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second son
Oct. 11th, 2002 07:31 pmI can't think about it without feeling guilt.
I can't tell you how much it hurts me to think about him.
I can't tell you how painful it is to consider all the future ramification of his disorder.
I'm supposed to feel grateful and happy that he's not mentally retarded, not physically handicapped, not epileptic, and not dying. I can't though, I know I'm grateful that things are not worse but sometimes I think it would be easier to accept his disorder if he were more obviously affected.
To look at him, listen to him and be with him is so teasing; his charm and mystery and affection suggests so many possibilities for breakthrough... but all parents of autists feel that way. It's the Damocles sword of Autism: hanging over you so much that you pretend to yourself its never goign to fall, it's an illusion, it's made of rubber and can't really hurt you. But that sword is there, it is really sharp and it does threaten you every moment of every day. I have to accept that he's never goign to be like other kids. He may never go to college, get married, have kids, pursue a career that changes the world. Hell if I just thought he was going to be owning his own home someday I'd breathe easier.
And the world accepts him less with each passing year as well. By the time he's 18 all he can look forward to is more misunderstanding than ever.
And he has no "savant" either. He loves many things and he is determined to pursue his interests but he displays no exceptional talent in anything.
What will happen when he hits puberty?
I could never send my son away.... yet sometimes I think sending him to a special school may be the best thing for him... people who are qualified to help him learn to move around in this world.... helping him every hour of the day, instead of just when they have time or energy.
Why do I drag my feet in doing more for him? Sometimes I think it is because I'm near to giving up.... he will never be "normal" and just typing that hurts me. Reading it hurts me. Remembering it hurts me and I'm not sure how many more years of hurting from this knowledge I can take. How many more years can HE take? He's already angry and frustrated...
I can't explain how much this upsets me... and that's why I try not to think about the totality of it at all. Just sometimes when it hits me....
I can't tell you how much it hurts me to think about him.
I can't tell you how painful it is to consider all the future ramification of his disorder.
I'm supposed to feel grateful and happy that he's not mentally retarded, not physically handicapped, not epileptic, and not dying. I can't though, I know I'm grateful that things are not worse but sometimes I think it would be easier to accept his disorder if he were more obviously affected.
To look at him, listen to him and be with him is so teasing; his charm and mystery and affection suggests so many possibilities for breakthrough... but all parents of autists feel that way. It's the Damocles sword of Autism: hanging over you so much that you pretend to yourself its never goign to fall, it's an illusion, it's made of rubber and can't really hurt you. But that sword is there, it is really sharp and it does threaten you every moment of every day. I have to accept that he's never goign to be like other kids. He may never go to college, get married, have kids, pursue a career that changes the world. Hell if I just thought he was going to be owning his own home someday I'd breathe easier.
And the world accepts him less with each passing year as well. By the time he's 18 all he can look forward to is more misunderstanding than ever.
And he has no "savant" either. He loves many things and he is determined to pursue his interests but he displays no exceptional talent in anything.
What will happen when he hits puberty?
I could never send my son away.... yet sometimes I think sending him to a special school may be the best thing for him... people who are qualified to help him learn to move around in this world.... helping him every hour of the day, instead of just when they have time or energy.
Why do I drag my feet in doing more for him? Sometimes I think it is because I'm near to giving up.... he will never be "normal" and just typing that hurts me. Reading it hurts me. Remembering it hurts me and I'm not sure how many more years of hurting from this knowledge I can take. How many more years can HE take? He's already angry and frustrated...
I can't explain how much this upsets me... and that's why I try not to think about the totality of it at all. Just sometimes when it hits me....
