You know what I have found to be the most upsetting and terrifying thing about autism, not only for myself but for others that I have talked to and observed? It’s not the diagnosis that devastates us, it’s the prognosis. The autism itself doesn’t scare me, doesn’t frighten me, doesn’t crush me. It’s all those things I’m told they cannot do, won’t ever be able to do, that wears on me.
I have never been the one to let others define myself or my children. I am a glass half full kind of person and I rarely ever lose hope. That is why I will not ever give up on my children. Why I will never find myself subscribing to a prognosis of life-long struggle and a bunch of “nevers.”
That is why I do what I do. Why I am constantly looking for ways to help my boys. Why I am at every conference, meeting, webinar, etc. Why I surround myself and my children with others who believe as I do. Why I give my all to my children and leave little for myself. It’s my middle finger to the prognosis I was once so afraid of.
I don’t see doom and gloom. I see possibilities. My children are capable of learning, loving, and living. All I see was that I had two choices, I could either accept a prognosis that depressed and devastated me, doing nothing for my children because apparently nothing could be done or I could say “f*ck that life of never” and do something for my children, to help my children.
As long as I draw breath, existing in a space of “never-dom” will never be good enough for my children.