tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19607704282963121592024-03-12T18:44:31.635-07:00My Autism StoryA blog about motherhood and the joys and challenges of a mother with a son who has autism.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.comBlogger18125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-8395625311975392722020-08-20T15:35:00.001-07:002020-08-20T15:35:46.391-07:00Work in progress<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDX91CzMtph9s_WO5gkKZI9AhuZ-0Cqgl9AQLDBgOMbeyJiHbTEdAqzJNVBjO7gU0ApCmhTiaF7rxEedUzeKwfy15bz4_ja-oR64TFk0mn0QYNdDQvd-uc3d70u_kKd322eMK30TuZysI/s2048/20180429_174642.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDX91CzMtph9s_WO5gkKZI9AhuZ-0Cqgl9AQLDBgOMbeyJiHbTEdAqzJNVBjO7gU0ApCmhTiaF7rxEedUzeKwfy15bz4_ja-oR64TFk0mn0QYNdDQvd-uc3d70u_kKd322eMK30TuZysI/w512-h384/20180429_174642.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><p></p><p><br /></p><p>Caring for someone with autism can be challenging during the pandemic. Schools and therapy centers are closed. Parents have to take care of their kids in their homes. In the past months, I have been teaching my son practical things like folding clothes, washing plates, counting money and using the calculator. I have always wanted to teach my son these life skills so I am using this time to teach him something he can use in his everyday life.</p><p>This pandemic have left us time to ponder about what are the most important things in life. Our health, our family. We have also acquired new skills and for me it was baking. One time, I instructed my son to help me in cracking some eggs to be put in a bowl. Unfortunately, he broke it too hard and ended up on the floor. Maybe next time he can do better. I want him to realize that it's okay to make mistakes and he can try again until he can do it right.</p><p>My son have made milestones since last year. He was able to complete the 16 hour flight to New York from Manila last July 2019. We were able to go to museums like the American Museum of Natural History and the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Met. He waited patiently on the benches of the Met while his father and I looked around the paintings of Van Gogh and Renoir, my favorite Impressionist painter . He was also behaved in the New York Public library.</p><p>A major milestone for him this year was I was able to bring him to the dentist to get his teeth cleaned. I was so nervous but I prepared him beforehand telling him that he has to open his mouth wide so the dentist can clean it so he won't have a toothache. Fortunately, he complied but of course, there was some hesitation and a lot of prodding too.</p><p>Yesterday, he was able to try some online learning with his new SPED teacher. I was nervous that he won't sit long but he did finish his lesson. So I hope this goes well too until they go back to regular school.</p><p>There are still other challenges that I still would like to address like him sleeping by himself in his own room. I think this goes hand in hand with his fear of thunder because when it starts raining he would cover his ears and get a little scared. This maybe the reason why he does not want to sleep alone so I still have to address this sensory thing.</p><p>Reminding myself of his milestones makes living in the new normal a little bearable. But I should not stop there. I would like to take advantage of this time to teach him new skills and overcome long standing fears so he can be more independent. He is still a work in progress like all of us are. </p><p>Keep safe, everyone.</p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-68859520038140384372019-04-24T17:53:00.000-07:002019-04-24T17:58:36.962-07:00Writing again<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcYHYrSAIB_DqnqnqY_lE5J7HnJi8XFn08TIrN3e42fO_IcLCDPCK43WjpVmGvBDtmws7dnqgQ7gp3vcdrb3y6IzOZZRklWq5w1Kly9uiC-aOfCVOnmu2W2gSmSw2QSAJLibM804LwhA/s1600/IMG_20181123_161420.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZcYHYrSAIB_DqnqnqY_lE5J7HnJi8XFn08TIrN3e42fO_IcLCDPCK43WjpVmGvBDtmws7dnqgQ7gp3vcdrb3y6IzOZZRklWq5w1Kly9uiC-aOfCVOnmu2W2gSmSw2QSAJLibM804LwhA/s400/IMG_20181123_161420.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My last post was last year. So much has happened and my son had a lot of breakthroughs this year. He is going to a bigger school and now preparing a trip to New York after a successful one from Vancouver last year. It is successful because we were able to pull it through on a 12 hour trip and now he'll be having his longest one this summer, a 15 to 16 hour ride. It will be quite an achievement for him and for me since I have been preparing him for this with by going through numerous domestic flights and few international flights. I am quite happy autism did not deter us from having him on trips abroad.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I am happy with his development now but there are still new challenges that await us like getting him to the dentist and facing changes brought about by puberty but I know with God's help and guidance we will be able to surmount it successfully.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Right now, I'm preparing for our trip while doing unending errands. It is quite a challenge and hope that I can still continue to write because it is something important to me. I hope my words can inspire mothers with special needs like autism. I want to make them feel that they are not alone and this journey will make us stronger because having children like them opens our hearts with so much love we don't think possible.</div>
<br />My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-281699724662871122018-06-29T15:52:00.001-07:002018-06-29T15:52:44.383-07:00Rant
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_v165ThyphenhyphenbwnsY8A84lGlwDn35LgKqWvmb8lDH2EMImoQatlbFGqcdR10ScIvIZIlbSHRKB81Hse9jalioBACTHJND8qNnC3VYuQzMswTtZ4mSojmkcK59QAg2nrDEtpiN6OBfiXdwSo/s1600/20180414_053404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu_v165ThyphenhyphenbwnsY8A84lGlwDn35LgKqWvmb8lDH2EMImoQatlbFGqcdR10ScIvIZIlbSHRKB81Hse9jalioBACTHJND8qNnC3VYuQzMswTtZ4mSojmkcK59QAg2nrDEtpiN6OBfiXdwSo/s400/20180414_053404.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"></span></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;">Let me just vent. I am now
writing this standing up. My back is acting up again. I need to get a check-up
once again. Yes, this on top of everything else. Preparing for a long trip,
taking care of the house and taking care of my son. I need an assistant. </span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Last week, I was so excited to
watch Ocean’s Eight but what do you know it was R13. I wanted so much to unwind
but alas it was not meant to be. Deep inside I felt like screaming, dammit why
can’t my son be 13 already so I could have watched this movie in the big screen
with a bag of sour cream flavored popcorn and sour cream flavored fries with
Coke! I mean I am so tired dragging along a 12 year old son with autism in the
mall always tugging at me and I can’t have a break. Dammit!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">And what do you know, the
universe gave me a chance to watch another movie. Adrift. It was a good
survival movie based on a true story, it’s just that the heroine’s bra less
scenes on the boat can be distracting and unnecessary. I mean yes, you’re on a
yacht but for pete’s sake get a bra just for the movie. There are minors
watching because it is rated PG<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and what
do I explain to my son,” Well, it’s normal son, no bra on a sunny day don’t
mind the taut nipples sticking out.” </span></span><div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: large;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Anyway, just when you just like
to be distracted with a funny movie, you have to seat through a serious one
because you know you just want to munch on popcorn and watch tragedy. But it
was a good movie, very inspiring, I mean to survive 41 days at sea is a feat,
my salute to her. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">However, Lord, I get it, it’s about
survival, just like what I’m doing now, just surviving even if my lower back
hurts, my legs aching due to sciatic pain and I’m worried about our trip abroad
to relatives I haven’t seen in 15 years and I can’t watch a nice, funny movie. Why?!<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">Plus our toilet bidet is leaking
and my favorite rubber shoe got a small hole in front because my big toe kept
jamming on it, why?! Just give me a break, God… and now my husband wants to
have guests over with the dishes overflowing and the house unkempt, I mean I’m
so not busy right?..Thank you hubby! and when I told him, let’s have the
visitors another day, we got into a fight and he sulked because it was his sister
and her foreign boyfriend coming over wanting to see our house like a museum
they have to visit. Whaaat the f**%k!</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="font-size: large;">So here I am writing about it
because that’s the only thing I can do, rant about it, scream my lungs out
inside my head and say all the curses on my mind because you know I can’t do it
for real lest I sound like a rabid dog foaming at the mouth in mindless anger.
You just take it and write about it and move on. Just like what my favorite writer, Kerima Polotan said, " Life scars a writer but he is not without weapons of vengeance". So here’s to you,
mothe&4%ker!!!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span><br />
</div>
</div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-15153924978222276962018-04-07T16:13:00.001-07:002018-04-07T16:16:16.035-07:00Grit to Prevail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hsEnWVzGil9iyJgIUjaJvXWanbc8dDGjQts53IN1e9Gb3WhiZjhb6jvyz3ZcYCSfQAcDfqxe41TjkgQhIYRSMkC32DeqyCpHM1W5g2XKbHUNX7wgDsVSbKh-clpNM8uFQvUjAgWX7e4/s1600/20160521_155021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8hsEnWVzGil9iyJgIUjaJvXWanbc8dDGjQts53IN1e9Gb3WhiZjhb6jvyz3ZcYCSfQAcDfqxe41TjkgQhIYRSMkC32DeqyCpHM1W5g2XKbHUNX7wgDsVSbKh-clpNM8uFQvUjAgWX7e4/s400/20160521_155021.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Time flies is such a cliché and it's been almost three years since I posted. So much things has happened and my son will be 12 years old in June. This is a scary part for me because he'll be hitting puberty soon. I don't know if he has the right school, if he has the right intervention. I don't know. Me, I just want to rest for awhile and just breathe.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I know I can't predict the future but what I will do now for him will prepare him for the future in a world that looks at him different, like a misfit in a society that can be cruel and unaccepting. I cannot shelter him from it but I can prepare him for it.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjodu2z-GMZcFbyVmi4BcWfY3fkJp5KeIycKJcBKj0ranWy5BRfKl0t_WM2p8SD9rAvbIu02A9owgDxwqaS4iDyNraU5hLoouk0qZLQfIY9TJ_Oxbcj2oSil1tUEPkzA0hpGwV0FIyQ3A/s1600/20160522_052300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjodu2z-GMZcFbyVmi4BcWfY3fkJp5KeIycKJcBKj0ranWy5BRfKl0t_WM2p8SD9rAvbIu02A9owgDxwqaS4iDyNraU5hLoouk0qZLQfIY9TJ_Oxbcj2oSil1tUEPkzA0hpGwV0FIyQ3A/s400/20160522_052300.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: large;">How can you teach him grit and not be so sheltered so he can cope with his life when he gets older? How can you make him experience the world himself and learn about fortitude? I wish I can make a program for him, something I would deem fit so he can be self-sufficient and independent. Isn't that something we all want for our children, to learn to fend for themselves in the future?</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgqswwj04HoRG1apMY7JOaAoY21g8sG105NZBIzLDHzfUihBCxxw-GiRwjzS5o0SwsN8OTddDMtgkFJdA7UCI8O3-dzPFBZudkV1N6TXY83-mZaYtMtT2lNzyNAd-I-znLUNwPu4j5Xs/s1600/20170514_054456.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAgqswwj04HoRG1apMY7JOaAoY21g8sG105NZBIzLDHzfUihBCxxw-GiRwjzS5o0SwsN8OTddDMtgkFJdA7UCI8O3-dzPFBZudkV1N6TXY83-mZaYtMtT2lNzyNAd-I-znLUNwPu4j5Xs/s400/20170514_054456.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: large;">If you follow the "ideal" program to aid in your battle with autism, the usual therapies are occupational therapies, speech therapies, ABA and others. I know they all helped my son but somehow I want him to learn more self-help skills. Because sometimes, two hours a week of therapy is not enough. Or maybe I just want to take a break. Maybe I need a respite from all the driving especially in traffic, from waiting in schools and therapy centers, from paying the bills and worrying about finances, worrying about my health, my husband's, my son's health, my parents' health and many other things. It just can be so overwhelming, I just want to lie down sometimes, close the lights and just sleep to blank my mind.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XFcZrbdZmKf_RdrfNQVwinTltA5TmlI1tJA9LMzewfXbESLzD28rDNIkw7gYTvtYNWK8MsGe8HErfsXlKPQKM_zuN_lWTRej3pw8HSaDNa0gs2JqrXvMu3nmtRulUFQFDpHjjXG6BSY/s1600/20160513_135311%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5XFcZrbdZmKf_RdrfNQVwinTltA5TmlI1tJA9LMzewfXbESLzD28rDNIkw7gYTvtYNWK8MsGe8HErfsXlKPQKM_zuN_lWTRej3pw8HSaDNa0gs2JqrXvMu3nmtRulUFQFDpHjjXG6BSY/s400/20160513_135311%25281%2529.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<span style="font-size: large;">It is a struggle, a constant challenge but autism have made me stronger. It may have nicked me at times but I feel confident that I will rise above it like all special parents like me would. It is a purpose that is given to us and by showing the world that we can not only handle it but become a better person because of it then we have prevailed.</span><br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgOU_qjdaeJGEsgMy8OWZ2chenyxJveKjtU2SahSeFCBLT4xMFvx2nGwEaq2xeV6Ydln-ek-DXIl9Q1R-D_BZrkzW-OSCsfVb9izCI9IWSs1DXA1YjEikfweykRVwlL_A1xUcVaqV5z4s/s1600/20180304_061511.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgOU_qjdaeJGEsgMy8OWZ2chenyxJveKjtU2SahSeFCBLT4xMFvx2nGwEaq2xeV6Ydln-ek-DXIl9Q1R-D_BZrkzW-OSCsfVb9izCI9IWSs1DXA1YjEikfweykRVwlL_A1xUcVaqV5z4s/s400/20180304_061511.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Like what they say, God gives the hardest battles to His strongest soldiers and one of my favorites, if life pushes you back, you push back harder. So cheers to us special parents and fight on :)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
</div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-11318291365461970682015-07-17T03:37:00.003-07:002015-07-17T03:43:07.204-07:00Taking inspiration from Tauriel and Kili<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNv-yDSldt49mYimjh7tcVaBqv302zDwipktq49TMWiWjIlJVegS-aIwuMhhs-_feGGOpS7XixTM8UrKqQg6GTQ-oY5188sus1StBjfpJ9OKtNQ2Imqj1j9EjQRWt3b9xqWzFFfmfb7rk/s1600/tauriel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNv-yDSldt49mYimjh7tcVaBqv302zDwipktq49TMWiWjIlJVegS-aIwuMhhs-_feGGOpS7XixTM8UrKqQg6GTQ-oY5188sus1StBjfpJ9OKtNQ2Imqj1j9EjQRWt3b9xqWzFFfmfb7rk/s400/tauriel.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Sometimes, I just wish it would
stop, his crying, his whining, his nudging me on my head with his own while we are lying in bed and his incessant screams in fear of the rain and in anticipation of thunder. I also wish
that the damn traffic would disappear so I won’t have to endure his mindless
shrieking, screaming of help while the cars stall in front of me during an
early morning ride to school.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2l1B5QoyCf97H7jUYsYym_pj8ihozw-UpkN_5tip26LdUTe0EWUfTAXdqKThwygiRGXa38XCQIs1u6Y4ukOWizs6kg1-S_8XZ84NLNujqcXMYkXcAcc96vcEZlTELRppInomhbL8Et8/s1600/azog+and+bolg.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="330" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin2l1B5QoyCf97H7jUYsYym_pj8ihozw-UpkN_5tip26LdUTe0EWUfTAXdqKThwygiRGXa38XCQIs1u6Y4ukOWizs6kg1-S_8XZ84NLNujqcXMYkXcAcc96vcEZlTELRppInomhbL8Et8/s400/azog+and+bolg.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Traffic and Thunder</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Autism never ceases to present
its own challenges. I am fighting the same monsters again like Azog and Bolg in
the Hobbit. Strong, formidable and I’m just the She-Elf, Tauriel deftly getting
out of their blows. I have no Legolas or Kili to help me, just me, just sheer
will and grit of riding it out. Sometimes, I feel like being hurled on the
wall, helpless, injured because I feel incapable of finding a solution to
finally subdue my son’s two intense sensory disorders, Traffic and Thunder. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-RgWxNI_NIIBzapgpQGVfJR6C8DIkwr5Ti6ODtXSUuY44PauP-LZu2L4DtlDwLrov9jWlPGIr32cwMwGTnI4BbJbOPs1r3LmRVgeNO3Z0bPB9tYzimNCYBvg3-xpXppEL3sTLEwx2sk/s1600/tauriel3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk-RgWxNI_NIIBzapgpQGVfJR6C8DIkwr5Ti6ODtXSUuY44PauP-LZu2L4DtlDwLrov9jWlPGIr32cwMwGTnI4BbJbOPs1r3LmRVgeNO3Z0bPB9tYzimNCYBvg3-xpXppEL3sTLEwx2sk/s400/tauriel3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Is it me, am I being
soft with him but I have raised my voice a couple of times, threatening to get out of the
car, sometimes furtively pinching him so he would associate his scream with a
little pain but still to no avail. Maybe my last resort would be to follow up on my
threats of leaving the car, or asking him to get out to the streets while of course within my sights.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZB7oePJCKat13OZNYKHJLK0e_SWhhcVaW-NvfAKqM9qQdML8z7kGTSSzErvP2pfkUdf1VNWV5JBU1zh9PyK8tbsllFhzNPmlnTcGPzVxWHIuYiIiCYEUMrADqXJXJL53HacjzY542F_c/s1600/0370294c8cd6a1ffa24cb3f5dac6d515.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZB7oePJCKat13OZNYKHJLK0e_SWhhcVaW-NvfAKqM9qQdML8z7kGTSSzErvP2pfkUdf1VNWV5JBU1zh9PyK8tbsllFhzNPmlnTcGPzVxWHIuYiIiCYEUMrADqXJXJL53HacjzY542F_c/s400/0370294c8cd6a1ffa24cb3f5dac6d515.gif" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I am just
desperate and often when he resorts to his screaming fits, I imagine I’m with
my favorite Kili hanging out in the car, me just marveling
his breathtaking presence and his wide smile and forgetting the war zone I am
in. It takes the grating parts off those moments. It makes it more bearable.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83ox4ioyQFFMOZdbFaLBZkqXOOcAw8XWiA-2MS1p9uzsyVcLO9_95K5U0EDm_QdtQRxe3HlQ69j9phBFKs-M8J4uR08HSqvCPWD-kRfreJ9p5EuJ-oU_IfINgNO0l3liAyMjl_w2tjls/s1600/kili2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="242" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi83ox4ioyQFFMOZdbFaLBZkqXOOcAw8XWiA-2MS1p9uzsyVcLO9_95K5U0EDm_QdtQRxe3HlQ69j9phBFKs-M8J4uR08HSqvCPWD-kRfreJ9p5EuJ-oU_IfINgNO0l3liAyMjl_w2tjls/s400/kili2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Right now, I need a miracle to
remedy these “problems”. Maybe I need to load up on my prayers, maybe that
would help, maybe I could make social stories, make a documentary or Powerpoint
presentation like the ABA seminar I attended in to prepare him in these kinds
of situations. Maybe that would help so that I could finally subdue these "monsters". I know I would trimph. I know I will even if it takes a while. Meanwhile, I
will need to watch more Kili and Tauriel scenes to keep me going <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-46475715736146365502015-01-15T14:31:00.003-08:002015-01-15T14:32:59.303-08:00Rising up again<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AmpKkFV5x6L5EWU-kqBjnBJye91j8qjiDntKiw3DUkBlPiUx2YaicRwBOrBw_6LhnGTP78DH3yBpPeYSK9YcNJwzLKpxK_lBkwaihJgGz5igFbHHzzmRsYfgJl8z4Ot9ejyeIRBsr0E/s1600/041320145500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3AmpKkFV5x6L5EWU-kqBjnBJye91j8qjiDntKiw3DUkBlPiUx2YaicRwBOrBw_6LhnGTP78DH3yBpPeYSK9YcNJwzLKpxK_lBkwaihJgGz5igFbHHzzmRsYfgJl8z4Ot9ejyeIRBsr0E/s1600/041320145500.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
My last post had been in September 2013. Wow, that had been a long time. My son will turn 9 years old this year. Yes, it is still is a struggle. He still hates traffic and he's bigger and stronger now. He now has a gap on his front tooth which he got from his Dad and I'm still here hanging on.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
What's different now is I've been studying, I'm taking up Special Education units and I will try to get my license as a teacher this year. I have bonded with some mommies and have a special group of friends to talk to about our special kids. I have been sidelined from writing for a while and now I'm coming back to what I really love doing.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm also training for a marathon. Something to test my mental power after climbing a perilous mountain last year. I'm doing it for my son, for myself, to test my limits so I can be better accompanying him on this journey.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I have changed because of him. I want to be better because of him. I'm not perfect though, I slip up but I will rise again. I will because of him.</div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-71356690900956516922013-09-27T18:33:00.002-07:002013-09-27T18:37:52.850-07:00My Writing and Autism<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-Yth5D-QQyub10aHH8Ikj2zlsYWuRtKryXn_mpITwvosRW4Fyv_Hs8Oxj6PRBGzbSiQmv55hwXX4opcdD5eh1Z4oVT_dY7IIPFhxAI6rDI2enoPa2l3-jZbgBDokA1o7WcEJhRH0Mzo/s1600/040620133369.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJ-Yth5D-QQyub10aHH8Ikj2zlsYWuRtKryXn_mpITwvosRW4Fyv_Hs8Oxj6PRBGzbSiQmv55hwXX4opcdD5eh1Z4oVT_dY7IIPFhxAI6rDI2enoPa2l3-jZbgBDokA1o7WcEJhRH0Mzo/s400/040620133369.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
It's been awhile since I wrote on this blog. I maintain three other blogs aside from this, a food blog, a blog about books and movies and a blog featuring my short stories. Though, I don't post everyday, I try to update it every month.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Writing for these blogs can be a challenge. It would be easy to plow along and write without any care just so I can update my blog but I can't. I put my heart and parts of my soul into it as cliche as it may sound but it's true. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And so that's why I don't often post on this blog, one that pertains about my journey with autism. Because it is the blog that guts me when I write about it. It's the one that is the most personal and heart rending because it is about my son and our journey together with this disability.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I'm not perfect, I know I should be doing something more for him, maybe more therapies or spend more time with him but right now, it is unscrambling my thoughts here that I can cope better and become a mother that has more patience and more understanding.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I read an enlightening book by John Maxwell called :"Beyond Talent". He talked about focus and spending time on talents you feel you are good at or one that interests you the most. I feel that way about writing and I plan to cultivate this talent as much as I can. I plan therefore to write more often though I know I've mentioned it already because I feel that if you love something or someone, you don't run away. You come near it and get to know it better. I have ran away from it long enough and I realize I love putting down my thoughts on paper. It is the one thing that I am passionate about even when I was still in high school, journaling and creating short stories on small notebooks.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And I want to combine this craft with my journey with my son, to come to grips with this puzzling phenomenon that has also entered the lives of many families. Maybe writing more on this blog can also help other parents feel that they're not alone on this journey.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I hope to write here often and maybe share some tips on how to handle some social situations that I have encountered myself. Thanks for reading :)</div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-14169064467551508352013-04-21T14:26:00.002-07:002013-04-21T14:28:26.911-07:00Mental preparation is key<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFjiCih7eNhHLPJ8qbN0XmOx7yfGmPGcMRC6iBqqEQi523g1waD7ZhnbxdOfWNkgpDdVOl9tmC2ZbBRYvPTA6t5c2uDJf4LJkkIrKq4vV4YdybaZ3br2knUhn0JxdawQ1MsddPyJt4r0/s1600/040620133335.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="222" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinFjiCih7eNhHLPJ8qbN0XmOx7yfGmPGcMRC6iBqqEQi523g1waD7ZhnbxdOfWNkgpDdVOl9tmC2ZbBRYvPTA6t5c2uDJf4LJkkIrKq4vV4YdybaZ3br2knUhn0JxdawQ1MsddPyJt4r0/s400/040620133335.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s like a bomb exploded
yesterday. Out of nowhere, all hell broke loose. Just a simple sentence from
the doctor, “Please lift your butt”
because my son sat had been sitting on her stethoscope had my son
scurrying out of the clinic screaming to the surprise of other patients there.
And as he was sitting on the chair outside, crying and whining, he blurted out,
“Somebody help me” out of the echolalic words he has gotten from TV shows. A
foreigner couple was sitting beside him and there was a look of dismay on the
man’s face. I wanted to say, “What are you looking at? He has autism you
asshole, so stop judging me.” What can I say, my son’s recollection that a
doctor injected him with a sedative for a dental procedure seemed to be fresh
for him and this time his strong memory of things had been a scourge.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There was a skirmish when we got
inside the office again. The doctor wanted to check his ear and he refused. I
felt devastated inside. He has acquired that irrational fear of doctors again,
remembering when he was three years old and he refused to go inside his pedia
clinic after being hospitalized and coerced to be inserted with an IV. All the
breakthroughs I had with him seemed to pale after today. I had gotten him
inside an airplane for the first time, had him watch 4 full-length films and have soccer lessons
this year and now, we have this incident.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s not like it’s his first time
in the doctor’s office. He has been here before and the only thing different
now was I had not prepared him mentally. To say things like. “We’re going to
the doctor today, he’s going to look at your mouth, your ears and listen to
your chest” and recreating that scene at home. I was unprepared for this
unfortunate incident. I didn’t know that he had a traumatic memory hidden from
months before.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And the bad part was, I panicked.
I forgot to retreat because it is given
that when incident like this erupts no amount of cajoling, threatening,
stomping can make him go back if his mind is fixed already. He got my
stubbornness well. More than that, I will lose each time I will force him
physically becauseI’m afraid to hurt him and I’ll give in to his struggles
eventually. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
The war is clearly on the mental side with him. He has to be
assured that it’s okay, he won’t be hurt. I should have retreated and regrouped
and came back to the clinic another day because to have him screaming,
gnashing, crying inside the clinic like he was being tortured was deeply
embarrassing. I know I should be gotten used to it but it hasn’t. You just got
to grow a thicker skin, a harder armor outside your heart to protect yourself
from the stings caused by stares that arrive without warning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
This is another lesson yet again.
Not to be complacent because I am dealing with a complicated, special person.
And to my credit, even this eruption happened, it doesn't diminish the fact
that there had been significant progress in terms of having him ride a plane
for the first time, watch movies, play soccer and sit through haircut days with
the barber. I have to say this so I won’t feel sorry for myself. I can’t afford
that, not now, not ever, somebody is relying me to get up and try again. Again,
this is not a setback but a lesson, something I will encounter again. Next time, I will be ready. <span style="font-family: Wingdings; mso-ascii-font-family: Calibri; mso-char-type: symbol; mso-hansi-font-family: Calibri; mso-symbol-font-family: Wingdings;">J</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-7592536117927265912013-01-05T14:33:00.000-08:002013-01-07T17:49:30.564-08:00New year: New Breakthroughs & New Challenges<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprq5fEtQQOCVCh-rBFkzO6_aXIY5VoYpY3UsSXc54lM_o14uZiv6XZupcpsP-i1wx0AgUKQMeauORnI2iXlWaOJ-di3YxR6FbkY6IiiJHvwAOi2an1ORnnN-ViH_eewPv-PTQ-_6A8_o/s1600/123120122641.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiprq5fEtQQOCVCh-rBFkzO6_aXIY5VoYpY3UsSXc54lM_o14uZiv6XZupcpsP-i1wx0AgUKQMeauORnI2iXlWaOJ-di3YxR6FbkY6IiiJHvwAOi2an1ORnnN-ViH_eewPv-PTQ-_6A8_o/s400/123120122641.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Vulnerability. That is what
writing is all about. And that is what this entry is about. I have always
wondered if I’m still going back to writing about autism because writing about
my child’s condition requires me to become vulnerable again. Like an actor
exposing his tears on a big screen for all the world to see.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Autism has been a struggle. The
past year had been a series of ups and downs. There have been breakthroughs and challenges yet his condition still continues to be an enigma. New episodes are coming out and additional
therapies has to be made.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
My son has a lot of sensorial
issues. There are certain voices he doesn't like to hear and certain people he dislikes in certain situations. In short, he has a lot of stuff he has to deal
with and it’s up to me to find out solutions for these.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
We may be having his first plane ride soon. I don’t know how he will respond. How he will respond to the
sounds of an aircraft engine running at takeoff or react to the sounds of the flight attendant's voice. I read some articles about preparing a child with autism
for his first plane trip and I feel agitated already. It’s like
preparing for a military strike or a stealth operation. I have to know what my
back-up plans are and my exit points. Maybe I could have
some medication on hand like Benadryl or in case we’ll be kicked off
the plane, find the nearest port.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
And why would I even attempt it,
this plane ride you ask? Am I insane or something? Maybe. Because if I don't do it, push his limits then this condition
wins and I don't like losing. I won't let it triumph and trap us not to do something different, exciting or
adventurous. I won’t accept it.<br />
<br />
I want my son to be familiar with a
plane while he’s still young because it will be harder to wrestle with a 16 year old if
this plane ride will be done later. Besides, I have attempted to
have him watch a movie last year even if earlier opinions about it are not
exactly encouraging. And it was successful. He may have ran in front at one
point and have asked me to go out when the trailers got annoying but he
finished the movie. Even if it means he was bouncing off my lap because he found
the foldable seats weird. Maybe watching Finding Nemo on a big
screen once in a park worked. Or maybe the guardians were with me that time because
it was the movie, The rise of the Guardians.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I will be visiting the
Developmental Pedia again. Telling him some of his progress and hiccups and
maybe some therapies will be suggested. Anyhow, another challenge before the coming plane ride is his having a
dental procedure soon. Two of his
permanent teeth are already coming out in front while his milk teeth have yet to
come off. So a visit to his regular pedia will be done to confirm that he is physically ready for
the procedure then confirm a procedure date with his Pedia dentist. And it’s a little scary
because it’s a form of surgery meaning he would have to be put into sedation. And
I’m also afraid that if he is inflicted some pain by the dentist, he would
remember and we won’t be able to go back again to have his teeth checked and
cleaned.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
So here I am, writing about the
challenges with a child with autism. Yes, I blog about food, books, movies. But
blogging about my thoughts, my anxieties about this condition is harder. Still, there’s a part of me that wants to share it to others. Because writing about it not only eases a little tension in me, but it is my way of reaching out to fellow parents like me, with children with autism, by letting them feel that they’re not alone in this
struggle, that we are all "brothers in arms". Because sometimes, it can be isolating because not many people can understand it. More than that, writing about it would hopefully let others realize how difficult it is for parents like us and
not make fun of our kids or let their kids make fun of ours.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOVoFuVzNiUBSqjuFylbC5rNsiRGfUeHXnDzmJ8RmJsgKdOKWkhMt-4L1aedClym-gK18tQWyJReo09m0G6Rj14Ey20uqgEQDz2HgwjJn5cuvvGhVBD78cDdoWGHsb26qdiW6D8DrjGE/s1600/pangako.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaOVoFuVzNiUBSqjuFylbC5rNsiRGfUeHXnDzmJ8RmJsgKdOKWkhMt-4L1aedClym-gK18tQWyJReo09m0G6Rj14Ey20uqgEQDz2HgwjJn5cuvvGhVBD78cDdoWGHsb26qdiW6D8DrjGE/s320/pangako.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I like what one project of the Autism Society of the Philippines is now campaigning for, 1Pangako, http://autismsocietyphilippines.blogspot.com/p/a-promise-to-end-joke.html . They are advocating not to use the word "autistic" as form of a joke or a form of ridicule out of respect for individuals with autism or parents with children with autism who are living through it. This is such a great step for advocating the rights of individuals who have no way of defending themselves against people who know nothing about the condition yet continue to make fun out of it or bully people with a condition such as this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
It is indeed a New year. Hopefully despite vulnerable topic, I could still regularly update this blog. I sure hope so. Okay..I will :)</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-8791885972958998072012-06-13T19:05:00.004-07:002012-12-06T17:29:32.358-08:00When the rains come<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiYRd7vUYqKuOcQrr2PmBZztaB3pItg4PUydtXSiNMlcnmaIJSufuo-6026UHcr5Evi09Klimk-vUJz8fmDxcG2ZKb5injSYNvSQPCwrhh6RFPEF7Dgf_XrLRdvkIkbLA4ZZ1SiD0WLc/s1600/060220121376.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDiYRd7vUYqKuOcQrr2PmBZztaB3pItg4PUydtXSiNMlcnmaIJSufuo-6026UHcr5Evi09Klimk-vUJz8fmDxcG2ZKb5injSYNvSQPCwrhh6RFPEF7Dgf_XrLRdvkIkbLA4ZZ1SiD0WLc/s400/060220121376.jpg" width="316" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
There are posts that are hard to
write. And this is one of them. It’s not easy write posts about your child who has
autism. Last week, the clouds began to
spurt rain after a dry summer. And my son had his hands on his ears, screaming
and hiding on my back and crying on my hair. I’m not sure
if he hates the sound of the rain or the thunder that comes with it. I think
it’s more of the thunder because he associates the rain with it.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzK9t0RtcNNZ_tGXRnv1YMXL3Xmh9DbzcLpU5M8F9ePAEmGnY95U_DmwS9i6fh_Vf5XPb6EuD0lZkNCsGkqRwCWB02USvkLxsLqd6iqwjAKwJlF9IP6RAR-MxE5gUV0bjiAj28NLvk-SM/s1600/060220121378.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzK9t0RtcNNZ_tGXRnv1YMXL3Xmh9DbzcLpU5M8F9ePAEmGnY95U_DmwS9i6fh_Vf5XPb6EuD0lZkNCsGkqRwCWB02USvkLxsLqd6iqwjAKwJlF9IP6RAR-MxE5gUV0bjiAj28NLvk-SM/s400/060220121378.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Honestly, it’s easier to write
about food, books, movies than write about what ails my son. It’s different,
it’s personal and I feel powerless. It's near to home. Okay, it is home.
Because how can I stop the rain from falling or the thunder from happening? I
wish I was Thor or friends with him so I can ask him to bring the thunder
somewhere else because my son doesn’t like it. But unfortunately, I can’t. I
have to deal with it, my son too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs87tWYhbPK4V_pNC9RVd9unE8UJLUKOfjdE5gq1dT8B5kKqkm4On89Tr74-EVsgEGGjejALoKT6rmGgYyqHO3CKwh46ShJgnzSBURynV82F5XGA10W_6F7CHJ0ATFWqmceKSGEulqV40/s1600/060220121380.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs87tWYhbPK4V_pNC9RVd9unE8UJLUKOfjdE5gq1dT8B5kKqkm4On89Tr74-EVsgEGGjejALoKT6rmGgYyqHO3CKwh46ShJgnzSBURynV82F5XGA10W_6F7CHJ0ATFWqmceKSGEulqV40/s400/060220121380.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
I just came from the ballet and
it’s half past midnight. I can’t sleep. I have to write this post because it
has been overdue like a paper you don’t want to start, a diet you want to
postpone. But it’s been burrowing in my mind for so long, something is nagging
me to write it and update my neglected blog as I call it. Because when the heavens
poured last week I had been in hell from the screaming and howling that lasted
for an hour. Part of me wants to share it so others who are also going through the same thing will feel that they're not alone in this.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Go3fg9RGutKRgIsDIi63A_LzXXbzPVkbj9usI-a_uMgj7NCAYDopVfOFo1a1jbYcDOujgN0sBSB8lI0Z_bkbMLhqFFFUO7TDk6HAtT6y2BM5foNsbaiH0eUmJcolLOpkxVEdAaRIHLM/s1600/060220121396.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="293" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Go3fg9RGutKRgIsDIi63A_LzXXbzPVkbj9usI-a_uMgj7NCAYDopVfOFo1a1jbYcDOujgN0sBSB8lI0Z_bkbMLhqFFFUO7TDk6HAtT6y2BM5foNsbaiH0eUmJcolLOpkxVEdAaRIHLM/s400/060220121396.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
Anyway, my sister and I tried
going out with him on the rain, letting him touch it and I thought it worked since we were outside and it drizzled. But when it rained harder he still covered his ears and whined. Still, I'm thankful for my sister for trying :) Then surprisingly one day,
when it was pouring, he just stopped covering his ears while watching cartoons
and he became accustomed to it. I was so happy. But the sun was out the next day. So I’m not
sure if he really had been “cured” from his irrational fear. I’m afraid he’ll
revert back to his screaming banshee ways when the rains come again. Oh no!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
How can something so ordinary, so
common can upset him? I don’t know. It's part of the disorder, I think, when sounds seem to be filtered differently to them. I try not to let it get to me but when someone’s screaming at your ear, it’s hard
not to feel the blood rush to your head and not feel a migraine or a vertigo
coming. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
If the rains come again, I have
to be prepared. I can desensitize him now by letting him watch the rain on
youtube, explain to him through pictures what the rain is or read stories about the rain. This is easier than done but I'll try. Of course, with lots of prayers on the
side.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
P.S.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
It’s been weeks and his teachers
in his mainstream school have helped him cope. He has stopped covering his ears and doesn't seem to mind the rain that much anymore. Hopefully, it would be a bit
better from here on. </div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-3853605706496257102012-04-26T19:56:00.001-07:002012-12-06T17:06:14.725-08:00The World of A- an essay I submitted for the Palanca that didn't win<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WuCuqGMxaqiHpzVaQba2gTIMze3gjmBeTlDq_WF46rlIegeTwWBD_9W7-0iKldARMO5NRZy6ByPd3lq5t6tB1RWsxHzoAMqNShCYU2sXtWFwMWp_RQVBDO_rlEiAxAifDsGvAIVxmKo/s1600/david1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-WuCuqGMxaqiHpzVaQba2gTIMze3gjmBeTlDq_WF46rlIegeTwWBD_9W7-0iKldARMO5NRZy6ByPd3lq5t6tB1RWsxHzoAMqNShCYU2sXtWFwMWp_RQVBDO_rlEiAxAifDsGvAIVxmKo/s400/david1.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12pt;">
My jaw clenched when I saw the ocean
of glistening cars in the midday sun. Then
the first wave of sweltering punches arrives, sudden and intense. I patiently
absorb the thuds on my car seat. It grows stronger as his wild frustration
agitates him, the idling cars triggering the rise of the tempest. The howling
beside my ears intensifies and a hard tug radiated in my scalp. I desperately
pull my weakened strands from his determined fingers. If he doesn’t let go, I
will have to resort to intense measures like painfully squeezing his stubby
fingers or biting it if I have to. Wow, what a scene must we look like, I
thought, mother and son grappling inside a vehicle in the heat of day.</div>
When the cyclone leaves, the sun
rises in his eyes, melting all traces of the aggression that occurred. But I’m not always unscathed because a surprising
irritation can translate to a lightning headbutt, a tumultuous earthquake
rocking my senses leaving me to endure a prickling frost tapped on my bruised
cheek. This is my world now, a world interspersed with his, a world not many
will belong to, only those selected smiled or cursed by fate whatever your
state of my mind may be. This is a world that is continuously unfurling, surprisingly
temperamental and each revelation is awaited with unflinching anxiety. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
But before I was transported here, I
thought I already passed the worst catastrophes in life from broken childhood
to shattering losses of loved ones. I also thought that I passed the rites of
motherhood after surviving an arduous labor and weeks of unbearable fatigue from
hovering at his crib while the rooster slumbered and lurid thoughts of scraping
my wrist kept me company. I was wrong it
seems, this was only the start. After the kinship of early morning feedings
with other mothers has passed, I was led to a different path in the Motherhood
road. Some went to la la land and I, and a handful of others went straight to
the land of the lost.</div>
<div style="border-bottom: double windowtext 2.25pt; border: none; mso-element: para-border-div; padding: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="border: none; margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt: double windowtext 2.25pt; mso-padding-alt: 0in 0in 1.0pt 0in; padding: 0in; text-align: justify;">
It is a
land where disturbing thoughts of the future stretches like lands of scorching
desert or plains of immaculate snow, when disheartening realizations become furious
tsunamis crashing all your plans with fury, wasting it as an obsolete part of
the past. It is a world deformed by a cruel asteroid. And not many people will enter this warped world,
this surreal universe I’m in where tempests abound riddled with icy storms,
searing heat, cascading floods and sudden earthquakes. This is my world now,
this is my son’s world, a world touched with autism. </div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Silent darkness…Crashing earthquake.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
I didn’t wake up in this world in an
instant. I weaved around in darkness as others silently watched. Before the
doctor confirmed my fears, ominous signs like his almost nonexistent words at
three, lining up cars obsessively in a straight line, watching the whirling
electric fan blades with absurd fascination and irrational fears of entering
unfamiliar rooms hovered in my thoughts, wondering if these were parts of
childhood quirks or parts of a more serious developmental problem. When people in authority offered no clue,
letting me feel my way through the abyss. That time I can’t fathom my pediatrician’s
uneasy smiles when asked about my son’s condition though she repeatedly pushed
me to contact her developmental pedia colleague. My father, also a doctor urges
me the same, have him checked by a specialist. No one told me of their worst
fears, no one wanted to be the bearer of a doomed verdict, conveniently closing
the door to a lost person.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Feeling my way through the bleakness
of space, a neutral angel emerges, the internet. It silently unwrapped its
wings and revealed some symptoms that characterized different ailments, one of
which is autism. Reading this word though, I felt like I was in suspended
animation, one where I awaited to be gloriously enlightened or wretchedly
devastated. Still, my husband clutched his to slivers of hope, confidently
guessing that it must be ADHD. It was sweet ambiguity. I wanted him to be
right, so much, especially this time. Then the asteroid hit. A doctor confirmed
it. Autism. I felt my world triggered an
earthquake so catastrophic that it carelessly decimated all structures that
adamantly refused to bow before it. The doctor was speaking and I couldn’t hear
it. Like survivors in a crash and an unforgiving quake I was confused. There
were no hysterics and the world fell silent. Life carried on for others but I
was never the same again. Suddenly, I was different from the rest of humanity. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
A part of me died that day, the part
where wistful dreams for my child resides, the part where I can see a
multi-hued future. I only saw the absence of light because it is a future
aggravated by a creeping fear within, one that hysterically cried, who will
care for my son? What will happen to him
when my stiff hands have been ravaged by age and I can’t smooth the wrinkles of
his clothes and lightly wipe the smudge off his cheek? Who will comfort him
when I am at my deathbed, feebly wrestling death to the finish and my last
struggling thought will be about his welfare. How will I leave a helpless adult
at the care of others who may not understand? Whichever way I saw it, a tragic
ending seemed to await us. Gathering him in my arms, I saw a child who may not
marry, raise kids, talk back, someone who can argue with me or slam the door.
Maybe I won’t have those. I might not even have a grandchild. Looking back, the tears I shed at dark altars
rivaled the gushing, uncontrollable waters of Ondoy. Bargains were made to
spare my son and I offered all the wishes and prayers I have in all my days,
for all my birthdays, all my Christmases. I offered it like mothers offering
their children to GIs leaving a war torn Vietnam. Take him, save him. But the
silence dripped within me as the reality of another, unknown world dawned. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
There are no books to prepare you
for this, when your world transforms into a scary world, when tantrum storms
erupt for no reason, when aghast stares follow you like rapacious vultures
waiting for their prey and when the isolation freezes like a polar wind. I live
in the world of A. Some people live here too and they cope. All of us have
learned to. Sometimes I pass other travelers in this world, mothers like me,
coping, worrying. Like veterans in a forgotten war, we exchange stories with
forced hilarity, trying to mask the hard realities we’re facing with veiled humor.
And one of the hard parts we discuss is the inability of our kids to converse,
when you have to prompt them to speak. So it is both a joy and a pain to hear other
kids talking to their mothers when one word from our children is a hard-fought
reward. Fortunately, my son have started
to utter words, three -stringed words I can wriggle out of him, luring him out
of his world. In a strange way, I am fortunate that he can communicate and I
won’t have to decipher grunts and wails anymore. But there are still unknown
landmines I have to live with. He still hates the sound of high-pitched voices
like a female voice on TV or sounds of women eating on the dinner table or
unbelievably, background music of some movies or TV shows, slight detection
wakes the hurricane inside him unleashing it, throwing him to the ground,
kicking and screaming. I read it up and some experts call it sensory
integration problems. Somehow, these sounds arrive to him in a distorted
manner. Then there are moments when he suddenly becomes fearful in a mall and
closes his eyes while walking. Something may have caused it, a light, a sound,
an image. It is a normal world for you but to him, certain sounds or sights can
be debilitating. It is a world we both learn to survive.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Sitting on the hard steps of a
therapy center watching cars passing by, people walking, I wonder if they would
ever know what people from the world of A are going through, the sadness, the
uncertainty they feel for their child’s future. It is a world where finances almost double with
therapy sessions, special schools and assistants even if the staggering reality
is there is still no cure for autism, that measures are set so these kids can
function in daily life, learning how to eat
and dress by themselves. And parents can only hope that they have saved
enough so their child can be provided for after they’ve gone, hoping that a
stable financial future could ease their palpable fear that their child would
be alone, unattended and unloved. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Torrential rains…Melting lava.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
The rains come regularly after the
great quake and it’s not coming from above, the water flows from my eyes. It
feels unending, pounding at inopportune times. The first few months of
discovery feels like waking up in the middle of battlefield, chaotic, devastating.
There is almost no one to talk to because not many people understand this
ailment. There is also a feeling of being lost, wandering without a map, hoping
to get to a destination you’re not sure exists. It happens when new behaviors
baffle me, when no answers are given and I have to bear it until it goes away
or until I get used to it. I often look
at him while playing, silent in his own world. Then he smiles and the clouds
break, flooding moisture to my cheeks. How can something so innocent as a smile
hide something so difficult and heartbreaking? </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Echolalia. Occupation Therapy.
Speech therapy. Stimming. I hear these
terms over and over from doctors to SPED teachers. I have also learned other medical
terms after ingratiating myself on autism books and scoured the web for alternative
treatments. But there is no specific remedy for autism. Each child is
different. Some may be better at talking while some have lesser tantrums. Others
like my son have severe sensory integration issues. Then just as I’m untangling
myself from these unfamiliar medial concepts, another part of this world unfolds.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Deep radiations of antipathy begin
to sting. Bold stares, loud whispers about my son’s outbursts begin to irritate
me. I tried to develop a thicker hide so the heated cuts wouldn’t permeate so
much. But when it seeps inside a flicker of anger is usually awakened. With
total strangers, the hide works and you can almost forgive their ignorance
hoping that they were better informed but when relatives keep you at bay
because of the inconvenience of having your child around, the hurt turns to
anger. With all your sensitivities heightened, the lack of tact bruises you
because additional jabs like this make the load heavier. Fueled by isolation
and confusion, the pressure often builds and eruption occurs, fiery lava of
words begin to flow freely, melting weak bridges along the way.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Artic Wind… Rays of sun and Eclipses</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Ruminating about the future is
walking in a field of unending snow, serenely white and eerie. No sun, only
nimbus skies. Grating wind brushes in varying degrees, fear and desolation. I
don’t know where I’m going and where does it all lead to? Exhausted, I
sometimes huddle in a cave, give in to self-pity and stare at my ragged
sanctuary. Fatigue pushes me down, succumbing me in this Artic surroundings.
But often rays of sunlight filter through this encased sanctuary, valiantly
escaping the icy skies and illuminating my harsh cavern. Voices of trusted friends
of close relatives envelope this cave, their concern warming and comforting me.
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Lying down sometimes, wracked and
weakened, I go through a bout of wishful thinking. What if I didn’t marry and
had a child? I could have been an avid traveler not a wife and mother burdened
my domestic duties. I wouldn’t know about this world and I would still be me,
not an automaton anticipating and nourishing a child’s every need. I would still
be self-involved, juvenile instead of selfless and matured. My soft hands would
be retained not calloused by dishwashing lather. My pictures would reflect my
spoiled youth not the wisdom I collected from the hardships I encountered. Distanced
from the naïve life I once knew, I have adapted to this hardy environment, my life
is now a boot camp drilling me into drudgery, forging my character into a
stronger core.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I
wonder what you are, up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky… yes, just a harmless nursery rhyme. But when I
hum it, my son crumples and cover his ears while shouting no more, no more! How
can the sound of my voice irritate him so that he hits or spits at times?
Funny, I’m sure I sing on tune. Why does the music from some movie make him
tailspin and rush out of the room as if in pain? My husband and I couldn’t even
watch a decent movie without him making a dive to the covers, screaming and his
hands on his ears. Simple moments for others it but formidable events for us,
it strikes without warning. If other
people could just know what we live with everyday, what we bear in addition to
the struggles of daily life, on top of
constant bills, marital concerns and chores. It is clambering up a mountain
with a heavy sack or a thorn in your thigh. You climb no matter what, you don’t
acknowledge the pain. You haul yourself up even when it throbs.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
The Manila traffic is not only a
bore to some or an inconvenience; to us it is a scourge. My son likes things on
the go and when everything is at a standstill, his fists and his feet are up in
the air, thumps and strikes abound, sometimes hitting you on the head.
Scratches and pinches are also a staple and you try to deflect it as you hold
on to the wheel. Like carrying a young bull at the backseat, there is no peace
as you pray that the traffic would ease up and he can crane his head at all the
vehicles passing along.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Traversing the unforgiving world of
A, I also encounter full eclipses, darkening my world momentarily, causing
panic. Glimpses of the future reveal itself in unexpected moments. My husband
and I were hearing mass with my son outside the church when we saw a father
with his son who seems to be of the special kind too. The latter is in his
teenage years with his hairy legs and maturing physique. Unlike my son who is
busy running around the gated playground, this young man was sitting silently,
his father standing like a guard on alert. He then quickly hands a small bag of
chips he keeps on his back when the boy stirred. I avert my eyes in case he
glances our way but something silently descends on me, the same feeling I have
when I meet older kids with autism, the sense of dread. My mind will again be
overrun with questions. Will my son look like that when he’s older? Can we
possibly take care of him as an adult when we’re in our old age? When he’s
bigger and we can’t handle his gigantic tantrums? Would we have enough money to hire bulky
assistants to help us? I wonder if that father knows if my child has autism or
if he is reminded of his child’s younger days when he saw him? I hope not. It’s
hard for me to see this, to see what the distant future may offer.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Then I also remember a teenage boy staring
at me in a lobby of a special school, he was obviously waiting for his ride. He
was looking at me and making strange noises. I knew what it was a form of
stimming, repetitive behavior but I was still unnerved. I remember my son making noises like these at
times and I feel the dread again. Will others look at him like this and wonder
if he’s crazy and fear him? Or will he be seen as a heartbreaking sight like
the eighteen year old girl I also saw, rocking back and forth with scabs on her
arm? She was still in diapers I heard. I look at her and the other kids with
autism and I remember my son, I remember the world I’m exploring, the one me
and their parents are still surviving. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
They say that when you discover that
your child has autism, you mourn even if he is still alive. You mourn for the
boy who can win scholarships, do a fast break in a basketball game and sit in a
coffeshop with a girl he likes. I have mourned that. But I have tried to move
on because my son lives in a different world, in a different dimension if you
will. He won’t be the boy who will go to fistfights or experiment with drugs
because he will have a more structured life. Maybe for that I should be
grateful</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
Sunrise and Rainbows… Treasures</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; tab-stops: 418.5pt; text-align: justify;">
It’s been four
years and in June it will be five. I would like to say that I have adopted
myself in this environment but no, everyday is still a minefield, an uncharted
world carved with unpredictable weather. Each storm still tests me. Each new
discovery marvels and dismays me. And I have no choice. I have to live here. So
despite the harsh terrain, I still load myself with pails of patience and
compassion, hoping that it could trickle down to my son’s parched understanding.
I shower it on him so he can thrive and wouldn’t escape to his own world. And I
cultivate his stubborn soil of sensory problems with gentle firmness to push
him beyond his perceived limits. If there is progress, it is slow and a result
of a multitude of embarrassment and hardiness.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; tab-stops: 418.5pt; text-align: justify;">
My wandering has
also not been fruitless because I am starting to witness magnificent sunrises
along the way, shading the sky with amber hues and orange shades. I have began
to hear stories of thriving autistic children, going to school, finishing
college and going to work. Moreover, new
words have also began sprouting in my son’s vocabulary like small leaves slowly
pushing itself out the dry soil. Heard
on television, he imitates these words with abandon. And after brushing his nose
to my hair, he now looks me and acknowledges me as Mommy. To be recognized by your child especially one
diagnosed with autism is a sparkling gem I clasp with care and treasured more
are the ruby red jewels forged by the words Love You Mommy, a priceless find
painfully dug from the dirt bed of autism. An added treasure too is his newfound
sense of empathy. He has began caring for his menagerie of stuffed animals and
toy cars with parental care, covering them with a blanket like children asleep and
feeding them cereals. He has started to step out of his world and I’m glad that
he has recognized me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
In addition to witnessing the
brilliant sunrises, I have also encountered bountiful rainbows in the gray sky in
the form of dog-eared informative autism books excavated from secondhand
bookstores and stories of new and alternative treatments. Being thankful for
these events is an understatement. It has given me renewed vigor that maybe I
may not be alone in this journey, that something or someone is leaving me clues
to find the right path to maneuver myself in this world. Moreover, new
encounters with group of travelers comprised of mothers, fathers, and
grandparents have also increased. Like feverish nomads finding temporary
shelter from blustering sandstorms, we exchange stories about our wards, our
struggles, our fears and our hopes. For a while, we feel like kindred spirits
not outcasts in the “normal” world.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
More than anything, I discovered a
lot about myself in this world, my ability to endure and survive even the
hardest emotional terrain possible. It has been a test of faith, of strength,
of courage. It is finding the good in the bad, finding treasure in the
catastrophe and finding hope in the midst of uncertainty. My son is only four
years old and I have been in the eye of the storms so many times and I know
this is still the beginning. I brace myself for more tempests to come, arming
myself with excavated knowledge, gathering firewood of support from friends and
family. Honestly, I don’t know what the future holds, the same way nobody does
but I’m preparing for it, mentally, emotionally and little by little
financially. It is my only hope that I can always take care of my son but I
know it is not always possible. So now I am I have decided to put my trust in
the basic goodness of people, the inherent part of our nature to take care of
the weak, the helpless, the visceral part that is still there, that even if I’m
gone there are still people who will care for him. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
And when I think about children who
won’t be diagnosed because their parents were poor or uninformed, I worry for
them. Without the proper early intervention, life can be harder for them because
I know how difficult it is to live with this disease and the financial and emotional
cost it entails. Undiagnosed and
abandoned, some of these children could wander the streets bathed in soot unable
to speak or chained in empty rooms labeled as possessed or deranged. So here
goes another part of this journey, to give aid to new travelers in this world, point
them to professionals who can help or just be a friend who can empathize and
cry with them when the asteroid hits. Maybe when they have learned to adapt in
this world, they can also witness their own sunrises and rainbows.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 12.0pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 12.0pt; text-align: justify;">
I’m still worried when I see the traffic ahead
but I’m no longer as terrified. I have learned not to let him control the
situation and let the fear engulf me anymore. I would tell my son to stop
hitting, fixing my eyes on him, drawing in the strength I have harvested from
this world and psychically implying a mightier force of nature within me. I enunciate
each word with a firm voice implying a threat of a thousand tornadoes if he
doesn’t cooperate and the tempest gathering in him weakens. There are still
some eruptions but I now counteract it with a cold front, freezing it down
until it evaporates and the sun rises again. Sulking in the back, fiddling with
his toy, I can now relax and smile as I realize nothing beats Mother Nature
even in the world of A. </div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-60097753746236829462012-03-20T19:28:00.007-07:002012-12-06T17:18:00.707-08:00Autism Stress comparable to Combat Stress<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqEq4kF4jZk14MeazqI85IX3SnYPTzAfbbFg11WWqAC4A_F0NnnpSesEXtEIqq0pXdH9cj98jD0bQYYO_DJc_JmGW8LgJOyQnJGxG5KnFo6HziCe3WbNgloiSng9ANgy1BD2B4SbcJg0/s1600/600full-combat-arms-artwork.jpg"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722174741008227106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCqEq4kF4jZk14MeazqI85IX3SnYPTzAfbbFg11WWqAC4A_F0NnnpSesEXtEIqq0pXdH9cj98jD0bQYYO_DJc_JmGW8LgJOyQnJGxG5KnFo6HziCe3WbNgloiSng9ANgy1BD2B4SbcJg0/s400/600full-combat-arms-artwork.jpg" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 320px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">" Parents of children with autism understand they endure constant stress, fatigue, and pressure, but they may not realize its severity or potential effects. In fact, a 2007 study from the University of Wisconsin-Madison found that mothers of adolescents and adults with autism experience chronic stress comparable to combat soldiers...." (p. 41, The Autism File magazine. Fall 2011)</span></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: 100%;">I can relate to that. But for me, it applies not only to parents with older children but to parents with younger children too like me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
Lately, I have not been doing a good job being a soldier. I have been guilty of giving in to my child’s whining so as not to upset the routine he has for himself. I know it’s wrong but his outbursts and tantrums sometimes equate to a bomb explosion and the rain of shrapnels come in as rude stares given to me in a public place.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
Yes, I get tired. Like I have recently. Bingeing myself on useless videos on the internet, reading juvenile blogs, wanting an escape. I know it shouldn’t but I’m only human. I get tired of the bombs. I get tired of the stares.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
I know I need to wake up and start the fight again. I have to tutor him again, release him from his routine. I have to be this duke it out Amazon again because it is for his own good. It is tough love.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
Summer vacation would be here soon and there would be no mainstream classes in a month. Of course, he’ll attend summer classes but still that one month would be a little brutal. I will have to find ways to entertain him or educate him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
I am a soldier and I get tired. It’s bad enough that I’m running away from the ghosts and challenges of writing and the now I have to get away from the hounds of autism. But I know I have to get myself together. I have to. It has kept me awake for many nights now. Somehow, when I sleep, the guilt pesters me, it mocks me, “You didn’t tutor him today, you didn’t write today. “ Damn, what’s a woman to do.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
Dealing with autism is hard work. It doesn’t get better. They will get older, more symptoms will arise aggravated by the usual challenges of growing up. I need to step it up. I need to, For his sake. My writing will have to distract me, nurture me, keep me sane from the hounds. Because not doing so would make me restless. It will bother me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-weight: normal; text-align: justify;">
I also need to have faith. Faith that I can go through this. It will take a lot of hard work, inspiration and dedication. And I will tell myself that I’m not alone. I may be attending Autism Society’s ABA workshop this coming March 31 to learn more about ABA therapy. I know it will help. So here goes the fight again.</div>
My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-91355875669693798472012-03-09T23:07:00.013-08:002012-03-10T00:01:03.131-08:00Mother's Distraction<div style="text-align: justify;"><span><img style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz68wQQO0NutrbWbMD3hG0DsQy_yhY6QxbWkAcKbJk_z276u25bJGM_3F3f5pT9X25YByWOZUwNgqT0KAoIaag8zQdK4zPa6qpXDjC7fEyzAI8Ry1Av1anhfxDILXAnEcJo576gJpl3CI/s400/Gedc4040.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718164191846595234" /></span></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left;font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-align: justify; ">I have been wrapped up in a juvenile undertaking lately, watching reruns of Gossip Girl particularly, the Dan and Blair episodes, taking away my precious time from my son. Why, oh why do I have to pursue such trivial pursuit? Maybe sometimes, I just need to escape.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: left; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><span style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; text-align: justify; ">I have been stressed as of late. So is my husband, so many expectations from so many areas of our life. We are being bombarded by so many challenges. But I know we will pass through it, with God’s help and our love and support for each other. We will triumph over these. Then I will try to disengage myself from this flimsy endeavor.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span>But why do I do that? Engage in something sporadic, dreamy like watching romantic videos on Youtube. Maybe I just want to escape sometimes. Because life with a boy who has autism can be quite challenging. Nothing you do seems to be enough.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span>I feel guilty that I have been neglecting him lately. I guess </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I’m just tired. I want to lose myself in my dreamworld even for a few hours. But I know I can’t always have that. I need to focus on my </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">son, tutor him. I know my attention will need to revert back to him again, I just need a break, a time to unwind.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtmXHoxYJAc7Mu1ysInrz5duN46WncphaTWjKnzrf83nwI1zG0CaSt1VhcrE0eSmdbYfnnFTncc5C4XUDW0DPWKPInuyLKHmbif5mWB4wa6N8hN4yTchlt7wpIvFeA3SvF8I3CZ79nbc/s400/GEDC1553.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5718164392551215954" style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: medium; display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">Because let’s face it, living with a child with autism c</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">an </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">be gratin</span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">g. It grates your heart and your soul. It does so slowly yet continuously. Everyday a certain behavior ticks you off, often you ignore it. But at the same time you have to confront and change it like getting him used to certain sounds that makes him go berserk. You have to identify what sound, smell, or object that is and make him adjust to it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span>But how in the world do I do </span><span style="font-size: 100%; ">that? Sometimes, it’s just so hard and all I you want to do is escape and never come back. But I’m not like that. As they say, I need to suck it up and move on. I have to do it no matter how hard it is. </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; ">I know I will confront these challenges again and I will have to show up at the testing stage again, to try and win in the battle of wills. But in the meantime, even just for a few days, let me have my sweet pair, Dan and Blair to distract me :)</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; "><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; font-family: Georgia, serif; text-align: justify; "><o:p> </o:p></p></div>My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-36432873005772930532010-11-02T23:10:00.000-07:002010-11-02T23:16:20.579-07:00Autism and heartbreakI never thought motherhood can be this hard. It doesn’t matter if you have an autistic son or not. The grinding and whirlwind activities of everyday is so grating at times. I remember having suicidal thoughts during the first six months of my son. While sitting on the crib, watching him sleep, I thought about slitting my wrists because I can’t take the hardship of waking up in wee hours of the mornings. I thought then that if this is my initiation to motherhood, I wasn’t sure I’m up for it.<br /><br />How I got through it is one of the hardest thing I have done in my life. Looking back, I’m glad I made it. But before the baby, the pregnancy already left me feeling utterly helpless. I never liked that feeling and I’m not even sure if I want to go through that experience again. And now with an autistic son, the experience of motherhood has taken a more challenging uphill climb.<br /><br />I wish I can relate to regular mothers with regular kids . But mine is not a regular one, this one comes not only with the usual challenge of childhood but it aslo comes with the uncertainty and unpredictability of autism.<br /><br />They say I shouldn’t lose hope, pray to God and He might grant me a miracle. I haven’t lose hope, I’m just taking it one day at a time. There is still a hope in my heart that he will grow up like a regular kid but I want to be prepared. I want to assure him of a good future. Yes, I’m scared what tomorrow might bring but I’m trying my best that he will be given the best love and care I can give him.<br /><br />With therapy sessions and mainstreaming activities and more speech therapy to come, I hang on to my faith and my sanity. Fiction writing helps. It takes me to a different world where I’m a different person, in a different time and place. Blogging also helps. It’s like I’m talking to someone who can relate to me. Writing is my ocean I can swim to when the real world is hard on my feet and my heart. I plunge into this sea of creativity of emotions, of feelings and feel myself refreshed, loved and accepted.<br /><br />Though writing is becoming more difficult with more chores and more worries about life, I keep on it as much as I can, snatching small pockets of time while watching my son play in the living room or when he is fast asleep, my favorite part. When I write, I feel human again, not an automaton of repetitive chores. I feel I have a voice again, that I can contribute.<br /><br />Autism has broken parts of me like a devastating heartbreak. There are moments when you forget about it but when symptoms of this condition rears its head again, you become reminded that all is not right in your world again. UnLike getting a glimpse of the man who broke your heart, this however, breaks your spirit. Because it is your child, you feel that nothing can undo the broken dreams you have for him. You grieve for his potential, for the boy who can talk to you and show you his dreams. But in time you learn to accept it. Like when the love of your life marry someone else, you accept that your son may not grow up the way you want it him, you realize that some things are beyond your control and you have to accept it.<br /><br />Turn your scars into stars. A profound statement that I will always remember, that no matter how devastating the situation is you have to find something beautiful out of it. You have to unearth the strength out of the sadness, to forge something unbreakable inside of you. I have learned something in heartbreak, that true love doesn’t always mean holding on, sometimes it also means letting go, that hanging on is being selfish, that loving someone means letting him find his happiness even without you. Yes, it hurts but it is the right thing to do. <br /><br />Sometimes, you really have to be cruel to be kind. And that is also how with autism, like praying for someone to come back, I also prayed hard to this condition will be erased in my son, that it shouldn’t happen to him. But I realized that maybe there is a reason why God gave him to me, why us, when we didn’t expect it. He wanted us to be his parents. Then along the way, the unfortunate things that life threw at us is something we can transform. That to get back at life you should form something positive out of it, that it shouldn’t break you down but makes you stronger. It should so the tears and the pain wouldn’t be in vain, that life will still go on and still be beautiful because of it or inspite of it.<br /><br />Autism tested my faith. I learned that prayers are not always answered and in time you will know why. My world have been shattered because of it but I’m also rebuilding it into something new, something different and something more beautiful.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-16528242876003506122010-06-01T02:03:00.000-07:002010-06-01T02:34:33.200-07:00Living life again after my son's autism diagnosis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUTbWogM4KoBVgouDsYleDRM8hk9fl2LG2PCZ-q87d28swwaPe-pHsJ3PL9l5lgIkosUQybyi8pspeFZDBTpzrhtlKsXEu57hgkrXgicKjN_BtzMTNNV2w7FoX8KG7iaVqzlj_j6NECE/s1600/sunflower3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 160px; height: 120px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkUTbWogM4KoBVgouDsYleDRM8hk9fl2LG2PCZ-q87d28swwaPe-pHsJ3PL9l5lgIkosUQybyi8pspeFZDBTpzrhtlKsXEu57hgkrXgicKjN_BtzMTNNV2w7FoX8KG7iaVqzlj_j6NECE/s400/sunflower3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5477735797125581490" /></a><br />I first made this blog to vent out any frustrations I had about motherhood and of course its joys. But little did I know that I would be facing more challenges as a mother. In January, my son was diagnosed with Autism Syndrome Disorder (ASD). To say that my world didn’t turn upside down is an understatement. My world did, like a big asteroid crashed into my world, destroying some of my dreams for myself and my dreams for him. I was almost in a state of depression, crying and praying hard. Finding interventions for him had been a struggle and still is because fighting something you’re not familiar with is hard.<br /><br />His temper tantrums are like little storms and sometimes great hurricanes in my life. Like someone who lives in a little island, I live defenseless in these storms with winds tossing and screaming, howling, while I stand my ground and hope that it will pass. I no longer live in a sunny and lazy world, my world is battered by such storms and I learn to survive these.<br /><br />There has not been a cure for autism. The high functioning ones will have to be looked after by someone for the rest of their lives. So you have to really prepare for their future, a future that can be uncertain without us parents. I used to have a bargain with heaven so he could live a normal life. Then I realized it’s futile to hope. Like a survivor in an open sea with only water surrounding me, I have learned to survive. Though there are little “directions” from above through books I find in book sales and people I suddenly meet that can help me, most of the time I’m on my own.<br /> <br />Sometimes, I still want to believe in miracles, that there is still a God then I realize that there are things I really prayed hard for that didn’t materialize, they say it was God’s will so I don’t know. I still sometimes hope but most of the time, I just cope. Believing that my son will become like a normal kid who can argue with me is a faint dream anymore because right now I am thankful for what is given to me, that he can already say mommy with a wide smile on his face and give me a kiss when I ask him to. It’s a small miracle but I’ll take it.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-6028052250712510412009-10-20T01:12:00.000-07:002009-11-26T00:56:52.791-08:00FreedomI never thought motherhood can be this hard. Sometimes, maybe I’m just lazy or I maybe I’m not meant for hard work. But this is a different kind of hard. With work, you can resign and leave immediately. But with being a wife and a mother, it is entirely different. It’s a different set of commitment. And there different aspects of yourself you’d discover. Moreover, there are things you’d do for your husband and child that you thought you couldn’t do.<br /><br />For starters, I’m no longer the neat freak- colegiala I was before. When you’ve washed a child’s little butt a thousand times, wiped off snot, saliva and cleaned pee on the floor, everything else is fair game. I’m amused that my husband wouldn’t touch my child’s dripping cold without a handful of wet wipes.<br /><br />Before my mommyhood days, I was a carefree individual with impromptu getaways with my friends and late night moviedates. I’m also used to having a maid when I was single . So when I got married I was culture shocked. There were moments of desperation then, wondering what happened to my life as I watched the toilet bowl flushing the remnants of yesterday’s dinner . And now, married with one child, with no maid and no monthly income , sometimes I just feel utterly useless, worthless. Maybe my Dad is sometimes wondering where all the college and MBA education he gave me had gone to.<br /><br />I'm sure he didn’t imagine me to be a full-time housewife. I didn’t either. I thought I would be a more worldly woman, devouring the sights of the world than a housewife washing the dishes. I thought I’d relish my freedom like a full-time bachelorette. Then I realized as time passed that maybe freedom is all in the mind. Maybe being free to do all the things that you want then come home to a cat especially when most of your friends are married with kids, maybe that kind of life will lose its luster over time. I just don’t know. Because right now, I just enjoy momentary bursts of freedom while my child is sleeping and I can write. Maybe I enjoy this freedom more because it is limited. I may be housebound but my imagination is free, in my writing I can run naked in the streets, explore the world in a hot air balloon, fall in love with exotic and dangerous men and climb the highest mountains and explore the deepest oceans.<br /><br />It is ironic that I had more freedom to write now than before. I don’t know why, maybe because I have finally granted this medium of self-expression to myself. Something I wouldn’t have done before because it’s not practical. And even if my domestic life has restricted me with other forms of freedom, I have finally reclaimed a different one for myself, my writing. It’s something that is mine and mine alone. I can be whoever I want to be, not who anyone dictates me to be. It has also added a different dimension on who I am, more than just a wife and a mother.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-24769581069231855942009-10-20T00:45:00.000-07:002010-08-01T19:37:07.305-07:00Rest for the wearySometimes, motherhood is a never ending list of tasks and things to be done. There are no day-offs,it's 24 hours a day and seven days a week shift. Sometimes, I just feel swamped. Even with just one kid. And after my maid/nanny left, I’m now stuck taking caring of my kid. My husband was terrified at the thought of not having any help before our help went back to the province to get married.<br /><br />And though it has been a struggle, we now have more bonding moments together, like two soldiers at war. We usually have to figure out how we can secure the package (the kid) safely and with less hassle especially when we’re outside the house, like the mall. We ask ourselves did we bring enough milk and diapers for him? Is he going to get grouchy again?<br /><br />And when I’m alone my toddler, I have to be on my toes and plan ahead. I have to check my supplies and know the fastest escape route when he suddenly feels like sweeping the floor lying down (translation: tantrums). Right now, he seems to be having some separation anxiety again and this makes it harder for me to leave him in play areas/daycare. Like my life is not complicated as it is, now he has to be a clinging vine. But despite all this, I’m glad I’m spending more time with him. I’m learning more about his likes and dislikes, and other things I didn’t know about him before. These are the highs of motherhood that we often forget especially when they behave like little banshees.<br /><br />I heard about a book called “Mothers need time-outs too”. They are so right. Small stolen moments of me time can rejuvenate any exhausted and stressed mother any time. Me, when I’m done with chores and my boy is taking a nap. I fix myself a bruschetta and listen to soft bossa nova tunes. I also look at the picture of the ocean on my desk. At least when he wakes up, I had my me time even just for thirty minutes to an hour. I feel like I’m just me again, not a wife or a mother, just me who can lounge around and read some paragraphs in a book with my feet up. It’s a small piece of heaven in my weary world.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1960770428296312159.post-87982696564446317482009-10-16T02:06:00.001-07:002009-11-26T01:02:53.365-08:00The challenges of motherhoodSometimes, life doesn’t give us what we expect. I’ve always thought that I’d travel the world alone and discover new things and new places in the world. I’d be one of those travel hosts going in different countries around the world. But as they say, God has other plans. I succumbed to society’s expectations for women. Get married and have children. When I got married, I thought I had the freedom I longed for, something I didn’t have in my father’s house, freedom from restrictions but now I realize that its something far different from what I expected to be.<br /><br />As someone who has been used to a maid, I found myself scrubbing the toilet floor and finding my hands getting rough from washing the dishes. Freedom had its price. I thought I was free but I was imprisoned in another type of prison, domestic responsibility. I was expected to keep the house clean and handle the house budget. I have been used to answering to myself and now I had to make compromises.<br /><br />Sometimes, I wonder when Cinderella went to the castle with his prince, was she tasked to head the servants’ house duties immediately, of course as someone who has been used to cleaning the chimney she would know something about this right? She was not treated like a princess but the head maid.Then as she was getting used to it, she had a baby. Now, aside from being a housemaid, she is a nursemaid.<br /><br />Of course, there are many women who love being a wife and mother. Or maybe they are lying through their teeth and just you want to be part of the warfront or homefront too. Though I agree that there are happy times but really now, it really is challenging. I wrote this blog for my own sanity, to share my happy, sad, exciting, exhausting experiences as a woman, as a wife and a mother. I’m not a perfect wife and mother, I do things that my husband hate and feed my child not so nutritious food. But hey, I’m still a work in progress like every woman, wife and mother is.My Autism Storyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17635146683282265119noreply@blogger.com0