I just got off the phone for an autism survey. One and a half hours of talk about Owen, our family and the diagnostic process. I can’t even begin to tell you how important it is to me to further the research of autism. Any research really. If I can help make the world a better place or something less difficult for another person. She taped our conversation and is going to email me the transcript as well as the time line of Owen’s–what? It hasn’t been a journey. That is far too nice a description. And it’s not "just" a diagnosis. I amaze even myself with the positive attitude. Focusing on the strength of my marriage and the compassion of my children. Even the hard work Owen does every single day. But it is hard too–facing the realities of the difficulties autism has created for him and us. I try not to think about the sad things anymore…never having friends or getting married or driving a car. I don’t like to think about the trips we never take–locally or further away. I don’t think it is denial as much as it can be survival. Talking about it with this researcher though…a categorical and directed conversation. It’s not easy to describe the feelings I have. I shared with her some feelings I share with no one and am ashamed to even put out here. I had to be honest for research sake.
I don’t mean for this to be a whinge. I am just so overwhelmed with feelings right now. I can’t even knit.