Today I Cried…

Today I cried.. Today was hard..

Usually I am tough. I can take on the world. I am 100% That Warrior. Ready for any battle. But even the most seasoned warrior probably wakes up like “Really? I have to do this again?” Even the most seasoned warrior might question their path and consider settling down in a rinky dink cabin away from any turmoil.

But what happens when what you are sworn to protect is not something you can walk away from? Autism does not take a day off so this warrior mama does not get a break.

Sometimes it gets rough, sometimes I cry.

So what took me down this week? The day started with messages from school that Z was having a bad day, that he was acting up. When I picked him up he was obviously very sensory but kind of in his giggly way. Nothing we haven’t handled before. We got this! Next up for the day? Z’s first OT session at a new clinic. He started having issues in the waiting room (trying to elope, laying on the ground, whining/complaining). Again, nothing we haven’t handled before. We still got this! He meets his therapist and I give her a warning that he is having a hard day. They take off to the sensory room to build rapport and I am sitting there thinking it will do him good and hopefully get the energy out of his system. 20 minutes later she brings him back and tells me it didn’t go well, they didn’t get much accomplished and he had a toilet accident. I’m not shocked about his behavior but seriously? An accident? We’ve been doing so good lately with that! Maybe we don’t got this….

So I work through the whole process of getting him cleaned up. He’s really worked up at this point. But can we go home and shrivel in the corner? Nope. Because this warrior mama accidentally scheduled a speech evaluation on the same day, 30 minutes apart.

After telling the front desk where to find us, I take him to the courtyard and fully believe I can get him calmed down. You see, we’re naively back to the We Got This! stage. I have his iPad, snacks and we are outside. Perfect combo… But today is off, Z is off. He starts getting really worked up. He keeps looking at me and saying “Ready” and pointing towards the car. I try my best to explain the amount of time we have to wait and that he will meet a new “friend” that is going to help him communicate so he can be the boss (our usual tactic). He’s not having it. Friends, we don’t got this…

He starts yelling, bringing the attention of several moms that were probably trying to get some peace and quiet outside and many therapists that are walking to and fro between the offices. Then he just tries to make a run for it to the car. I grab him and he’s just too big and too strong for me (remember, he is my size). So I get him to the ground and he’s not gonna move. I throw my hands in the air and just say “Fine, stay there”. He watches his iPad on the ground, people are staring.. But that’s not enough for him. He finally sits up on the bench again and I celebrate a small win until he starts to throw dirt everywhere from the planter behind us. And then he really starts yelling and hitting his face on the bench. I am doing my best to get him calm but he’s gone. He again tries to take off and again I grab him and get him to the ground where he proceeds to try and hit his head (on concrete btw…).

Finally the speech therapist comes out and says “I think we should reschedule…” Now, it took us a month to get this appointment and I am fighting the clock on insurance deductibles. I give her a scared look because I just can’t wait that long for another appointment. But she knows and I know what will happen. It will be a waste of time and money and not give us a true result. Z is not Z in this moment.

In the end, we were able to figure out an appointment for the same week. I get him to the car, struggling the whole way and sit there thinking “Ok, we got this. He’ll be fine now.” But today is not your average day, nothing is as it should be. Z proceeds to yell, scream, cry and throw things at me while I am driving. I am losing it at this point but have one goal: get him home. We get home and I send him straight to his room to yell it out.

And then I cried…

So what made this battle so hard? What brought this warrior to her knees? I have been thinking that same question ever since.

Obviously, part of it is how physically hard it is becoming to control Z. There is a new anxiety in public when he is in this mood that something awful is going to happen. That I won’t be able to subdue him and stop him from running into the street and getting seriously injured or killed. That he will succeed in banging his head on a hard surface and knocking himself out. That he will take his anger out on someone else (a child or an elderly person). That the police will be called and use “unnecessary force” on him. I carry all of that when we are in public now.

Anybody who has lived with anxiety knows how crippling it can be. It is definitely one of the things that can take down the strongest warrior. It is one of the things that people don’t talk about and don’t treat. At some point, it breaks you.

The other ingredient in this disaster was everyone else. As I said, we were at a therapy clinic that provides OT, Speech and PT services. Everyone working there should be well versed in disabilities and all the parents should have a first hand experience. Seems like the perfect place, right? Well, it may have made it worse if I am being honest.

When Z has meltdowns in public, usually we are surrounded by people who have no idea what is going on. Most people tend to try and “ignore” it. The unknown is scary, they don’t know how they should react so they simply don’t look. But amidst this ignorance, we usually find some gems. The ones who either get it through experience or through simple compassion. They may assist but most of the time it is a simple look. Not a look of pity, but of “I am here with you, I am experiencing this too, you are not alone.”

Being only surrounded by the special needs world created a situation I have just not been in before. I was still ignored by some but in a way that said “I have dealt with all that I can today, your problem is not something I want to add to my plate.” Others poured on the pity because I am sure they have experienced first-hand what I was going through. Some were looking at me like “I am glad that is not me.” A couple seemed upset that I couldn’t control the situation. And those with younger kids (which was just about everyone) were looking at me with fear thinking “that’s what we have to look forward to?”

While trying to control my giant kid and my own emotions, I was being bombarded by all of these looks and feelings. And I felt this ownership in being a mom of an older kid with special needs. That I had to show these parents that I was this seasoned warrior with all of these special weapons in my arsenal. That I would succeed and save the day. That I would give them hope.

But I didn’t. And that made me feel like a failure. Sure, I was glad I didn’t yell at him and lose my marbles in front of everyone. I held it together and talked calmly through his outbursts. It took all my effort but I at least did that. But in the end, we had to reschedule. We were asked to leave. We made a commotion at a place of business. We showed those that were maybe just starting their paths that things could get worse. That their screaming child they were tucking under their arms and carrying out of the place would grow up to be their same size and would overpower them. And maybe some were not ready for that.

So at the end of the day, I cried it out. Shed the tears that build up over time through all of our challenges. Re-centered myself and my expectations and survived to bedtime, ready to take on another day good or bad. Fingers crossed it is good…

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