Running As Fast As I Can

Filed Under (Acceptance, Anxiety, Autism and Intelligence, Movement Disturbance, Sensory Differences) by Estee on 25-03-2012

I’ve got days when I worry about Adam and how his distress is for him. The one thing that’s the most difficult for me to cope with as a parent is watching my son go through distress. Any parent wants to take a cold or the “thing” that’s distressing unto themselves instead of on their child. As I try to experience the journey with Adam, I’m going out for a jog for him (he’s with his dad this weekend). It’s part of my new regime of not just being with him, but helping him cope with his buzzing, moving body. I’m running as fast I can so I can be with him.

I was really upset with myself on Thursday. Typically, we go to a grocery store after school and we try to do a different errand every day. When we went to the store, Adam reached for the candy. I let him put in in the basket. When he wasn’t looking, I put the candy back on the shelf. I’ve done it before and he hadn’t noticed. Did I think that he just misses things? Had I devolved to that? We continued our shopping for healthy food and went to our usual check out lady, Leda, who always has time for Adam. Leda is like my island of calm and acceptance at the checkout as more people stare at us lately. We chit chat and she talks to Adam in between his jumping and hand-flapping. I’m not going to stop Adam from hand-flapping (although there’s enough pressure from those glaring eyes that I often think about it) and there’s no reason to explain him in a check-out line, so people will just have to deal with it, okay? Sometimes if Adam’s hands are occupied, he won’t flap, but there’s something in me that hates doing that for the sake of not being stared at! This is but one aspect of Abelism we live with every day.

When we got home, Adam helped me carry the grocery bags into the house. He’s good with hauling weight now and I think it must be good for his active, buzzing body. “Groceries!” he implored and the crinkling of plastic bags sounded urgent. Adam looked through every bag over and over again. “Grocery bag!” he said, looking at me, then quickly moving on in his search. I realized he was looking for the bird-egg blue gummies he found on the shelf. When he couldn’t find them, he began rummaging through all my kitchen cupboards, since I tend to hide food in odd places so he won’t keep eating the junk.

“Oh Adam, I didn’t buy the gummies. I put them back,” I said. He wasn’t satisfied, and kept looking. “No Adam, mummy didn’t buy the candy,” as I tried to stop his frenzied body from moving fast from cupboard to cupboard. Adam’s face looked desperate, his anxiety mounted quickly and I was worried. “Here Adam, we have lots of candy. Have a gummy bear.” I pulled them from the top shelf, hoping this would satisfy him and I could sit him down to dinner, because when he’s hungry, he becomes more anxious. He pushed them away. “No….groceries!” he insisted. He tailspinned.

I felt horrible. How could I have been so sneaky and put something back on the shelf without telling him either no, or showing him I was putting it back? I know I have to always work on myself as autism mom, no matter how much I think I accept my son. I have to respect him more. During the flatspin, though, I found the parachute. It was music. When I could coax his writhing, lanky body onto my knee, I held him and sang. I got a smile. Then, we ate dinner.

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About Me


ESTÉE KLAR

I’m a PhD candidate at York University, Critical Disability Studies, with a multi-disciplinary background in the arts as a curator and writer. I am the Founder of The Autism Acceptance Project (www.taaproject.com), and an enamoured mother of my only son who lives with the autism label. I like to write about our journey, critical issues regarding autism in the area of human rights, law, and social justice, as well as reflexive practices in (auto)ethnographic writing about autism.