Autism & Psychiatry

This morning my husband and I took Finian to see a psychiatrist.

His increase in self-harm and decrease in sleep lead us to our GP, which lead us to a CAMHS (child and adolescent mental health services) appointment.

The meeting was positive.  Our consultant was warm and attentive.  We decided to avoid medication for the moment and to bring his case to a multidisciplinary team (speech therapist, occupational therapist, psychologist, social worker etc) to decide the the best path forward for him.  

Afterwards, I had one of those moments of scalding clarity where I thought "oh my God, I just took my son to see a psychiatrist".  No matter how cosy I get with Autism, it never fails to blindside me with random sucker punches.  Finian doesn't deserve this.   As a rule, I don't dwell on the unfairness of how difficult his life is because of Autism.  Sometimes, though, I get (temporarily) floored by a sneaky stab of heartbreak.  I wonder if bored gods are playing cosmic chess games, using people as playthings.  Or if a careless Mother Nature stirred up his DNA for shits and giggles.  The injustice of it is hard to take sometimes.

Finian has just started his final year of school. Meeting with the psychiatrist was the first of many steps we need to take to plan the best adult services possible for him.

We are facing into months of cognitive assessments, meetings with his school, meetings with potential adult placements, and negotiations with his social worker.  This is flavoured with anticipation of attempts by service providers to play geographical ping-pong with him, as they are gearing up to bounce him from one jurisdiction to another.  It won't be an easy year.

What I'm not going to do, though, is allow bureaucratic fuckery dim the joy that Finian brings into our lives.  The delightful energy that he fills our world with will not be exhausted by officious wranglings.  It would be easy to buckle under the weight of the year ahead of us.  Focusing on, and celebrating, his defiant sense of fun will keep the energy-sapping stuff in the background where it belongs.

6ft 2 and loving Peppa Pig, coz fuck you