You can. End of Story.

endofstoryWhile the focus of this blog entry is on Bryan, the title could apply to Bryan, me and basically anyone facing a goal. Bryan is 17 and is an extremely capable young man. I don’t say this flippantly or casually because there is absolutely nothing casual or inadvertent about where he is today.

About 13 or 14 years ago, when we first learned of speech and language delays, among other delays, before we got the big “A” diagnosis, we went to meet a speech therapist who was considered a guru in dealing with “these kids” and our pediatrician arranged an appointment. Bryan and I went and she was a very business like specialist who asked me a bunch of questions about him and his development. For the next hour, no joke, one hour, she sat on the floor with Bryan and played with him, using Sesame Street character figurines and a playset with slides and activities for the figurines. I sat in the room on the chair holding my breath and and trying not to cry or vomit-again, no joke. What would this woman say after this hour? What was she trying to get at? It was all so unfamiliar to me and terrifying. It was not the first, but it was the beginning for sure, of what would become a long road for Bryan, a long road for our family, and a personal journey for me. After the hour she let me know exactly what she thought. I can remember being in my skin at this appointment as if it was an hour ago. She said here’s what I think: “He’s in there. You will need a tremendous amount of therapy over many years. There is no magic pill; you cannot throw money at this to make it go away. You also need to use his strengths when getting him into schools and programs. You are lucky, he is a very handsome and engaging little boy. If you go to a program, take a photo with you, but don’t take him. You don’t want anyone judging him by his behavior at one meeting.” I listened intently as if the Dalai Lama was imparting the key to life to me. Since this was a long time ago and still very distinct, you know this had a huge impression on me. I feel emotional just typing this and remembering how I felt in the car trying to process all of this info. I won’t take you through the timeline because many of you know it, but it was solid, no bullshit type of advice, including the part about how he looks. It was a crash course in “put your big girl pants on lady, because this journey is not for the weak and you better realize in short order that if you don’t get cracking and face up to reality, you’re screwed”. That’s Janespeak for what went down and for the talk I had and continue to have with myself 14 years later. I am quite fortunate, as is Bryan, that his father was always and is always on board with whatever is best for Bryan, and literally has no ego when it comes to him. Men often shy away from these kids and their issues which can make things worse; but that was never the issue. We were and are still of the same mind when it comes to Bryan: You can. End of Story.

It would be so nice to say that Bryan is now a Phd student at Harvard and has outgrown autism and everything is perfect and rosy. That is certainly not the case, nor the goal. However, the goal has always been and will continue to be that if you work hard and set your mind to something, goals are not only achievable but are inevitable. Kudos are offered up to Bryan and his desire to do well, to learn and to please. What the general public cannot or does not understand is that special needs kids work so damn hard at everything and every moment and task is evaluated. “Gee Bryan was great at lunch last week.” Oh yeah, well how was Jason? I know it’s unfair but imagine your life was one big report card. It’s tough. The one thing I do know is that the most important thing we can give to Bryan is his sense of pride, his sense that he can do and be whatever he wants, without regard to a timeline. And for the record, autism still sucks. Yes, I am grateful for the life lessons, yes I am grateful for Bryan growing up in slow motion and still allowing me to kiss him and hold hands in public, and yes I am grateful for the love and support from some of the most unlikely people. The anxiety that Bryan experiences as “his autism” still thwarts some of his progress and still tests even the most patient of people. His impulse control issues and his language delays still impact him and us regularly. While he feels complex emotions which can be learned from his behavior and some language, his expressive self is still highly challenged. So while I suppose I can and do appreciate the progress, the lesson must always stay in the forefront for both of us. You can. End of Story.

 

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2 thoughts on “You can. End of Story.

  1. That line about your whole life being a report card really hit home. That’s us, too

    Russ

    >

  2. So that was a particular pet peeve of my mom. She never liked anyone to be evaluating and commenting on him and how he behaved in any one instance. I know people are just trying to help.

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