A Hard Day

My post on Facebook today:

I try not to post too often about how hard things can be, but could you please pray for us? I don't know if it's the weather or what, but the last week or so has been terribly hard here at Four Maples. I actually cried during our first lesson today from sheer exhaustion and frustration. It feels almost impossible to complete simple lessons without a meltdown happening, or total inattentiveness, or forgetting a task right after it's been explained. Anything without pictures is totally unlearnable. My words have little/no meaning, because the ability to comprehend them isn't there.

It feels like I'm writing instructions on a chalk board, and when I turn to the student to explain it the words magically erase. So I write it again, turn to the student, and it's gone again. Over and over and over. And there isn't even the small comfort of a child's ability to communicate what is making things so hard to understand, or even eye contact or body language to give a little hope that anyone is even mentally present with me. Nothing.

I love my job. I love my kids. I love homeschooling. I love that we can work at the pace and in the environment that my daughter needs to learn best. But today I am weary. And I just wanted to share that in honesty, because everyone has hard days at their work and no one always handles those days perfectly. And today of all days I'm grateful for the promise and reality of a God who is a closer friend and Father than even the best of friends here on earth, who walks alongside us in this broken world, and comforts us in rock solid love.

"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith - that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God." - Ephesians 3:14-19

Having "The Talk" with my daughter

World Autism Awareness Day is coming to a close, and after three years of having the diagnosis I finally had "the talk" with my daughter, telling her she was on the autism spectrum.

I had been sort of dreading the conversation, wondering when it would be best for her to officially know. Mostly because I didn't want her to feel a sense of negativity or over-identification with a particular part of herself that could be seen as limiting or stigmatizing. 

But mostly I was just afraid I'd screw it all up. 

It seemed like such a huge conversation to have with her - so many long term ramifications, possibly even sadness or anger, or confusion. We have talked with her (and her brother in his moments of frustration) about certain issues - how change is harder for her, that she can't tell when someone is getting irritated with her if they don't say so, that sounds, loud and crowded places, and food textures that bother her have to do with how her brain makes them seem louder/painful/sickening to her. But to actually say to her, "You have autism," was not something I was sure she was ready to understand, or something I was ready to say.

So today, the opportunity presented itself over breakfast while I was looking online at some autism awareness pins. G-bug and Truth noticed what I was doing and they asked me what those puzzle pins were on my computer. So we talked about what a diagnosis is, and gave some examples like how we all have allergies and get sneezy in the spring, and that I sleep with a machine at night because of my sleep apnea (you're welcome for that little tidbit of TMI). Because the doctor knows that I stop breathing at night, they can give me a machine that helps me sleep and my body work better.

We talked about how each person is created unique, and with special strengths and weaknesses. And then we talked about autism, that it means that a person's brain might work a little differently than some other people. It makes being flexible and handling change difficult. It might make people's senses go haywire. It might make it hard to understand what other people are thinking and feeling, and how to make friends in some cases. But people on the spectrum can also be really good at things, like photographic memory, or remembering whole narratives or songs without really trying (G-bug was listening intently while I was talking, with no eye contact of course.)

Then we talked about some of our favorite people who are on the autism spectrum, and how some things are hard for them but they are also really good at other things because of their unique brain.

Then I tentatively told Gracie that she is also someone with this condition. I almost cringed anticipating her response.

Without missing a beat, she said matter of factly, "Yeah, I know."

Me: "Really? How did you know?"

G-bug: "You know, because of my legs and how my body feels sometimes."

Me: "And how some things are hard for you?"

G-bug: "Yeah."

Me: "But it's also why you are so good at remembering things you see, and songs you listen to - there's a lot of good and some hard stuff too. God made each of us in His image, special and unique."

G-bug: "Yeah. And can I have two cat vitamins now?"

And that was it.

I don't know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn't it. She already knew?

As the day progressed, I assumed she had forgotten all about our conversation - nothing was said, and nothing indicated that she gave a second thought to our talk... until later that afternoon while playing Mario Kart at a friend's house. Out of the blue, she asked me to remind our friends that today was World Autism Awareness Day, because she had it, and that it meant that her brain worked differently, and made some things hard for her, but made her really good at other things. And then she promptly went back to her game of Mario Kart.

That's G-bug. Deep conversations like sound bytes in the most surprising moments. And then it's gone.

Now I'm no fool. I know this is the first conversation of many more to come. But the conversation has begun, and instead of dancing around the large puzzle-piece-patterned elephant in the room we are facing it together with honesty and solidarity. I have no idea how being on the autism spectrum will continue to affect her into adolescence, into her teens, into adulthood, into marriage and parenting if that is part of her future. But I know that I'm so glad that I'm her mom, and I'm ready to walk with her through each of those seasons and have as many hard/encouraging/scary/wonderful conversations as she needs to have. And I'm already praying for the ability to do it.

So light it up blue today. For G-bug, for her friends like Jack, and for so many others affected by and living (emphasis on LIVE) with autism.

G-bug snuggles are The. Best.