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Why did it happen to me?
I have it all, a beautiful wife, my own business, money in the bank, surely there is some sort of mistake, this wasn’t the plan.
For 13 years now, I have “managed” emotionally and physically my son’s Autism, from complete novice to now a self-proclaimed expert. I have gone through every emotion on this journey. I can spot an Autistic child from 100 meters.
I take him to school, cut his food, help him in the shower and wash his hair. It can be very draining when he is still awake at 2:00 a.m., or when he bites himself so hard that he cries and I have to soothe his anger with cold water and an iPad.
I am jealous of typical teenagers who have freedom, opportunities, a girlfriend. I want that for my boy, I want him to drive, to play sports, to go to University. I deserve this.
I am tired of having to be ever-vigilant, watching for others reactions, reacting to a snide comment with a stare or angry words, stress levels going through the roof.
They weren’t expecting that reaction as I fume internally, ruining my own day. A pyrrhic victory, they think I am a madman.
When I am asked how I am, I say I am fine. Luke is fine. Work is fine. Fine. Fine. Fine.
Why burden anyone with my woes, my fatigue?
Why embarrass myself in front of others?
Show weakness? No chance. Can’t cope? Not me. I laugh at Autism. It can’t beat me.
Luke has me. He doesn’t need anyone else.
You need to give him some opportunity to develop I am told, but what if he gets hurt, what will I do then, I will have to pick up the pieces—surely better not to let it happen in the first place.
What happens when I die? Who will look after him? My daughter? I can’t burden her with a disabled adult—what will I do? Too many unanswerable questions.
I can’t be angry forever. I will learn to be mellow, and Luke will develop at his own pace and find his place in this scary world that doesn’t understand him
The journey will continue, hopefully, we will both develop and enjoy our life and strive to live a happy life, if it’s just the two of us, that’s OK.
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Photo: Getty Images