An old friend told me the other day that she had no idea what we were going through when we were raising our autistic son, Billy.
“You were such a stoic all those years. Always doing something positive (loved the tandem bike and nightly swims). You didn’t fully share how extremely hard it was, how traumatic. I’m so glad it’s on the other side now, and that you’re able to help people in your situation.”
This surprised me, but then again, I have always been a big believer in denial.
My friend lives in Chicago, and she wasn’t able to witness the day-to-day terror that was Billy in the early years. I guess I didn’t want her to know how bad things really were. When we saw each other, I made sure Billy was away with a sitter. And when we talked, I always said things were okay, we were getting by, it wasn’t easy but things seemed to improving . . .
It wasn’t until later, when things really did improve, that I could look back at the war that we had gone through, and acknowledge how hard it was, how relentless it felt, and how grateful I am that we survived. But survive we did, and we are stronger for it.
Likewise, the special needs families that come to see me do not look beat up or defeated. They often have difficult home lives, yet they find the energy and motivation to come see a lawyer to make sure they are doing what they need to do to protect their special child’s future. I have nothing but admiration for them.
I no longer look at families with perfect kids with envy. Now I think that those of us with special kids are the ones with the richer lives. And denial has nothing to do with it.