As I huddled in bed last night, the tears came again soaking
my pillow. I thought I had run all out, but that's the thing with tears --
there are always more. As I put my son to bed last night, he dragged his feet
muttering, "This was the worst day ever and tomorrow will probably be just
bad." Always the reassuring, positive mother, I told him it was not the
worst day ever and today would be better.
But in retrospect, it was pretty darn bad. He woke up
"off" -- more anxious than usual and without explanation. Before
school, we cuddled and I reassured him it would be a good day. Less than three
hours later, he was on the phone from school, asking to come home. I asked if I
could come to see him and then we would decide. Less than 15 minutes
later, I was at school sitting in the sick room, holding him. (I am glad no one
could see since he is nearly my size now; I'm sure if anyone had seen they
would have wondered, but then again -- what do I care? He's my child and
hugging him tight helps him feel better.) We rocked back and forth and I
reassured him it was going to be ok. The tears came. We talked about his
morning looking for what may have made him feel nervous and then we talked about
the rest of the day, including that two of his favorite activities -- lunch and
art class were coming up. After about 10 minutes, he said he felt better and
would go back to class.
I resumed my activities. I am so blessed I work from home
and can drop everything to run to school when needed. A few hours later, I was
in the parking lot and the minute he came out of school, I knew something was
wrong...again. Apparently, he didn't understand when an assignment was due and
got a late slip. He was so upset with himself and started hitting himself on
the head. Just thinking about that moment now brings tears to my eyes. Seeing
your child inflict injury on himself is the worst thing ever. I quickly tried
to calm him, feeling fortunate he had his stuffed bear Cookie in the car with
him. I told him to hug him tight and everything would be ok (again). When we
got home, he asked quietly to play the iPad and again apologized for being so
"bad." I reassured him that he was not bad. While he de-stressed watching
Pokemon videos, I quickly emailed his resource teacher to tell her we needed
some sort of solution regarding his assignment notebook since my son clearly
has no idea when homework is due and when there are tests. It's part of his IEP
that this is taken care of, but like many things it is easier for schools to
put in writing than to actually do. I also called his therapist to see if
we could get in since self-harm is some thing he hasn't done before and it was
very frightening. Of course, there were no openings and we were added to a
waiting list.
If dealing with school was not enough yesterday, Michael was
also supposed to do his first test as a red black belt on the road to getting
his black belt in taekwondo. I told him to forget about the day and just focus
on the task ahead. He tried his best, but again he was clearly off. He messed
up one of his forms and as he tried for the third and final time to break his
boards, the tears again came. As much as I wanted to help, there was nothing I
could do. I sucked them up, told him he tried his best and he said he just
wanted to go home and watch Pokemon.
As I tucked him into bed last night after a shower and
watching an episode of Pokemon, my little guy looked exhausted. It was only 8
p.m., but I am sure he was asleep in less than 10 minutes. Sometimes, I don't
know what's worse -- the autism that socially isolates him and causes him
to drift off into "Michael World" as he calls it where he finds
it difficult to follow in class or the anxiety, which rears its head for
unknown reasons. Later as I climbed into bed myself, the tears came again --
for him, for me and for the rest of the family who has to witness
his daily struggle
