Asperger's Syndrome & Why I am Ashamed of Myself

Characteristics of Asperger’s Syndrome tell us that those with the disorder do not show emotion or that they demonstrate inappropriate emotion.  How foolish of us to assume that just because we cannot see it, it does not exist. 

For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a mother.  I was one of those little girls who wanted to play with nothing but baby dolls.  To this very day, I still have my treasured “Pouty Baby”.

The road to becoming a parent was not easy but when the day finally happened and I held by beautiful baby boy in my arms for the first time, none of that mattered anymore.  He was perfect.  The child that I had carried inside me for 9 months, who I felt kick and hiccup relentlessly was more beautiful than I could have dreamed.

But there were things that didn’t seem right as he got older and when he was three and a half, I was called into pre-school and told “we think there is a problem.”  And thus our journey began…our journey with Asperger's Syndrome.

From the age of 2, my son was an outsider.  He lacked the language skills of the other children.  He could not socialize like the other children.  He had narrow interests and the rules of play had to be his rules of play.  In his mind, there was only one way to play dinosaurs, only one way to put Thomas trains on the track, and only one way to work a puzzle.  No other way would do.  That kind of behavior did not bode well for him socially and therefore, it resulted in many disagreements among his friends and generally the loss of them.  Of course, at age two, we did not know he had Asperger’s syndrome…we did not know at age 3, 4 or 5 even.  He was just considered a bad kid.  Spoiled.  And I was a bad parent.

When my youngest son was old enough to be of age to play and socialize, he did not have these problems.  I wondered why, if I was a bad parent, both of my children did not turn out the same way.  Surly if I had bad parenting skills then both of my children would be the same way.

For years, I would go home from pre-school and kindergarten and weep while other parents went off with their children to play groups to which we were never invited.  My son had no friends.  I took my child to school every day and children would say “hi” to their classmates but no one said “hi” to my son.  I put myself in situations where I subjected myself to hearing children and even adults say very hurtful things about my son.

But the person who should be most ashamed of themselves is ME.  Even though I did everything I could to help my son, I failed tremendously.  I read books and research.  I volunteered, coached sports for him, substitute taught and had as many social gatherings as I could.  I got him the best medical evaluations I could.

I am ashamed because in looking back, I see all the things I did wrong.  And there were plenty.  Recently, I witnessed a child who I suspect to have Asperger Syndrome be berated for approximately 10 minutes by two adults.  The child sat expressionless as most children with Asperger’s Syndrome do.  In observing this, I saw myself and my son.  So many times, when I wanted so badly for my son to just do what every other child did so that we all could just fit in, I would go on and on and on at him.  He sat and took it….showing no emotion.  And I took the lack of emotion as a sign that he did not “get it”…that I was not getting through to him…so I kept going on and on.

Well, the day I witnessed the incident of the child and the two adults, the child later said to me “I don’t want those to ladies to ever hurt my feelings again.”  And I knew then that despite his lack of emotional expression, he took in everything they said to him and so much more.

And ever since then, I have not only grieved for that child, but I have grieved for my son and what I did to him countless times when I thought he did not get it.  People want to tell me I have done a good job.  No.  No, I have not.  But, I tried to do a good job. I have made many mistakes.  I did not and still do not know what to do most of the time.

I have learned a lot about Asperger's Syndrome, other people, friendships and me.  And to be honest, the best person involved in this whole thing is my son...and if it isn't him, I know it certainly is not me.

I will close how I opened...Characteristics of Asperger’s Syndrome tell us that they do not show emotion or that they demonstrate inappropriate emotion.  How foolish of us to assume that just because we cannot see it, it does not exist.

Knowing When to Quit

In life we all have battles to fight.  Sometimes we win. Sometimes we lose.  And in some cases, in some  battles we have to know when to just simply give up and wave the white flag.  And that is where I have a problem.  I just don’t seem to be able to recognize that point or willing to stop before the cost to self has outweighed the value of the war/battle.

I have been aware of this problem of mine for some months now…and yet I still cannot seem to find the line of when to quit.  I don’t want to quit.  And I think this is why…

I was born into and currently live a day to day life where I have no choice but to fight and never give up a battle that has no end and there is no winner.  I am used to it.  Quitting is not and has not EVER been an option.

My father was an alcoholic.  Every day, especially when I was in my teen years and he was retired, life was a battle.  And every day, I got up and faced it with courage.  I went into various smoke-filled bars full of drunken men and women looking for my father late at night so that my mother who waited in the car could give him a ride home to avoid a DUI or car accident… that took courage for a little girl to do.  I dumped his booze from time to time…that took courage for a teenage girl to do.  I lied in bed after having been awaken while the state highway patrol were outside my bedroom escorting my father to his bed letting him off the hook from getting a DUI…I wish I had the courage to tell then to take him off to jail because eventually things just got worse.

He is dead now.

But I fight every day still.

I fight for my son.  Having a child with Asperger Syndrome has not been easy.  I fought to try to “fix” him…but that did not work.  Then I fought to make a safe zone for him and well…that did not work.  I fight to try to understand him better.  I fight to help others to understand him better.  I fight others to help understand how I am trying to make his life better in the long run and not just make him happy in the moment.  I fight and I fight and I fight…and I have NO CHOICE but to keep fighting.

And quite honestly, I cry a lot and I look at that as a sign of weakness.  But when I really think about it and take a deeper look, I think that it really is NOT weakness but just that I am tired.  I am a very strong person to have to do the things I do and to keep getting up every day and doing them.  Especially if you really, really know me then you do know my strength.

So, aside from that…in other things, I guess I should be quitting some battles…Wave the white flag and surrender.  Give up the cause.  Apparently I have to learn HOW to recognize when to do that and then take the first step in doing it.  Unfortunately, that might be the easy part.  Some battles mean many things and quitting isn’t always just quitting.