When You Ask a Crystal About Your Child's Future (Autism Mom Confessions)
Plus: Free writing, manifestation work, and maintaining faith in the journey ahead
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I’m in the mood for it, so I though that I’d throw out my usual adherence to structure and indulge in some free writing instead…
I’m finding my footing more and more with this passion project of mine, and I surely have vision. Execution is even fun. I put the old UnCommon Momma logo onto a black T-shirt during a sale, and I love it. I wore it for two days in a row.
I know that my kids are the coolest little kids on the planet to me, they really are. I love being their mother. And I have always said that I feel honored by God for Him to trust me with the special two that I have. But on the weekends sometimes, I’ve had my fill of extreme parenting and I let my husband take over. Thank goodness.
My daughter’s echolalia has been stuck on repeating “Mommy Shark” at every prompt. My son’s stimming is grating my nerves, but it’s harmless and he’s happy. So I put up with it. I’m happy that the two are almost fully recovered from their RTIs, so I won’t complain about much. But I do feel a tickle forming in my throat now... Will continue to monitor.
I got the chance to go out alone earlier today, and I decided to buy myself a journal and some pens to use with my membership to The Pathway from To Be Magnetic. It’s nice to do a little something special for myself. I’ve already been filling in some of the pages in colorful blocks of my words, and I’m excited about getting more of this introspective work done so that I can manifest a better life for me and my family.
I, of course, wonder if I’m a good-enough mother to my children at every idle moment I have. I compare myself to my own mother and assess her failings to my own in order to see who is the worse woman. We both hold an equal level to each other usually, but sometimes she manages to prevail (at being worse, that is).
I consider if I’m spending enough time with my children in direct interaction. And then I wonder if I’m favoring one over the other. I take measures to not treat Colette any more special than her brother simply because she has a more typical expression in her autism symptoms.
I’m ginger in how I address them. I advocate for them so that others know how to respond to them (or we just make ourselves scarce to avoid the need to). I try to understand the possible motivations and drives that lie underneath the displays of their behavior. I research. My heart breaks. And I implement every new fact that I learn.
I just want the two to be happy at the end of the day. I just want all of us to be happy, and I wonder if a world exists where this is possible. I pray that mountains be moved and that this world is such a place, and I ignore the other possibilities as I resume my duties of caregiving.
See, the thing is that I’m certain that my children will both continue to grow and develop in ways that will make them successful as adults living in this world that isn’t designed for them. I know that they will get better. No one has more faith in this than their father, my husband, actually.
I even dowsed one day and asked my amethyst pendulum a serious question during a very desperate moment years ago when I only had Caleb. I asked it if he would ever improve in his functionality as I lamented his growing list of missed milestones. And I believed it when the crystal swung to answer me ‘Yes’…
…Free writing is so cathartic, as I’m now learning. I just want to wax on all about my world and open it up to the outside for all who would never know these things otherwise.
Because it takes a truly delicate balance to do what I’m doing here. A soft touch must be applied just right in order to keep everything moving forwards as it’s supposed to. I can’t let myself become lost forever underneath layers of motherhood. I can’t avoid reality presenting itself at every therapy appointment and specialist visit.
My general hope is that I just never give up trying to get this whole thing right, and in a way that feels good too. My children need me most of all. So you can’t stop, Cheniece. You can’t.
‘Don’t ever stop, Cheniece’ is what I’ll hear tomorrow.
Until next time,
Cheniece ♡
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