Sometimes you have to stop fighting

I am a fighter. I do not give up. Somehow, I find strength to persevere even in the toughest circumstances. I cannot remember the last time I gave up. I have often thought of writing a book that chronicles my journey through the depths of wars I never signed up to fight. In fact, I never signed up for a single battle. But somehow I was designated to don the armor and march forward.

I have fought tirelessly for my son. Disabled people are simply the very last people to be considered by those handing out the funds unless it is election season. Many disabled adults are voters, but of course they are after the parents. Anyone who knows a family of a disabled child knows that no one is tougher than a parent of a child or an adult with a disability. Lay low if you make them angry.

I have fought for my other children. When their education and well-being were threatened by those who put making or self-validation over the needs of the children.

I advocated for my father when he was not well. He spent his entire life advocating for the needs of others. He was a man of action. I made sure my mother had all she needed when she was rendered unconscious by a serious pulmonary and cardiac issue.

I have worked to make sure my students were receiving all the academic needs that could be afforded for their learning experience. Strived to make their time under my tutelage was safe and happy.

I have fought for myself and what I need to make myself happy. Not as much as I should have, but I am learning.

And I have worked hard to have a strong and healthy life, for myself, with my partner, and with my family.

But I have hit a wall. There is one part of my life I am tired of fighting for. This is one I should never have to fight for. But alas, here I am. I cease to feel that I can fix it. Not everything can be fixed.

I grew up in a world where we would do the best we could to mend things. And if that did not work, we would build something new, using the foundation that was there before the structure was broken.

Alas, I am finally feeling that some things cannot be fixed. Often we cannot do it by ourselves. Sometimes someone else has to stand beside us and work as hard as we do.

But not everyone has that ability, desire, or strength within.

Some people simply cannot stand in their pain to repair damage. And it is often damage they helped make or made on their own. If their own comfort is at risk, they would rather stay back and pretend the mess is not theirs. They will jump into the flame if it gives THEM the fulfillment, but to ascend from the ashes and leave behind the cloak they hide behind to mend fences is way too taxing.

I may have just reached a place where, in this instance, I have to say it is enough now. My desire to fight has exited.

So do I move on and never look back?

Or do I play the part and pretend it does not matter for the sake of peace? But whose peace? Mine? Maybe. Others? Definitely.

How often do we sacrifice our personal peace to keep things copacetic? I think in the case of women, all of the time.

Do I lose my fight? Not entirely. Not ever. But when someone does not want to fight for you, or beside you, perhaps they need to walk their own path. It might be sad at first to let go of that particular fight, but in the end we need to do what is best for us. Not a living soul can fight FOR you if you do not fight for YOU.

I want to be chosen. Clearly, only I can choose me. I have settled for less for way too long. Therefore, I must look to myself.

She’s had a few hard times
Sometimes it blows her mind
Papers she never signed
Sometimes she remembers

Sometimes she was just an actress
But you’ll never really know

Shadows move across her face
You cannot see her soul
Unless she lets you see her soul

STEVIE NICKS

One Month Only

I used to get into the rah rah rah “Autism Awareness month. Now it is Autism Acceptance, but it is still Wednesday in my house.

Our son is 30 years old. He has a diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder. He is intelligent, handsome, and very talented. He can sing any song at perfect pitch. He can recite Shakespeare beautifully using an English accent. Yet, no one is banging down our doors to have him participate in Shakespearean theater or perform live on their stage, gracing the world with his melodious voice. He is, at the end of the day, a 6’5″ disabled man, and the world still has not grown in acceptance enough to open its arms to his uniqueness.

He most certainly can perform in groups designed for those with special needs. Of course, the kindest hearts, most accepting people reside in the world of “Different not less” which has been our slogan for quite some time..

Am I bitter? Sometimes. My son was diagnosed at a time when ASD was not as common. Therefore, the multitude of services and acceptance we find today did not exist. Thanks to myself and the warrior parents that I walk this path with, hard work, perseverance, and advocacy created the opportunities that one receiving the diagnosis now is fortunate enough to see. I, and countless others, sacrificed our careers, financial securities, and emotional well-being to put our children first in a world that was unforgiving and far from welcoming.

Just a simple flap of the arms was enough to send some folks running far from our “weird kids”. In those days, it was almost shameful to have an openly autistic child, yet today some folks act as though it is a status symbol. My son is 30, those years when we were stared at are not so long ago.

It is neither shameful nor a status symbol. Our kids, our adults, are human beings deserving of the same rights, love, acceptance, and future that is available to every other human being.

One month. April. And throughout that month, they are recognized and cared about. Just one month out of 12, they are welcome in this world.

It is unacceptable, and this is why I am not a fan of this or, in fact, any of the “months”. Acceptance and proper treatment for all needs to be available for all 12 months, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

We need more employment opportunities. We need proper adult housing solutions; we need the cities, the states, and the federal government to provide more aid and to NEVER even consider cutting the budget for their support and services. We need our loved ones and THEIR loved ones, we parents, their siblings, and those who care for them, to be respected, invited, and welcomed. We have essentially created our own world, yet we somehow still pay for and work in the world we are not enveloped in, as others are. Changing this would prove true acceptance.

And that takes more than 30 days.

Now, I will indeed celebrate my son and his friends, many of whom have jobs, have completed high school, college, and volunteer to help others. Most give far more to their communities than those who are not on the spectrum. I will applaud their successes and pray for their futures.

Although these years have been far from easy, they have come with amazing blessings. There are no friends truer than the friends one makes among the community that supports their disabled children/adults. I am filled with gratitude that I get to walk amongst these warriors.

I will continue to advocate and pursue acceptance for those in our community. For they are destined to leave in an indelible mark upon our lives and this world.

Autism Acceptance Month, or more commonly known in our house-“Every Month”.

If only

If only there was an off button for anxiety.

If only telling someone that everything will be okay worked.

If only listening to your favorite song worked forever.

If only getting a hug was a lasting cure.

If only it was easy to put on a coat and go out when anxiety has gripped you.

If only talking to a friend ended the feelings.

If only medication was the final answer.

If only it would never return.

If only the world would stop increasing the anxiety.

If only it would go away forever.

If only.