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Why I Can’t Hate Autism: A Mother’s Journey

Why I Can’t Hate Autism: A Mother’s Journey

I can’t say “I hate autism” anymore.

I haven’t said it much, but I have.

There are moments when I desperately want to be angry at autism—during a colossal public meltdown, the relentless screaming in the car, when things get broken at home, or worse, when my son can’t cope and it seems like something else has a hold on him and won’t let go.

I want to be angry at something.

I want to blame this invisible force that seems to inhabit our lives and shadow us everywhere. There are many parents and individuals in this situation that do. I understand them. The need to channel the anger and frustration somewhere. I don’t judge them at all. This is just a choice I needed to make.

It’s just a word. A label.

An all-encompassing explanation for millions of individuals who might need it to access resources or better understand themselves. No two of these remarkable individuals are the same; they just share one or many things in common—they are autistic.

Before the diagnosis, when I first heard the possibility of autism in reference to my son, I saw it as something to avoid, something to flee from. I wanted it away from him. Whenever he exhibited a sign, I would panic. I hated looking back and recognizing signs that I or the doctors had missed.

I often write about acceptance.

It’s an ongoing journey never fully reached. You fall backwards all the time in this life. The moments that I do find a bit of it, and the progress I have made, have been transformative.

One of the most the important steps I took was realizing that I can’t separate autism from my son.

If the things he does and the way he develops are defined under autism, then I can’t declare I hate it—it is part of him.

It’s intertwined in everything he does:

the silly things, the sweet things, and all of the challenging things.

It’s how he sees the world. How he interacts with everyone and everything.

When my son has one of those really tough days, after a harrowing meltdown where I’m left feeling shattered, I can’t just blame this burden, this “thing” called autism.

Because in front of me, there is also a little boy struggling, trying, and equally broken by the moment.

It wasn’t autism who had that moment—it was him.

One of the people I love more than anything in the world. The person who needs me most in the world.

I can’t hate that because, to me, it is part of him. There is no cure. It’s not going away. I can only help him navigate through it. I can only be there and try to guide him.

Being angry at autism was not the answer for me.

Accepting that my son has these trials, that my son needs more, that my son has difficult and beautiful moments, has brought me a small sense of peace.
Written by Jaime Ramos of Jaime Ramos Writes

The post Why I Can’t Hate Autism: A Mother’s Journey appeared first on Finding Cooper's Voice | Welcome to the Secret World of Autism.

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