...11 (in days gone by)...

In Days Gone By:
22.October.2016

Some stats first:

• I'm 5'8" minus my beloved heels, and 120 lbs. on the nose according to the bathroom scale.
• Weighing in at 137, and a whopping 6'2" is my little man, J-Bug.
• I can lift those 137 lbs. for about a minute, and do so every morning when doing his joint compressions.
• His shoulders are now so broad that I can no longer reach across him to do X-hugs, which for years were the best way to give him instant proprioceptive relief.
• My 120 lbs. can still pull his 137lbs.
• But don't provide enough resistance to push those same 137 lbs.

Ok, got all that?

Last night was an eye-opener, panic-inducer, heart-breaker.

We'd gone to Target (gotta check the toy aisle for new Transformers on the regular!), followed by the grocery store. At some point along the way, this Mami totally missed the early warning signs (because it's been so long!) of an autism-meltdown. (go ahead and google that...we're not talking toddler tantrums. Think danger to self and others)

Now, in years past, this gal would have been on top of that, right? First sign and we're out...nope, erase that...I could spot those potential triggers a mile away and would grab and dash. Usual Target scene: Leanna carrying J-Bug in a dead lift, legs over one arm, head hanging off the other...kicking the cart with her feet. Good times, folks, good times.

Fast forward several years...Wonder-Bug has adapted his sensory therapies to real world situations, and learned to block out many of his triggers. And I, apparently, started blocking them as well.

So here I was, blissfully ignorant and getting frustrated with his non-responsiveness in the grocers. But-still-not tuning in to my autism radar apparently.

Instead, we headed next to the burger place in town. The crowded, loud burger place in town where I placed our orders while he sat at a table, head down on his arms.

Satisfied that my g-free, grass fed, mushroom-avocado dinner was being prepared medium rare, I filled our soda cup and headed to the table...

Where...

Finally...

I noticed that something was...

Well, something was shaking, quaking, quivering...something, my someone...was so tensed up that his shakes resembled a seizure. Completely uncontrollable.

Ding Ding, we have a winner! Finally something for me to notice, right?

Quick dash to the register..."we're heading outside", then a struggle lift from the chair and drag to the door. Outside into the dark patio. (Where the rockstar staff delivered our food!).

Ears covered    FAIL

Head squeezed    FAIL

X-hug FAIL

Lift and rock FAIL

Full body squeeze FAIL

We came directly home, half-eaten dinners tossed, and I was able to calm him with soft favourites and steamrollers (literally now he lays across the bed while I roll across him).

An hour later, he snapped back into b-mode (better mode).

A morning later, I'm still a nervous wreck.

--------------

Yes, he's brilliant. Handsome and charming. Witty to boot. Yes, he's an awesome scholar and artist and cellist.

Yes, I post a lot about the 'wins'.

But, make no mistake...autism is not easy or pretty, or a carefully selected series of smiling photos. That's part of it, sure, yes... But it's also this...

A mother rendered useless by nature's joke on size.

Onlookers staring, whispering and catcalling when a young(ish looking) woman has a (man sized) boy draped across her body on a patio bench in the dark.

A thrown away shirt, since in his panic and struggle he tore the side seam of my t-shirt wide open.

And this morning's whimpery wake up when his whole body hurts because of last night's shaking.