To the People We Cannot Protect

My son has autism spectrum disorder. I accepted a long time ago that a lot of the days along this journey were going to be hard. But sometimes I still cannot believe just how hard it is. Just how much we have to endure every single day. The obstacles and barriers and accommodations are never-ending. There is not a break or a rest. It is one moment at a time; every minute of every single day.

It is hard. And it is sad. And it is so incredibly lonely some times.

There are moments you try to prepare yourself for. But at a certain point you accept that you will never be ready for some of the things this journey will ask of you. So you toughen up. You take a deep breath. You stand taller than you feel. You give more than you have. You fight harder and faster and stronger than you want to. Because losing is not an option.

Parenting a child on the autism spectrum requires a kind of tough that I did not know existed before my son was diagnosed. I used to think that there was a limit to the amount of tough inside of a person. That at a certain point everyone had limits. That there was only so much pain and strife and struggle that one person could manage. That after a while it was just too much to ask of one person. And so the person reached their limits. They waved the white flag and asked for a break.

But, there is no white flag for autism. And, there are no breaks. There is just day after day. Obstacle after obstacle. There is achieving new and deeper levels of tough every single day.

Sometimes my son is physically aggressive towards other people. Sometimes he hits because he is happy. Sometimes he pinches because he is trying to get a reaction from someone. Sometimes he pushes because a loud noise scares him or catches him off guard. Sometimes he hits because he does not understand the feelings or emotions of another person. Sometimes the reasons for his physical behaviors make sense to me, but more often they do not.

And no matter the reason or cause for his behavior; sometimes he is physically aggressive towards other people, and sometimes  other people get hurt. And seeing that aggression is one of the toughest parts of this journey.

Today someone that we care about was hurt. Someone who we invite into our home. Someone my son considers a very close friend. Today she was hurt. Today my son hurt her. And I am sad. I am sad and frustrated and confused. I am so sad for our friend. Sad that she was hurt. Sad that she may not understand why. Sad that despite my nearly 3 years along the spectrum, I still do not have the words to explain this to her. I am sad for my son. For the remorse and confusion he feels. Sad for the anxiety he feels when we talk to him about his social behaviors. I am sad for my family. For the long and lasting impact autism will have on all of our relationships. I am sad for the people in our life. Sad that I cannot protect them. Sad that they need protecting. Sad that I feel sad.

And I am just so sorry.

I am sorry every time someone else is hurt along this journey. I myself feel hurt by this journey more often than I care to admit. And I am sorry to anyone else who experiences that alongside us.  

I am sorry for the physical pain. And I am sorry for the emotional pain. I am sorry that I cannot do more.  That I cannot protect you from the behaviors. From the autism.

I see you. I know what I am asking of you. I know that standing beside us means navigating something that you do not understand. Believe me, I know that well. I know that sometimes it means enduring the worst parts of the autism. I see you. And I am so incredibly thankful for you.

And, I know I already ask so much of you.  But I need to ask something else of you…

Don’t give up on us. Don’t give up on him. 

I know you do not know him like I do. I know you do not love and cherish him the same what that I do. But he is good. He is so good and sweet and wonderful. And inside of his beautiful messy brain he is trying to make sense of things. 

I promise you that I will work with him and talk to him every single day. I will never stop teaching him about kindness and being a good friend. And, it is only because of the incredible friends and family and support that surrounds us that I can show my son what to strive for.

I see you. And you see us. I am sorry. And you never ask me to be. Don’t give up on us. And I know you never will.


2 thoughts on “To the People We Cannot Protect

  1. Christine Herzog says:

    Yes…I too know the desire to be a human shield. My son just transitioned to Kindergarten…a huge step in our journey and we managed. After a rocky start things were well. Well enough that mom got comfortable and began to enjoy the routine. There was just opportunity to accomplish things that haven’t been done in five yrs. I was beginning to scope out where to return to the workforce that I left in order to take my son to preschool. And then an event happened. Not even a month in…An event I so would have liked to have been that human shield. The school no longer wants him there. Because I let myself get comfortable…it is a blow that really really hurts. Thank you for sharing your moments good and bad on your journey. It really helps. It just does.


  2. mindyb781 says:

    Never give up. I remember when my son went through the hitting phase when he didn’t have words to communicate. He still doesn’t have many words, about 60. Our ABA was able to help us with the hitting and he no longer does. There is hope. I know you feel awful but you should not have to say sorry, your son didn’t do it on purpose. Sending love.


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