A fleeting moment of clarity

Those fleeting moments of clarity... I look forward to them with a longing that isn't comparable to anything else that I have ever felt.

I'm not coping very well. I've always had a problem dealing with stress. My eating is out of control. Life seems to be falling apart for everyone I touch. ...but then comes that moment where everything seems to make sense and I am at perfect peace. That one blissfull moment when it seems like I can step outside of my life and look at things objectively.

I am learning patience.

"Do you know what Abra can do, Mom?" I smile and feign ignorance. It is 11 am and at least 50 Pokemon questions have punctated my son's silence this morning. "Of course I know what Abra can do. He can do the same thing that he could do when you told me yesterday" I think with a smile. Instead I try my best to muster some genuine interest and hear all about it again.

I am learning patience.

He got a Pokemon game for Christmas. It is his current perserveration. He would play it 24/7 right now if I let him. In the past few days he has been so focused that he has wet himself twice. I tried taking it away yesterday and he started hitting himself repeatedly above the ears while he tantrummed.

I am learning patience.

I look at him laying there so focused on that little screen that a freight train could rip through the room and he wouldn't notice. Clarity and self-reflection washed over me like the gentle ebbing of the tide.

This is how I am to God. Hyper-focused on my own life that I can't see what is going on around me. Hurting myself forkful by forkful when someone takes away what comforts me. I am a spiritual Aspie.

Would I change things? In the beginning I cried and begged God to take this away... to make him "better". Better than what? Do I somehow love him less than my neurotypical son? Of course not...

Who was I crying for? My son... or my own discomfort? Alex doesn't really care that he has Asperger's Syndrome. He is simply thrilled that he has a new video game to obsess over. From his perspective this is just the way life is.

I was crying for me. I was mourning the dreams and hopes that I clung to of a future for him that now seemed impossible, but they were never his dreams. I was crying in frustration that I would have to endure more disaproving nods and clucking tongues of strangers in grocery stores when my 8 year old lays in the floor and screams "I hate you". I was crying in selfishness at the thought that he may never live independently of me.

I was taking solace in the title of "martyr mom" and was comforted by the whispered "you poor thing" and the pity that I didn't deserve, but secretly felt like I needed.

...but most of all I was learning patience the hard way.

The silence is broken once again by another obsessive diatribe about the videogame. I can't help but smile again.

God isn't punishing me by giving me a son on the Autistic Spectrum. This isn't even about me. God has entrusted me with the care of a child who is very special (some days I jokingly wonder if he even lives on the same planet). If He thinks that I can handle it, who am I to argue?

And there the clarity goes, like sands torn away by the waves... and I muddle through my life again.

Is it possible to love the autistic spectrum?

I've been mulling over this a bit in my head lately and I can't seem to articulate this idea very well yet. I'm quite sure that this line of thinking might upset some people and I'm not sure if I would feel differently if my son had Kanner's instead of Asperger's.

As far as I have been able to tell there is little hope for an actual cure for kids like my son. I have to accept that this is who he is and who he will most likely be for the rest of his life. For some reason, I'm starting to think that I am ok with that.

Inspite of all of the difficulties Aperger's Syndrome causes him, I love who he is. Would he be the same person if he was not on the spectrum?... probably not.

I can't love him and hate such a large part of who he is.