"Start by doing what's necessary, then do what's possible and
suddenly you are doing the impossible." ~ Saint Francis of Assisi EVERYBODY HAS A teacher. My teacher appeared out of nowhere, a lightning bolt out of the blue. Structured and rigid, demanding my attention every minute of the day, a roller-coaster ride into an unknown confusing world of silence. Emotions expressed through screaming and kicking, bolting and biting, climbing and jumping. All without fear. All without boundaries. All without reason why. I had to relearn how to speak, how to see, how to anticipate the next moment. Autism is my teacher. You are not allowed to fail. There is always a lesson before you. Your only escape is ignorance; choose to ignore its existence (although you'll find this impossible). It's like gum on your shoe, sticking to whatever it touches. Every time you try to wipe it off, it clings to something else. It never goes away. The lessons are hard and true; unconditional love, acceptance, living in the moment, simplicity. These are the teachings of autism. It tries the depths of your strength when your energy is beyond depletion. You will know the joy of the smallest miracle and the horror of its ways to wear you down. It keeps you guessing how to reach the child held prisoner in the silent world ruled by autism. You learn about restructuring time, the language of occupational and speech therapies, the language of Special Needs education and its federal laws. You learn about the brain and how it responds to diet, vitamin support and alternative therapies. You learn about the endless attempts to attain just one goal and the costs that go hand in hand with it. You learn autism is not accepted by all. You learn you cannot go everywhere and do everything. You cannot console the screams, only try to discern between a cry for help and a cry of pain. You are in demand and autism is in command, twenty-four hours a day, every day. You learn to watch your child like a hawk and guard him with your life; how to sleep with one eye open and how to sense when he is sick. You keep track of his eating and bathroom habits and pray he will have a bowel movement on his own so you don't have to tackle and struggle with him to insert an enema. You pray you don't forget to check the b.m. calendar or forget the last time you gave him medication. You learn there are few people that are able to take watch over you child. You learn to live with limited sleep, limited time, limited activities, limited life. No vacation, no sick days, no pay. Your reward comes in those small miracle moments, when one word is spoken or your child's eyes look directly into yours. You know for a few seconds that he is present in your world. It is a school like no other. The life long learning hands-on experience of autism. So, you do what's necessary, with high expectations of what is possible. WHO is your teacher? Originally published in capewomenonline, Summer Issue 2008
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