To Tell or Not to Tell

    This blog entry is dedicated to Michele.  Michele's son just celebrated his second birthday and has been diagnosed with PDD.  Thank you, Donna, for introducing us.  Michele, thanks for the inspiration. 

      As I prepare for a new school year, I find myself reflecting upon the past two years since receiving the big AD (autism diagnosis).  I often find myself thinking about the early days post diagnosis.  The time in my life that I consider "The days of darkness".   It would have been so easy during those days to continuously slip down a self pity slide.  A slide that just brought you deeper and deeper into a  pit.  It would have been easy to float around on a cloud of denial.  A cloud that was fluffy, white, and never produced rain.  It would have been so easy to live in a house of grief.  Where you could choose to spend most days crying.  When I close my eyes and remember those days, I see the self pity slide.  I see the cloud of denial.  I see the house of grief.  There were weeks that I floated around on that cloud of denial.  Why?  Maybe if I stayed on the cloud then the AD would go away.  Maybe my life would be perfect being a cloud floater.  The house of grief was exhausting, so most days I tried to get myself out of there.  The ride down the slide was ok some days.  Some days it gave me a numb feeling, some days it gave me an empty feeling.  It just helped me to forget about the house and the cloud for a while.  There was also a time when I took shelter in the cave of guilt.  The cave was dark and dreary.  It was not a fun place.  Some days, I found myself hiding in the cave, using it for shelter. All of these things were part of my life during those early post diagnosis days.

     The question that always came to mind during those days was, "To tell or not to tell?".  This is a question I struggled to answer each and every day.  Should I tell people about Gavin's autism?  Should I not?  It's now that I can say that each mother handle's their child's AD differently.  There were days that I wanted everyone to know. There were days that I wanted no one to know.  There were days where I left the house of grief, slid down the self pity slide, floated on the cloud of denial, then took shelter in the cave of guilt, all while juggling the question in my head, "To tell or not to tell?"

     To the mothers who just heard, "You're child has autism.", it's your choice to tell or not to tell.  Eventually, I stopped juggling the question and answered it.  I chose to tell anyone I encountered.  I chose to tell family, friends, and colleagues.  I even chose to tell strangers.  Telling people also came with a price.  That price included comments.  Comments that made me feel great about it.   Comments that helped me embrace the diagnosis.  Comments that hurt, and comments that made me feel like I was being judged.

     Now a days I continue to answer the question, "To tell or not to tell?"  I think this question will always travel along this journey with me.  Some days I choose to tell people, some days I choose not to tell.  This weekend we went to Walmart.  Taking Gavin to a store has been disastrous lately.  I usually come home exhausted and find ways to not bring him or just don't go.  Well, I made him a social story that he could visually look at and listen to on his iPad.  It basically told him where we were going, my expectations of him, what we were going to buy, and what his reward would be.  As I was checking out, he was helping me place all the items near the cash register.  I looked at him and tears began rolling down my cheeks.  The cashier asked me if I was ok.  Should I tell?  Should I not tell?  I chose not to tell.  My boy was successful in that moment.  I told her I was great and left it at that.

     This is a question that I will have to continue to answer along my autistic journey.   How I choose to answer the question is my choice.  One question that I will not have to answer is, "Will you spread awareness?"  It is now my mission to spread awareness.  Awareness that autism can enter any family.  Awareness of what it may be like coping, living, and functioning as a family with autism.

     As I prepare to enter a new school year, I see a roller coaster.  A roller coaster that I am getting on.  A roller coaster that consists of high points and low points. The ride is scary some days.  The ride is fun some days.  Most days it is unknown when the next hill or drop will come  It will have its ups and downs. It will consist of flips and turns.  In the distance I see the self pity slide, the house of grief, the cloud of denial, and the cave of guilt.  I wave to them in the distance.  They call my name.  I yell from the distance, "Hello, old friends.  I am taking a ride.  It was good to see you!"  I turn and step onto the roller coaster, look back for a second, wave goodbye, and smile.

Riding the coster,
Paula