Can I be brutally honest?
I had a rough day yesterday. I watched Dr.
Phil--which was utterly stupid--and it freaked me out. I'll spare you
the details, but the fourteen-year-old featured was severally autistic and
aggressive. She was horrifically violent. She would beat her mother unconscious.
It was devastating to watch and I cried through the whole show. I cried for the
mother--now in prison--and for the pain and desperation she suffered. I
cried for the hopelessness she felt; a bleakness that smothered her, that led her to unspeakable
actions. I cried for her whole family, and for the fourteen-year-old's siblings who were
frequently hurt by her rage. I cried for this damn disorder--so diverse, so
complex, so mysterious in nature.
And then I crept into Cam's room
while he napped.
I cried for him too--my beautiful, peacefully sleeping
boy. I put my hand on his face and said a silent prayer. I asked God
to make me brave. I asked Him to make me strong--to give me the courage
to face the unknown road that lies ahead. I asked Him to stay with me. To stay by my side, always.
I know that that family is
not my family, and their experience is not my experience. I know we are
different. But I also know that I can't know everything. I don't know
what the future offers us, or what our ASD journey holds. I just know I
have great faith. I know I love my son.
I know that love is