Saturday, January 29, 2005


I'm tired tonight and, once again, feel like I'm struggling for air in regards to my son. I'm not accepting him. I realize that. I don't want him the way he is: full of constant cough, full of anxiety, full of sociological issues. I would like him to be made whole, God, without autism, without anxiety issues, with physical health, with a sense of belonging in this world. Why him? Why us?
These thoughts are wrong; so many Christians accept and see things as gifts.
Women have told me, "Look, he's a special unique gift."
Yes, he is, and I love his smile and natural curiosity and humor.
But, sport Saturdays are hard. We have him in an Upward Basketball non-competitive team.
I sit in constant tension, especially when I see his uncontrollable anger, or hear his insults, or see people staring oddly at him. I took him into a private closet once because he ran off the court due to frustration.
And then, tonight, we tried to get him to sleep in his own room, but he sits up in bed petrified, anxious, asking to sleep on a small blue couch in our room. He cries; we yell; he yells; we cry.
Things are hard for him, and for us.
Perhaps it's time for an Asperger support group?

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