What I Didn't Expect

I have a huge imagination.  I love writing short stories and poems and once, a novel, which still needs a good going-over. So usually, in any given situation, my mind will run off on tangents while I think up several different scenarios that could possibly apply to the reality that I'm experiencing.  Example:  Husband is late coming home from work.  The most likely explanation (Ockham's razor applies here, always) is usually the accurate one.  But what my brain does is this:  He got mugged by a group of masked men in a van.  Or, he got in an accident, and he's struggling to text "I love you" one final time.  Or, he decided to go to a movie, on a whim.  All of this is silly, and none of it ever applies.  So I've learned to tell myself that since I'm the one imagining all of this garbage, none of it is probably true.

While all of this stuff was going on with Logan, I imagined all kinds of things.  I didn't have any experience with group homes.  What I didn't expect was going to the group home today and finding this calm, smiling young man who I call "son" greeting me at the door, playing with his older sister for an hour, and then telling me that yes, he likes it there and wants to stay, and that yes, he likes his teacher at school, and that now it was time for mommy to go home until next time.

I'm thankful and flabbergasted because beyond my wildest dreams, this turned out better than I could have ever hoped for.

The other thing I didn't expect was that what a hard time I would have adjusting to this.

Now, before I hear a collective "duh" from everyone...you have to understand.  Our lives have been seriously limited, as a family, in what we could and could not do for a long time. We're talking years.  Brian made an excellent point.  It wasn't that one of us couldn't go out and do something, it was knowing that we were doing it at the expense of someone else that made it so stressful.  If I decided to leave for an hour or two, things at home might go well, or they might go horribly wrong.  There was never any way to tell.  If Brian decided to work late, he did that knowing that I had to hold down the fort that evening and hope that no meltdowns occurred.  Doing other things, like going to the movies or shopping or things like that, were completely out of the question.  It got harder as the years went on.  This is not an uncommon occurrence for parents who have children with autism.  Couples often experience a splitting apart, emotionally, as they each build separate lives but meet in the middle to put out the fires.  It's draining, emotionally.  You simply can't go a lot of places that neurotypical people go because the world is not made to be kind to or accommodate children with autism.

Now that I have clarified that, this is what was unexpected:  Over the weekend, my husband and I went out to eat.  We left the baby with her older brother and sister and we ate whatever we wanted and did not rush and then we went shopping and came home.  It was fun and we felt a little giddy afterward.  The next day, we piled the kids in the car and we took them to the mall and we got something to eat and we visited some other stores and didn't get home until after dark.

But as the evening wore on, while we were walking and looking at things and having a great time, I started feeling anxious.  I mean, I could feel it growing in me and knew it was anxiety, but I felt confused because nothing bad was happening. I kept thinking, we shouldn't be here, I really have to get home, but there was actually no reason not to be doing what we were doing and no one was home except our dogs. So I ignored it.  But it was still there.

By the time we got home I felt completely overwhelmed.  That may sound strange to some people, but the entire weekend...shopping, and eating out, and going on an actual, un-rushed, un-stressed date with my husband...was so abnormal to me.  I felt happy.  No one got upset because I went somewhere.  No one yelled at me when I got home. Saturday morning I slept in and no one cared.  It was strange.  And so Saturday night, by the time we got home, I went in my room and called my mother and asked if I was supposed to feel happy.  I know, that sounds incredibly stupid.  But I felt so confused.  I felt guilty for having a good time!  and said, Logan can't be here.  And my mother summed it up perfectly.  She said, I think you feel sad because Logan is not the type of person who would enjoy those things, and you wish it was different.

And yes, I do wish it was different.  With all my heart, I wish that this wasn't an issue, that things did not have to be this way, but I'm also grateful that because they are this way, Heavenly Father made a way for all of us to get what we needed and be in the best situations possible.  The fact of the matter is, he is happy.  He is more calm and stress-free than I have seen him, ever.  My daughter said, on our way home, He isn't angry anymore.  And that was a huge part of it.  He is in a situation now that caters to what he needs and he can build a life the way that he wants without watching people come and go around him, doing things that he will never be able to do.  He can finally breathe.  And one day soon, maybe I'll remember how to do that, too.