Autism is Cool

I thought, just now, how I want to take a day off and read, “Getting Things Done” and organize my office and be like this super duper-organized getting things done person.  Then, I imagined myself going through files and planning and executing projects and I thought, “Maybe I don’t really want to get things done.  Maybe I want to sleep or go to Palm Springs and have sex with my husband on my parents leather couch and have nothing I have to do for ten days except buy a toenail clipper.”  And I felt bad about this cause I want to be one of those super duper powerhouse women who shine and go and do and cure their kid and their house looks really good and they exercise.  But I guess I really don’t want to be a super-organized powerhouse woman cause then I’d have to be really organized and work hard and be centered and energetic and ambitious and single-minded and never give up.  And I get tired just thinking about going to breakfast with a woman like that and I just want to get the check quickly and go home and read an Agatha Christie novel and have some hot tea and a cookie.

I thought, what I should do is get really super duper religious instead of super duper organized and efficient, then I can just pray for stuff and really believe it will happen and I’ll have such faith that my stuff will work out that I don’t need to be good at anything to be happy.   I thought about going to Temple and I don’t really want to go to Temple because there are these cranky complaining judgmental Jewish people there.  Also, it doesn’t help me be connected to God to be lectured on how I don’t go to Temple enough.  So then I thought about this cool Temple that the Dali Lama created in Atlanta and goes to like every ten years.  But it’s kind of far away and I don’t like driving.  And the last time I looked on the Atlanta/Dali Lama Temple on-line calendar, there was a lecture scheduled about Generosity.  And I don’t really want to go to a lecture about how to be generous, I just want to get what I want now.  Basically, I just want to help Cal.  So, how do I do that in the fastest, easiest possible way?

So I’ve done the third eye thing and it seems to be working.  We have all these chakra energy points in our body.  One is sorta in between our eyes on our forehead — it’s intuition.  The Third Eye.  I’ve gone on google images and put this violet chakra image of the third eye on my screen saver.  So, now,when I don’t know what to do, I just very quickly and easily ask my third eye and make a decision.  So before I played with Cal in the playroom an hour ago, I was doing the dishes.  I visualized my purple third eye and said, “How can I help Cal now?”  My third eye said, “Believe you are a great Mom and you are doing a great job.  Believe whatever it takes to help you.”   So I started putting away the glasses in the cabinet and I’d think, “Wow, I’m such a good Mom and wife taking care of putting away the dishes.”  Then I played with Cal with the belief that I’m a great Mom and I was so much more fun than I was before.  Whenever, I wouldn’t know what to do, I’d ask my third eye and there would always be a good answer.  It just opened me up to being a lot sillier and more creative.  I ended up having fun with Cal tying a rubber band to the window which I attached to a stuffed animal monkey so it looked like the monkey was looking out the window.  The monkey thing started because Cal kept saying he wanted to pick up his brother from school.  So finally I pretended the monkey was his brother and picked the monkey up and somehow ended up tying him to the window where the monkey still hangs.

I was lying on the table while Julia rubbed unscented oil all over my naked body.  The phrase, “The Art of Suicide” appeared in my head.  I thought it would be a good title for my blog but I didn’t know what to write after it. As the massage therapist rubbed me, I said to Schlomo,(not out loud), “Schlomo, what is the art of suicide?”  Schlomo is my friend who recently killed himself.  You can see his Yale Law School commencement speech to his class on YouTube.  It was a great speech — funny, smart, self-deprecating.  He beautifully made fun of the impotency of the American legal community.

As Julia rubbed unscented oil on my naked body, I had the following conversation with my friend, after he killed himself.

ME:  Schlomo, What is the art of suicide?

SCHLOMO:  The art of suicide is to know that it’s not wrong to kill yourself.  I know that now that I’m dead.  If I had known this before I died, I wouldn’t have killed myself because I wouldn’t have been so ashamed and I would have talked about it.

ME:  OK Schlomo, but what does this have to do with me?

SCHLOMO:  You are worried that when you go home, everyone will quit.

(Note:  I have a team of people who play with my autistic son at our house.  I train them and pay them to help my son grow.  At the time of this conversation with Schlomo, I was on vacation.  For several years up to that point, every time I went out of town, someone would quit.  Usually, I would be having a relaxing time somewhere beautiful, I’d check my email, and one of my emails would be someone who plays with my son quitting.)

Schlomo continued, “You’re scared that everyone will quit and you’ll have no one to take care of your son and you’ll get really depressed and kill yourself.  So, now you know, if you get really depressed and kill yourself, that would be OK.  It’s obvious when you are dead that suicide isn’t right or wrong, it just is–like anything else.  We all know that up here.  So, you won’t be so afraid if everybody quits and you won’t be so tense.  You can relax around them and then they’ll be freer and more creative with your kid and he’ll recover faster.  It’s not wrong if you wanted to kill yourself, even if you did it.  It’s fine.”

I cried on the table and asked Julia for a tissue.

Not judging suicide has really helped me be a better manager.  I came home being lighter, freer, clearer and much more effective with my team.  My son is flying!  Thank you, Schlomo.

(2nd Note:  If you’re freaking out now and thinking, “No!  If you say suicide isn’t wrong, everyone will go and kill themselves, including you.”  I believe it’s the opposite.  When I don’t judge killing myself as wrong, I’m less likely to kill myself.   When I’m not judging myself, I make clearer and more conscious choices and I’m happier.  So, if I have suicidal thoughts and I don’t judge that, I can notice it and choose to let it go.  I can choose not to do something, without thinking it’s wrong.  I don’t want to go to Canada, but I don’t think it’s wrong to go to Canada.)

It started out good.  I decided to try being authentic (see last post, “Cheese and Authenticity”).  I thought authenticity would help me have better health, more energy, and more intimate and safer relationships.

First, I told someone something I had been holding back and they were very nice about it.

Second, I told someone else something I hadn’t said that I was thinking.  That person was neutral about my authenticity.  I felt good and happy letting it out.

Then, I decided to show someone a potential blog post where I talked honestly about them.  They were really angry and threatened to end our relationship.  I was really depressed after that and decided authenticity is not fun.

Then, I realized that I have inner strength — that I’d be OK even if people were mad at me.  So,  I tried being authentic again.  The other day, someone said they were fat and I agreed with them.  The person got very upset and said, “You think I’m fat?” It was really hard for me to see them so upset.  Even though I believe they are fat, I felt horrible for calling them fat.

The whole thing about authenticity is, it only works if I’m OK, even if people get upset or are angry with me.  I don’t know if I have the stomach for true authenticity.  Maybe someday.  Now, I’m doing authenticity half-assed.  I’m happy being authentic only if people react well.

Maybe someday I’ll be more comfortable being authentic.   I’m learning to be OK with the fact that I’m not willing to commit to being authentic.  And I’m having fun being able to have perspective and observe myself.  It’s fun experimenting.  Having this awareness, sort of outside of myself, makes me feel lighter.

For lunch yesterday, I went to Alon’s Bakery in Atlanta.  I had this beautiful French salad with cheese, lettuce, pecans, onions and balsamic vinagrette.  For dessert, I ate a cup of rich chocolate mouse with whipped cream and chocolate shavings.  It was delicious!  The problem is that I’m sensitive to dairy and wheat.  I’ve noticed when I have dairy and wheat, my ears clog up.

We have an oxygen chamber in our bedroom.  It’s a long white tent on our floor that I go into most afternoons with my son.  It’s helping him with eye contact, energy, language, and initiation.  Normally, during this time of the year, I’m a little depressed and lethargic.  I’ve noticed when I do the oxygen tent with my son, I’m energetic and happier those days.

The hardest part of the oxygen chamber is what it does to my ears.  My ears are very sensitive and the pressure is like going on an airplane.  Sometimes my ears hurt when I’m in the tent — especially if my ears are stuffed up.  Yesterday, after my delicious French salad with cheese, my ears were very stuffed.  They hurt yesterday, when I was in the chamber.  I had a headache all night.

I know it will help my son more if I don’t eat dairy and wheat, and I’m able to go in the chamber more because my ears are clear.  However, I have a hard time giving up these delicious foods.  My son is on a sugar free, very low carb diet so we have no starches at all in our house — not even carrots nor fruits.  When we have a babysitter for a couple of hours, I want to flee and go load up on all the “No’s” in our house.  So, I’ll have a big meal of sugar, starch, wheat and dairy before I go home to our house of chicken and kale.

Today, I spent some time knitting while listening to Barry Kaufman’s CD, “Radical Authenticity.”  He talks about how most people believe being authentic can be dangerous because people may not like you for what you say.  However, he said that lack of authenticity, is actually dangerous, because stuffing all of your thoughts leads to illness and disease.  I thought, “As opposed to giving up cheese, maybe I’ll just be authentic.  That’ll get rid of my stuffy nose and ears.”

I went in the oxygen chamber with my son this afternoon.  As the pressure was building and I felt my ears pop, I decided to be authentic.  For less than a minute, I told Cal everything I was feeling as it was happening.  I figured, “He’s autistic and very sensitive.  He already probably knows what I’m feeling.  It couldn’t hurt to tell him what he already senses.”

I said, “I’m doing guilt.  Now, I’m doing shame.  Now, I’m doing love.  Now, I’m doing gratitude.  Now, I’m doing happy.  Now, I’m doing ‘I’m a bad Mom’.  I’m doing grateful.  I’m doing upset.  I’m doing love.  I’m doing happy.  I’m doing guilt.  I’m doing confused. I’m doing unhappy.  I’m doing clear.  I’m doing love.”

Cal didn’t look at me like I was crazy.  He had amazing eye contact during my 30 seconds of authenticity.  I felt close to him.  I did eat dairy and wheat today.  My ears felt fine during and after the chamber.  Hours later, I feel great — No headache and I’m not stuffed up.  So, the next time I’m with you, maybe I’ll have a pizza and tell you what I really think.  It sure beats cancer.  Hopefully, you’ll love me for who I really am.  If you don’t, it could be an opportunity for me to find out.  Then I could choose to surround myself with people who actually love me without my masks.  That would be a really safe feeling to be with people who know the “real” me and still love me.

I did something weird after a party last night.

I was getting ready for bed.  My husband and I were recapping a party we had just attended.  I mentioned two people I had chatted with at the party, and my husband said, “They clearly don’t like you.”

I knew they didn’t like me.  It was obvious by how they acted.  What was unusual, was, that I was OK that people didn’t like me.  I wasn’t upset.  Normally, I would obsess about how it was my fault or how I could make them like me.  Last night, I just accepted it.  I actually felt peaceful, about the fact, that people didn’t like me.

This is what happened before the party:

I have read that you should always bring something when you visit someone’s home.  It can be a gift or good wishes.  Before the party, I decided to meditate to bring good wishes to the people at the party.  I dug out, from my desk drawer, a crumpled and well-used zeroxed-copy from Deepok Chopra’s book, “Synchrodestiny”.   It has one of the ancient Indian Sutras, “San Kalpa” with several English mantras like:

“Imagine that your intention can heal those who are not well.”

“Imagine that you can bring success to those who are failing.”

“Imagine that you can bring hope to those who are feeling helpless.”

So, I sat on my couch with my piece of paper and imagined all the people that would be at the party in relation to the Sutras.  As I imagined helping my community and friends, my mind drifted to myself.

I imagined healing myself who was not well.  I imagined bringing success to myself who was failing.  I imagined bringing hope to myself who was feeling helpless.

I could feel myself changing.  I felt my eyes water.  When I went to the bathroom, to blow my nose, I realized something important.

Yesterday afternoon, I had tried writing this blog but was having trouble.  The problem was, the title of this website is “Autism is Cool.”  For the past several weeks, I didn’t believe autism was cool.  I was mad at autism and wanted the fucking journey over already.

For several weeks,  I’ve wanted to be the kind of person, who is grateful, hopeful, and loving.  What I actually felt was — bitter, angry and hopeless.  In the bathroom, after meditating, I started to accept the way I felt.  As opposed to wishing I were a strong, confident and inspiring leader, I decided it was OK that I was acting and feeling depressed, hopeless and uninspiring.  How I was feeling, no matter how unattractive, was perfect.  My bitterness about other people’s success — perfect.  My sad, lonely feelings during the day with my son — perfect. My anger towards the people who I pay to play with my son — perfect.

I felt such peace last night.  I began to accept and love all the “ugly” things about me.  After the party, I was peaceful about the fact that there are people who don’t like me.  I was able to do this, because I’m liking the parts of myself that are the most “unlikable”.

Today, I no longer feel bitter and hopeless.  By accepting and loving my “unattractive” feelings, they went away.  What I did last night and today, is the foundation of what experts for years have been telling me to do to help my son recover from autism.  Dr. Stanley Greenspan talks about the importance of helping children become comfortable in expressing ALL of their emotions(happiness, anger, sadness, excitement).  The Son-rise program we do with our son, is based on the concept of accepting and loving our son for who is right now, as the most effective way to help him.

I’m not sure exactly what will end up being the thing that helps cure my son.  However,  I know that right now, it feels really amazing, to not judge myself for feeling crappy.   It feels like taking a warm relaxing bath with God.

I am tired, really tired. Last night I went to sleep at 7pm. The past two days, this guy came to my house and helped me to change my brain. Raun Kaufman, who runs the Son-Rise program and used to be autistic, flew here on Sunday to train me and my team.

Raun told me what other big autism experts have told me before: If I want to help cure my son, I’ve got to be way more energetic, enthusiastic and exciting in the playroom.

So after Raun suggested I be more energetic, I thought, “Fuck – I can’t do this. I’ve been told by different people for the last eight years to be more energetic. If I’m not more energetic by now, it’s not happening.”

Raun asked me if I had ever been energetic with Cal. I said yes. Raun asked me why I didn’t think I could be energetic with my son considering I have done it before. I said I haven’t been able to do it consistently before. After many hours of our consultation, Raun said, “You’re saying you want to be more energetic with Cal, but you are building a case for why you can’t do it.”

He also said that after talking to me often over the last two years, he noticed that I have a pattern. I’ll say something is good for me and then give arguments of why I can’t or won’t do it. For example I’ll say, “I think I would be happier if I believed I’m a good person and didn’t need other people to say I’m a good person in order for me to feel good.” Then, I’ll list and argue many reasons why it would be dangerous if I didn’t worry about what other people thought about me. (i.e. I would argue that if I didn’t care about what other people think of me, I wouldn’t have any friends. I would say, if I didn’t worry about what other people thought about me, I would say things that would hurt other people.)

It was like a nice smack in the head. I want to actually believe and do things that I say are good for me, as opposed to argue why I can’t do them. I now believe I can be energetic with Cal in the playroom. I let go of the belief that since I couldn’t be energetic with Cal consistently in the past, I can’t do it now. I now believe I can really do it. So after I let go of my belief, I could really listen and be open to Raun’s suggestions about how to be more energetic. He suggested I celebrate Cal a lot more often and enthusiastically when Cal looks or talks to me. Raun said what he does is, when a kid looks at him, he doesn’t think, “I should celebrate now.” Instead, he feels grateful first, for what the kid is doing, and then the celebration comes more naturally. I did that the last two days and it really worked. It wasn’t hard work for me to be excited about Cal, when I was focused on being grateful for what he was doing(as opposed to thinking “I should celebrate him enthusiastically now”).

Thank you Cal – You got me here. At thirty-nine years-old, I have changed my brain and the way I think. And because of you, Cal, I believe I can continue to change for the rest of my life, no matter how I was before.

This morning I went on facebook to write my status update and I saw something really scary.

One of the principles of Son-rise (the home-program we do to help our son recover from autism) is celebration.  We celebrate Cal when he talks to us, looks at us, or plays with us.  Celebrating our son helps us to feel grateful for his interactions and also helps to motivate Cal to interact with us more.  In a Son-rise blog, they suggested we celebrate ourselves each day on our facebook status to practice celebrating.

This morning, I did yoga and afterwards I felt calm and peaceful and wanted to celebrate myself.  I started to write a quick phrase about it on my facebook status but I got distracted.  I saw all these old pictures of my friends from high school on facebook.  I was scared.  As I clicked open each picture to make them bigger, I thought, “Oh my God, I’m going to have nightmares tonight!”  I didn’t have a Carrie-like high school experience.  Nothing really bad happened to me in high school.  I had friends.  So how come when I looked at old high school pictures this morning, I felt scared?

This week I’ve done an amazing job of playing with my eleven and a half year-old son.  The other day we were in the backyard and for the second time that afternoon he charged at me and tried to scratch my face.  My husband has a big scratch mark on his face.  A young beautiful woman who plays with Cal also has a long red mark on her cheek.  When Cal tried to scratch me, I  handled it beautifully.  After talking to him calmly, it came out that he was just trying to communicate with me.  Right before Cal attacked me, he tried to tell me to turn off the fan.  (The noise was hard for him.)  Instead, of saying turn it off, the words came out, “Leave the fan on.”  After Cal tried to scratch me, I played the happy detective and after talking we discovered that he really wanted the fan off.

Yesterday, I touched Cal affectionately at breakfast.  Cal touched my face and pushed it slightly.  Instead of me flinching and freaking out, I said sweetly, “Cal, I noticed you pushed my face a little, I don’t know what that means.  If you tell me what you want, I can help you.  What do you want?”  Cal said calmly and clearly, “Stop.”  So I stopped touching him and got really excited that he used his words.  I jumped up and down and did several pelvic thrust dance moves and sang about how cool it was that Cal said, “Stop.”

How can I be fearless about my autistic son scratching me but I give myself nightmares after looking at old high school pictures on facebook?

One of the answers is that I’ve done lots of dialogues about Cal scratching me.  I’ve paid for many consultations with doctors and other professionals who have helped me explore my feelings about my fears about my son.  I’ve also done many dialogues and consultations with the people who work for me and play with my son at our home.  I’ve helped these wonderful young people explore their feelings and fears about Cal attacking them.  However,  I’ve never done any personal exploration about my fear of high school facebook pictures.  Until now.

Here is the dialogue with myself:

When I looked at pictures of my friends from high school this morning, why did I scare myself?  (One good dialogue question I ask a lot of people who play with my son is, “What are you afraid would happen if you weren’t scared of Cal scratching you?”)

So what am I afraid would happen if I wasn’t scared of high school pictures on facebook?

I’m afraid I would write nice comments to people about the pictures.

Why am I afraid of writing nice comments to my high school friends about their pictures?

Because I’m afraid I’ll get close to them and I’ll get hurt.

Why am I afraid of “getting hurt” by my high school friends?

I spend a lot of time teaching this concept to the people who play with my son.  The concept is that you can’t make someone feel a certain way.  Everyone is responsible for their own feelings.  So my friends from high school could do something that may inspire me to feel “hurt” but it’s my own choice and responsibility whether I feel hurt or not.  The thing is, I don’t know if I’m ready to take on that responsibility of being in charge of my own feelings.  I feel vulnerable that way.  I’d rather believe my high school friends are bad if I feel hurt.  (I laughed.)

Why am I laughing?

Because they’re not bad.  But it makes me feel better to believe they are bad if they aren’t including me in their friendships and activities.  When I believe my friends from high school are bad, I don’t feel as bad that they don’t want me.

How do you feeling saying that?

Good, I’m feeling a little tearful like I probably do this a lot where I judge other people for being stupid or shallow or “bad” because I don’t want to get hurt.

So what are the tears about?

(As I’m crying) I don’t want to do it anymore.  I believe I can still take care of myself and not hurt myself even if I’m open to loving everyone and not judging them.  But I’m actually a little fearful saying that.  I’m picturing someone I know who was raped and when she told me I comforted myself by thinking that that wouldn’t have happened to me because I would have known that that man was “bad” and not trusted him.

(Now, I’m crossing my arms and closing up again.  I laugh.)  Why am I laughing?

Because I just noticed that I stopped myself from crying fully and crossed my arms and closed myself up so I wouldn’t let go of the belief that “I need to believe certain people are bad or stupid in order to protect myself from getting hurt.”  Then I gave myself this worst case scenerio –”If I were OK with looking at my friends facebook pictures, I would be raped.”  It sounds so ridiculous.   But I am a little afraid of letting go of those judgments because they keep me safe.  Which is bullshit.  I could be loving and happy and clear and peaceful and not put myself in potentially dangerous situations.  I actually believe that when I’m happy and loving, I’m more clear and can take better care of myself.  When I was in Mexico and this taxi driver tried to molest me, I had spent the whole time talking to him in a way that was desperate and lonely.  It wasn’t like I was being open, vulnerable, loving, clear and happy.  If I was feeling more comfortable, my guess is I would have been more clear about my boundaries and I may have better protected myself.  (Not that it was my fault.)   I don’t believe that if I were more open, loving and fearless about looking at high school facebook pictures, I would be more likely to be raped by a taxi driver.

What I realize now is that when I’m open, happy, loving and less fearful of people, I am stronger.  So physically, I’m less likely to get hurt because I’m more comfortable expressing what I want and setting boundaries.  Emotionally, I am safer because I am putting the control of my feelings in myself, not other people.  And I can make myself feel happy and safe in a moment.  It’s actually less scary that way because I am in control of my feelings and not other people.  I can easily make myself feel however I want.

I just realized that I was happy, loving, open and clear with Cal this week and I didn’t get scratched once.  It’s safe to be open, loving and accepting to people.

This morning something pretty amazing happened.  I’ve thought about it over and over again and I still can’t quite believe it.  But it’s true.

My eight year-old “typical” son was standing in the doorway of the kitchen saying how much his teacher hates that people believe nothing happened before Columbus came to America.  We talked about history and science.  Then, my eight year-old asked my husband, “If you could be in any time, what time would you be in?”    As my husband tickled my son, my husband said, “I would go to October 18, 2009 so I could tickle Oscar.  Present moment, wonderful moment.”  My husband looked at me like, “Top that one!”

So I thought about going back in time.  Would I go back to when I gave Cal all those antibiotics for his ear infections?  Would I stop Cal from getting all of those vaccinations?  Would I make sure my epidural wasn’t so strong so that I wasn’t numb while pushing?  Would I not give Cal bottles and not give him milk as a baby?  My answer was very clear and centered.   I wouldn’t want to go back and change anything.  That’s the amazing thing that happened this morning.  I decided, that given the chance, I would not go back in time and do whatever I could to prevent Cal from being autistic.  The main reason I wouldn’t go back and change any of those things is because when I pictured the idea of Cal never being autistic, I imagined myself being fat and unhappy.  I pictured myself being fat because I used to eat a lot of crap and watch a lot of TV.   I pictured myself being unhappy, because I wouldn’t know about all these great mental health tools .  Also, I wouldn’t make it a priority to work on myself.

Several years ago, my family and I traveled to visit one of the leading experts in autism in the country.  He said that I seemed depressed and it was affecting how I was doing play therapy with my son.   When I described my patterns, the doctor said that from now on,  “You are only allowed to feel hopeless for one hour.”

The doctor said I needed to be happier to help Cal, so I developed a mental health plan.  One of the things I did was I asked my husband if every third Saturday of the month, I could have a day off where he watches the kids.  Yesterday was my day off.  I planned a solitary yoga retreat at my house.  I did yoga.  I meditated and read books about meditation.   I listened to calming music and wrote in my journal from a Deepak Chopra book.   It was such a wonderful day.  It helped me be so peaceful and centered.  Yesterday morning, I got mad at my husband for using my computer.  After our fight, I took a bath with no time limit, lit an Ayurvedic candle and thought about what had happened.  I then said to my husband, “I’m sorry for being angry before.  When I was angry with you it was because of my own insecurities about myself.  When I was angry with you, it had nothing to do with you, it was because of how I was feeling about myself.”  My husband smiled at me so happily and said thanks.  It was such a great feeling to see that smile.

So if I went back to that moment in time and stopped Cal from getting his vaccinations or didn’t give him dairy, I don’t believe I would have been as thoughtful and nice to my husband as I was yesterday.  Instead of sharing that sweet moment yesterday, we would have been fat, bitter and fighting.  If Cal wasn’t autistic, I don’t believe I would take off one Saturday a month for myself.  So the amazing thing that happened this morning, is that, in my imagination when I gave myself the opportunity to go back in time and “stop” Cal from being autistic, I didn’t do it.

So, this is the question:  Do I need Cal to be autistic for me to take care of myself and choose to be happy?  Would I do things like take off one Saturday a month to take care of myself if I didn’t believe I “needed” to be clear and happy to help Cal?  Unfortunately, I believe the answer is, “No.”  I don’t believe I would take this good care of myself, both physically and mentally, if I didn’t believe it would help Cal recover from autism.  I only give myself permission to be happy and take care of myself so I can better take care of my son.

I was talking to a friend of mine who has cancer.  She said that she told the cancer, “Thank you for coming.  I’ve learned and gotten all that I need to from you.  You can go now.”  Later in the conversation, my friend said that one of the gifts of her cancer is that she is getting to see her adult children much more and how good it feels that her kids are paying so much more attention to her.  The way she said it, I didn’t believe she was just happy to get more time with her kids and she’d be fine if things went back to the way things were, when she saw them less.  I believed that she really wanted and “needed” to see her kids more and that wouldn’t have happened without the cancer.  She sounded embarrassed at being so happy with all of the attention from her kids.  I thought, “You lied — you haven’t gotten all you want from the cancer.  You need the cancer to give yourself permission to spend more time with your family.”

I don’t have autism so I don’t control whether it stays or goes.  Cal has a choice, maybe biology and God do too.  However, if I need Cal’s autism to stay, in order for me to make myself happy, I’m not giving it permission to go away.  I still need it here.  So, where do I go from here?  How do I convince myself to do things to help make myself happy and healthy just for myself — not because I need to be clear and centered to take care of someone else?

I know the answer:  it’s all for me.  If I give a homeless guy a sandwich, it’s for me.  Maybe I do it because I feel good helping him or because then I believe I’m a good person.  Maybe I believe in karma so I help a homeless guy to prevent something bad from happening to me in the future.  No matter what I do, in the end, it’s all for me.  If I help Cal, it’s because I feel like a better mother, or I want to be able to have a more complex conversation with him.  I want to see with my eyes him playing football in the park with his friends.  I want to feel satisfied seeing Cal walk down the sidewalk holding hands with his girlfriend.  For myself, because everything in the end is for me, I want to see him graduate from high school.  So every moment of every day, I’m going to remind myself now that it’s all for me.  Tomorrow, when I play with Cal, if I start to feel like it’s an obligation, I’ll remember, “It’s all for me!”

This morning I yelled at my son.  I mean, I really yelled at him.

My typical eight year-old wouldn’t change from shorts to pants, even though it was cold outside.  I stood close to him and roared, “Aaaaahhhhhhhh!” right in his face.  ”You’re driving me crazy.  Go upstairs now,”  I yelled.  He stood motionless for a second and looked at me a little shocked.  After a moment, he adjusted himself and stood still.  He said in a zen way, “I am not motivated by anger.”

I said, a little less angrily, “Go upstairs now.”  My son stood in his place, looked into my eyes, and said again, “I am not motivated by anger.”  I took a breathe and said more calmly, “Please go upstairs now.”  He went upstairs and changed into pants.

As soon as he was gone, I smiled and was so entertained by how he had handled my anger.  A few minutes later, we ate breakfast while having a warm and friendly conversation. Oscar said he didn’t like that I was using anger to try to motivate him.  I explained that I don’t like how it feels either to be mean to him.   “However,”  I added, “anger does work sometimes to get you to do stuff.”  Oscar disagreed and said it doesn’t work.  So we agreed to do an experiment this week.  I said, I would do my best to ask my son to do things in a nice way.  We agreed that I’ll keep track of how often he does what I ask him to do, when I ask him in a nice way, and not in an angry voice.

I know so much more about parenting well because Cal is autistic. I’ve found the best experts to help me with Cal, and as a side effect, my typical son has experienced awesome parenting.  He has also had the most well-trained fun babysitters on the planet.  (Everyone who plays with my autistic son, plays with my typical son.)  So my eight year-old is able to express himself and communicate with me about emotions in a profound way.  I learn so much from him!  I would have been a good parent anyway, even if Cal wasn’t autistic.  But I would not have known things like  how to teach my kids about whether they want to use anger to motivate people.

I feel like I know stuff.  I don’t mean that in an arrogant way.  I feel confident and blessed.   I often know what to do.  I’ve learned so much about parenting.  Because of Cal, I have access to really smart practical people who have helped me raise my sons.

Gratitude is important.  That is why after my husband and I had sex last night, I said,  ”Thanks for cleaning the vibrator.”  My husband has a very large penis and gratitude is important.  So I also verbally expressed gratitude for his thick dick.

Gratitude is nice because it helps the person you are thanking feel good.  But the main purpose of saying “thank you”, is that I’m more happy when I feel grateful.

When there was no school this summer, I often went to the public library with my typical eight year-old son.  It was really nice to pick out books with him and do something “normal”.  When we would get home, my autistic son would joyfully rip off the barcodes that were taped to the books.  I returned the books recently and tried to run away before the librarian noticed.

“Didn’t these books used to have barcodes on them?” the librarian said.   I nodded yes and patiently listened while he kept explaining why they needed the barcodes.

He talked for a while and I did my best to be present with him in a patient way.   I finally admitted that my eleven year-old is autistic and he likes to rip off the barcodes.   I chuckled awkwardly and said, “If you want to come over and figure out a way to keep him from doing that, that would be great.”

The librarian looked at me patiently for several seconds.  I said, “I could put the books up on a very high shelf?”  ”But then,” the librarian said thoughtfully, “they wouldn’t get read.”

I stood there, waiting to get dismissed.  I thought, “There is no solution to this.”  But the librarian was in no hurry and wanted to help.  After a while, he finally said, “Since you know the barcodes are going to be ripped off, why don’t you take off the barcodes yourself when you get home, and then tape them back on before you return them.”

I smiled and felt joyful and told him how brilliant he was.  I felt truly grateful to be in the presence of such an amazing brainstormer and patient problem-solver.  This is why autism is cool.  Part of the home program we do to help cure my son, focuses on showing gratitude and celebrating when Cal looks at us or talks to us.  I spend a lot of time practicing gratitude because it’s part of the program.  The more authentically grateful I am when Cal interacts with me, the faster he gets cured.

Before autism came into my family, I was self-righteous and arrogant.  (I still am but less so.)  Before autism, I probably would have gotten in a fight with the librarian.  I would have told him off even before he had the chance to help me.  Then, I would have spent the rest of the day complaining how badly the government runs things and how scary it is how we spend our tax dollars.  I would have obsessively wondered why God makes people so stupid.

Instead of feeling self-righteous and angry, I felt love and gratitude for this civil servant.  I wrote a thank you note to him on the engraved stationary from Tiffany my Mom gave me as a birthday gift.  This morning, I gave the librarian the thank you note and then played with Cal.  I have no idea what the librarian will think when he reads it.  However, I do know, that I when I brought Cal his lunch later, even though he was crying, I thought, “What can I be grateful for?”  So I authentically thanked him for eating his kale and celebrated him for having such a healthy appetite.    He looked at me and stopped crying.  Then we talked playfully about everyone in our family and who has the healthiest appetite.  Cal looked at me and smiled and said, “Yeah,” when I shouted, “I bet you have an even healthier appetite than Daddy!”  Cal kept eating and I sang a line from Mr. Rogers, “There’s the cooking way to say I love you. . .”  Cal looked at me and sang, “There’s the cooking way . . .”  He stopped and I filled in the rest, “to say I love you.”