My youngest was recently diagnosed with Aspergers on the Autism spectrum. A mild form, the doctor said. Some days, it's hard to discern that there is anything unusual about my child--then the anxiety disorder rears its ugly threatening head. Those are the times I think, "Mild?!?"
Just two nights before:
- He went to sleep without a hitch.
- He was caught up in his work after the last bout of anxiety (yes, I caved, I let him stay home--I was so tired and battle fatigued--do we really have to do this EVERY day?)
- He was starting to understand his math (which he hates).
- He read (which he hates)--without prodding (and, he read two books). He wasn't reading to anyone, just himself. And, he sounded great. It felt like it was starting to click.
Then last night:
- He refused to eat anything for supper--even cereal (his usual stand in).
- Then he refused to eat breakfast.
- Then he adamantly objected to me sending lunch with him. (Here, I might add, the teachers notice that he hasn't been eating his lunch. Therefore, I put in the lunch the very few items that I knew he would at least consider eating if he were hungry enough.
This morning: Some force attacked the nerves of my child which caused him to panic.
Hope was obliterated! "Ugh! Really? Why?" was all I could think as I endured one and a half hours of screaming and me fighting.
Fighting to get him dressed.
Fighting to brush his teeth.
Fighting and failing to get him to eat something.
Fighting to get him in the car.
Fighting to keep my temper in check and just push through with apparent calm and patient demeanor.😣
He was screaming that he was afraid. He didn't want to go to school. I asked him what he was afraid of--he couldn't answer any specific thing.
I kept telling myself, you are almost there. I usually take my oldest to University then proceed on to work. I always arrive an hour early and spend some time reading, writing, or staring into blessed nothingness.
I couldn't wait for that hour of total silence. Nothing demanding attention. Doesn't that just sound like a little piece of heaven? Yes, of course it does. But, when I get there, I can't find my keys. 😒
I have no way to get into my temporary sanctuary before work--or work. No one is going to be there for another hour.
I start to panic. It must be catchy!
I knew I had my keys in my hands that morning. I had put them in my pocket. But, between dropping off my screaming cargo, running to drop of a prescription, etc, I couldn't remember seeing them.
Well, I couldn't sit in the car for an hour waiting for work to come to me. I had to find those keys. I dumped out my bag and looked in every nook and cranny. But, all I found was more panic.
I had to retrace my steps. What if I had dropped them in the parking lot of the store? What if I had dropped them in the store? What if I had, somehow, dropped them in the yard as I hurriedly drove away? The questions haunted.
I raced home. Dashed around the house. Looked high and low quickly. I dashed to the store. Asked 3 different people if keys had been turned in. I called mom because I had dropped the four legged child off there for the day (he had been showing signs of anxiety as well). No one had seen my keys.
By this time, I had to be at work in 10 minutes (it's a 15 minute drive). So, I prayed as I drove. I told our Heavenly Father that I need help. I couldn't take it any more. I was at my wits end. I was ready to throw in the towel.
I questioned why. Why do my children have to struggle so? Why can't things go smoothly more often? Why wouldn't He just make them better?
Then, I got stopped by the train! 😒
I pulled into work and received a text from my boss just as I turned off the engine.
Then the work day began . . .
Fast forward to this evening:
When I left for work, I called my husband to see if I needed to pick up anyone that may have been stranded due to unforeseen circumstances. Everyone was home and things seemed to be running smooth. I then told him, $5 to whomever finds my work keys. I was desperate.
By the time I got home, everyone had eaten, the kitchen was clean, and all was calm and peaceful. The 13-year-old had FOUND MY KEYS! . . . On my bed. Under my blankets. Ugh! I knew I should have made my bed. But, my point is this. After my keys and I were reunited, I was able to relax. I decided to color and find my center--so to speak.
In the process of reflecting on the day and catching up with my children I discovered some very important things. There are successes! Some might even call them miracles.
My oldest, who also bears burden of ASD, gave a speech--on the fly--and earned a near perfect score. Some of his classmates said that they would never had known about the Autism, if he hadn't told them. They were all encouraging in their remarks, uplifting. He is thriving in college. I am so proud of him.
My oldest and third (who usually fight like cats and dogs) were communicating, civilly, like humans. It was a sight to behold. THIS is a miracle.
My youngest, is improving academically. Not as fast as I or his teachers would like; however, at this point his struggles are so real that the fact that he wanted to read to no one in particular--just for the utter enjoyment-- is amazing!
Peace and Hope restored. . . . At least, for the moment.
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