never knew). The word ‘no’ and giving options (even if they are positive choices) is like setting off a bomb. A very nasty bomb. One that causes mass casualties (emotionally and physically). I never know what’s going to set him off. I can assume, but the chances are 50/50.
Yesterday, I made the biggest mistake. Part of his autism & mood disorder is him feeling left out. My oldest son, who is 17 is visiting for the next 3 weeks. I got tickets to the NBA summer championship game for my 3 sons and myself. I knew deep down that this was a horrible idea, but my son with autism begged to go. He didn’t want to be left out. I allowed my guilt to persuade my better judgment. I knew better. I truly knew better.
He did great in the line outside waiting. He was getting impatient, but he hung in there like a trooper. Once inside, he was fine for the first 15 minutes, while we got our drinks. It was straight downhill from there. I was royally embarrassed, drained of all energy both mentally and physically, and I didn’t have the energy to cry. I spent a good portion of the evening apologizing, holding him with my hand over his mouth and holding one of his legs. He was being very unsafe. My oldest and youngest were sitting a level lower than us, since I had to take my son with autism out of that level due to inappropriate behavior. We barely made it to halftime. I really thought security was going to come for us. In fact, deep down, I was hoping that they would. I needed help. My oldest was having fun watching the game with my youngest, so I didn’t want to interrupt his fun. However, as soon as halftime hit, I got his attention and had him help me. I quickly used the restroom, apparently, my oldest had just as much fun as I did dealing with my son with autism. I got him out of the stadium but barely, before all hell broke loose. His behavior was atrocious!!! Las Vegas isn’t exactly known for having super friendly gangsters. Luckily, I don’t back down, especially, when it comes to my children so everyone let his behavior go. (We were fortunate, because my son really did some stuff that would have caused an adult person to get their ass beat up, if they did it.)
Anyway, we spent the rest of the game outside in my van. But that wasn’t before we had encounters with more people on our way out and in the parking lot. The last woman, who was maybe late 20’s, wearing heels and a short dress (She looked like a knock-out), we encountered was stupid understanding. I was on the verge of tears, but didn’t have the strength to cry. I just apologized to her over and over again. She kept telling me that it was okay. Even as she walked halfway across the parking lot, she looked back and saw a distressed me. She yelled back, “It’s okay. I promise!” Even now, I want to cry. Her kindness meant a lot, especially in that very moment.
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Being a parent of a special needs child and a parent of children, who are not special needs, is very challenging. My three sons already have an age gap (7, 12, and 17). It is hard enough to find something that is appropriate and fun for all of them. Hell, food alone is challenging. Throwing special needs into the mix, especially, autism & mood disorder, is like trying to herd cats during a tornado!
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Apparently, having a mental illness means you have to have something ‘wrong’ with your appearance. I guess three noses, five eyes? I’m not sure. Something. My son with autism acts up and everyone automatically thinks I am the world’s shitties parent. Judgment. This is what I go through daily. Every time we go out. I am being judged because of my child and his condition. I knew they say to not let others’ judgments get to you, but it is hard, when their eyes pierce through you. I’m not a bad mother. I know I’m not, but their stares make me feel like one. His actions in public make me feel like one. I can’t control it. I can only extinguish the situation from the public by removing him from around them. This doesn’t stop the ‘situation’. It just stops the situation from involving strangers as casualties. I still have to survive the situation.
The next time you are out and about & see a child having a complete meltdown. Do NOT assume that that child is ‘bad’ or that child ‘needs his/her ass beat’. Us, parents of special needs children, CANNOT beat the disability out of our child or give them a magic pill. Stop fucking judging us. If you think you can do a better fucking job, then by all means take a go. Until then shut the fuck up and take you looks elsewhere. I’ve had it. I am doing the best I can. And, that is all I can do!
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(Or any parent going through a rough time with their child/children!!!)
Thanks for letting me vent!
Happy Reading,
S.E.Isaac
