There are tears of joy and tears of pain and then there are tears of pain that bring joy.
Sounds odd, right? Well, when it happened to me it felt even more wired.
At 14, being non-verbal and autistic must really mess you up more than ever. That’s where my son is right now. The teen years and his hormones have been difficult for him to handle and that has resulted in behaviors that I am not able to manage without professional intervention. Consequently, I decided to get him into intensive behavior therapy, hoping we would be able to sort things out for him and understand how to help him with all that he is going through. These therapies would last for 1.5 hours and to put it lightly, it was not something I would take him back to. I could tell he did not want to be there either but I wanted to trust the process so we went along anyway.
Since the therapy fell during school hours, I would pick up my son from school and take him to the clinic. It was like any of those days that I was picking him up from school. The school’s parking is right next to a mildly busy street. As I walked my son to the car, he suddenly took off towards the street. I tried to get hold of him but he slipped out of my grip and I fell and skidded on the hard concrete, bruising myself badly. Lying there in the parking lot, for what seemed like an eternity, I watched my son run into oncoming traffic, still giggling. It felt like my life was moving in slow motion, every moment lasting a lifetime and weighing heavy as if waiting for an impending disaster. I gathered myself again and ran after him, shouting his name and pleading for him to stop, hoping all the cars would see him in time or hear my yelling and know to hit the brakes.
Thankfully a pedestrian noticed this and stopped the traffic while I scrambled to catch my son who was still running, finding all the commotion even more exciting! He was 14 and strong while I, a middle-aged mom. So, I finally got hold of him only when he decided to stop, probably after his excitement had weaned off and he no more found the chase fun.
Holding him tight, real tight, this time, I walked back to the car, my heart still thumping in my chest. As I reached my car, I saw my son’s teacher and his aide rush to us. Someone from the school had seen what unfolded in the last few minutes and probably had informed them. I was trembling when they approached to check on me. They asked if I was ok and it was only then that I realized that I was bleeding from several placed and bruised all over. The adrenaline rush and the possibility of how badly this could have ended had numbed my sense of pain. While I suddenly became aware of my pain,my son stood next to me still a little wound up and slightly giggly, completely oblivious of the repercussions of his behavior- a stark reminder of how autism can overwhelm his senses and disconnect him from the rest of the world at the same time.
Once I was calm enough to drive him, we went back home. On my way back, under the echoes of my son’s muffled giggles, and the slow trickle of my tears, I wondered if he tried to escape because he did not want to go to the therapy and had no other way of getting out of it other than try to run away. I felt helpless for him and his inability to communicate and have control of his own life. His giggles now made sense- they were nervous laughter. Yes, that’s what it was. I was sure about that now. I canceled his therapy and took him home.
As we settled in, I realized that my bruises needed attention, so my husband drove me to a pharmacy. While he and our son waited in the car, I went in to get some help. That’s when my husband decided to have a conversation with my son, explaining to him what happened and how his actions got me injured. A few seconds after he was finished, he noticed our son silently crying and quietly wiping his tears. When I came back from the pharmacy, I could tell from the expression on my husband’s face that something big has happened between when I left the car and now. As he recounted what led to our son wiping his huge tears, my heart swelled with joy!!
In the 14 yrs of his life, except when he was a baby, I have NEVER seen him cry with tears !!!! These were not tears of “I didn’t get what I wanted and I am going to throw a tantrum “. He evinced remorse for what he did. These were tears of regret, of feeling sorry, and of owning accountability for the consequences. These were tears of empathy!!! He was dealing with complex emotions, and I couldn’t have been more proud of him for processing these feelings so appropriately!!! I know these feelings must not have been easy for him to navigate. After all, it was his first time!! It was a rare glimpse into his heart and how he could feel and I could not be happier that we got to see this side of him.
Who said autism takes it all away!!! Autism can try as hard as it wants, but some battles we will win. My son could empathize and cry!!!! What a great feeling it was!
Autism-0, my son-1 !!!
