Autism & Guilt

Finian's anxiety is peaking.

He demands more hugs.  Less sleep.  More attention.  More meltdowns.  More body tapping.  More stimming.  More pacing.  More reciting obsessive lists.  More hours spent sitting with him as he howls instead of washing my hair, or brushing my teeth.  More anxiety-laced, repetitive questions.  More echolalia.

I'm fairly certain it's linked to his upcoming transition into adult services.  He says he's happy about it, but we know that autism and change don't make a happy marriage.

We've had a great summer.  He's been living his best life.  Sleeping in.  No demands.  Day trips.  Walks.  Uninterrupted access to me for reassurance and cuddles.  All the good stuff.

I'm the constant touchstone he can rely on to be reassuringly present, no matter what else is going on in his world.  With neurotypical kids, this reliance is gradually replaced with growing autonomy and self-reliance.  This isn't how it goes with our autistic kids.

It has become an impossibly complicated dance to try to foster his independence while helping him to feel secure in a world not designed for him.  

Guilt is unavoidable, so I own it instead of denying it.  

I'm ingraining his dependence on me by being his safe place.  This is not ideal, but he is more vulnerable than most.  I'm also provoking his anxiety by pushing him away from me into adult services and respite;  he is a young man and I won't be around forever.

Guilt is guaranteed either way, but I accept this and oddly don't feel bad about it.  It seems to be part of the special needs deal.

Before Finian, I had a negative, polarised view of guilt.  I believed it was a nasty hangover from a catholic childhood that needed to be peeled off  like an ugly scab.

Now I see guilt as something more nuanced; something softer than good-or-bad, that I can carry fairly easily.  It is an unavoidable consequence of special-needs parenting.  It seems wiser to make friends with it than to cram it into my unconscious (where it could manifest as unhelpful illnesses, addictions or general lunacies). 

I am eternally grateful to Finian for teaching me the complex layers of emotions we tend to shy away from.  

That said, I'll be glad to discard my unwashed, homeless look, and get back to seeing my clients next month.  The bin-girl vibe is not my jam.