He gets so much help at school, he cannot regulate himself, he scripts, he stims, he has PICA, he spoke almost entirely in movie quotes until he was well over 4, he makes fleeting eye contact, his social pragmatics are so poor he couldn't even get a a score and yet I wonder. Yet somewhere inside I wonder if it's in my head, if he really is fine and it's me who is the mess.
Then we have nights like tonight, along with days like today, and weeks like this week that remind me like ice water in my face that, yes, he is autistic. I don't want to negate his struggles by saying "well he is high functioning" because every time people hear that they think "it isn't too bad then"
But days like today SUCK.
Weeks like this SUCK
and I don't know what to do. I can't be a super hero.
I don't want people to think I am always negative, or always sad, or hopeless. I know tomorrow could be better, but I don't want to get my hopes up.
All I can say for this evening is Thank God for Chance
Sammy fell asleep and woke up nasty. Screaming and crying, curled in a ball and rocking. He couldn't stop. We tried a snack, we tried some sweets...nothing.
Then Chance came in the room rested his head against Sammy and instantly Sammy stopped , snuggled in the Chance and was giggling at the "pee fountain" he made a few seconds later (in the bathroom). He flipped out over his homework and again Chance sat beside him. He was calm, he got it done.
It isn't times like this that I doubt his autism, it's the good times. When he tells me a story that makes sense, or when he really connects. Those moments are a gift and instead I allow my emotional baggage to come in take over and create doubt. People that know him don't doubt his autism... but all these years later I still do.