Month: August, 2014


I was reminded by the amazing Viv Fogel the other day of will. Or Will. The amazing Assagioli recognised Will as being vital to healthy living. It’s late and I’m not going to get too deep but I think Ifound a new level of will recently. God given. Doors opening and shoulders relaxing, getting stuff done and having the will to keep going for it. Through me not from me… That’s the key really though isn’t it?

Love or Fear

Ahhh yes I have been so reminded of this simple choice over these last few weeks. Love or fear. There is a choice. How easy it is to make all the major decisions from fear. How we have approached our response to my wee boys diagnosis of autism ostensibly from love but actually firmly rooted in fear. We must do anything we can so that he speaks I hear myself parrot out, from a warrior mum, advocating mum, thinking mum revolution – let me hear your voice kind of fighting talk mum (all names of books i soaked up upon diagnosis) We will go the ends of the earth, give up everything we own just to hear what you think or feel little one. Because we are scared. Scared he might never speak, that we will never understand this ununderstandable thing named autism, understand our own child and how he thinks, understand what has happened. Maybe it’s out fault, it must be… Injections, hormones, water, medications, drinking, shouting, smoking, ancient drug use, genes blah blah blah. All fear.

Love would be acceptance and well love.

It’s so bloody simple eh? Lol. But it isn’t it is bloody subtle in the busy old world. Sacrifice and suffeRing and unseLfish things are loving right? Hmmm maybe not?

I have come home a bit. I have read other people’s stories that haven’t quite fitted the paradigm of my little war on autism and how to rid my son of it. I am still committed to ABA but from love not fear. I will try and inject and inspire my tutors and my consultant with my new found lurve. Because ultimately, me a bloody side I want my lovely young son to be happy. Mike of course is still lamenting the curse put on his beautiful son. Sigh.

Every time I feel shitty, like today in John Lewis when CAnon was having a melt down because I wouldn’t let him open the box for the toy until we paid. Why I don’t know but I said he couldn’t and I had to stick to it. You are supposed to do that kind of thing as a parent right? Anyway the looks the judgements, the heat on my cheeks, I tried not to entertain the people around me and stay with my little lad in distress, firmly but with love. I felt rubbish, he felt rubbish. The lady at the till said he doesn’t like not getting is way eh? I said no not really but he has autism. Oh she said, we both felt a wierd relief. Doing my best, not going to be beaten by judgement and fear. Going to try and stick with the right and loving thing. I could make my life easier, who would know? Just me, the baby and Canon don’t care. The people in John Lewis would not have had to hear a very loud shouting Canon. What is the right thing? Lost sight but I am determined to find the right loving thing for us.

After John Lewis we had an excellent time at clown town. Fantastic. We chased each ther round on our hands and knees. That is more like it. Happy days.

I am determined to remember to come from love not fear in every part of my life. To reach out with love and possibly get it wrong but better than to sit back and not do anything through fear… To do things because you are so scared that your little boy is not normal will surely not end happily. To love and accept him and embrace him has got to be the happy place to be.

Coming from love. Simple but often not at all easy.

Mother to mother

I was talking to a friend today about Canon and I realised I have shifted gears. Not sure from which to what still but I don’t feel as anxious, and as I’ve said before out of anxiety I tend to overdo things, so am in less of a fight, flight and gogogo mode. It’s good I think. And paradoxically of course I am merrily getting quite a lot done. Funny that. Canon hasn’t changed and I’ve already become jaded at any miracle cures having spent the last few years chasing every one. I am also starting to see Canon in a different light. Less of a guilty, heart wrenching agonising white accusatory spotlight glare and more of a heart warming glow. I am blessed and lucky to have my boys. I know that from the bottom of my heart.

The world is feeling very threatening, Ebola, Isis, Russia, Palestine & Israel. It’s in the field. I think everyone is feeling it. My lovely friend who has lost her beloved son Eddie. Horrible harrowing details of a world so vicious , unrelenting and heartbreakingly cruel are ever present. I am thinking of all the mothers tonight longing to feel and hold their babies, no matter how much they have grown. It is not mine to feel today but I am feeling an ache for them and their loss. Powerless to bring comfort. We are all just a moment from this place, the worst most unimaginable pain, finding gratitude to not have to face my worst fear today seems wrong somehow but I know it’s the truth. I am a better person, a better mother when I remember and know in my heart how others are suffering and that i have been blessed today.

Your Children Are Listening

I never want my son to feel this he lights up our life. Maybe I should tape this to the fridge.

The journey

One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began,
though the voices around you
kept shouting
their bad advice–
though the whole house
began to tremble
and you felt the old tug
at your ankles.
“Mend my life!”
each voice cried.
But you didn’t stop.
You knew what you had to do,
though the wind pried
with its stiff fingers
at the very foundations,
though their melancholy
was terrible.
It was already late
enough, and a wild night,
and the road full of fallen
branches and stones.
But little by little,
as you left their voices behind,
the stars began to burn
through the sheets of clouds,
and there was a new voice
which you slowly
recognized as your own,
that kept you company
as you strode deeper and deeper
into the world,
determined to do
the only thing you could do–
determined to save
the only life you could save.

By Mary Oliver. My hero.

Precious Identity

This was the title of my MA in jewellery design. Yes ok an MA in jewellery design is not exactly rocket science but I really enjoyed doing it and it was actually pleasantly important for me to find deeper levels to my chosen profession. So back to our precious identity, a topic close to my heart.

I am thinking a lot about identity again today. I’ve been listening to Israelis and Palestinians justifying their actions on radio phone ins (i know i should just listen to bloody pharell or something fun) and reading blogs by adult autistics and parents of autistic children for the last hour or two. I read an amazing very thought provoking blog here..
And I got to thinking about myself and how I grew up. I relate to so many of the feelings adult autistics express, the shame, the trying to be normal, a feeling of just not being ok, of being good enough. All these things shaped me but when I read them expressed so eloquently by adult ‘autistics’ I suddenly can’t quite grasp the prism of reality that i feel familiar with and again its not simple for me where autism begins and ends. Great that I can relate, empathise and connect. A gift. But it leaves me feeling unsettled. Much better and more comfortable to have a probleM to solve than to be with the sticky mess of a life to live out. To deal with my own feelings in all this is hard. So enticing to stick to the “warrior mom” “advocating” and “fighting” than sticky messy mum bumbling along. Trying to hash out a good life for the imperfect family now steadily careering towards adulthood.
Bloody yikes.

Anyway back to identity (again ) it is the psychosynthesis model that has helped me to see clearly that with which I identify and that with which I form my identity. Through my identifications. Now if I had been given a label – autistic, Israeli, Palestinian, Muslim, (just my topics of interest today mind) from a young age I too would feel all that I have heard or read today. I would be identified. And through the nature of identifying I would dis identify with something else – in this case – a-typical, normal, Palestinian, Israeli etc
Again possibly not rocket science but to me quite simply profound.

When we make the conscious or unconscious choices to identify as or with something we are just as surely closing the door to the other. Over identification always pisses me off, in so many forms. No no no no no no. When i think of all the gorgeous young men I’ve met who act completely gay in every damn stereotype of the word arghhh I want to just sit them down with a nice cup of tea and tell them I think there is more, so much more to the story. Not many people reallt give a shit what you do in your sexlife. Anyway I shouldnt rant, should not judge, none of my damn business. Except pain seems to just tug on my sleeve and I just can’t seem to pass it by. And that is what it seems to me that over identification and not consciously exploring what you believe and hold so close as to shut others out causes – pain. I was lucky I believe not not be bought up in a religion, it has been an interesting journey exploring religion from the outside looking in. I see the beauty but I see the pain in not belonging or agreeing.

But where on earth does it leave you when you try to identify with everyone? When you don’t want to make choices that shut the door in someone’s face? Not sure. It’s probably impossible or highly disfunctional or maybe just very Buddhist lol to have no identifications however subtle, but to just be prepared to let them go for a little while and see how it feels to walk another path. That’s the order of today. I will not judge but i do just wish I could sit a few of those Israelis and Palestinians down for a nice cup of tea.

“The truth you believe and cling to makes you unavailable to hear anything new.”
Pema Chodron

I will try an remember this in every way as I raise my sons, especially the one who could become a word. Autism.