I just don’t know. Sometimes I feel like I spend my days putting band aids on my own emotional issues dealing with all this. Some days I get spiritual and turn to God. Some days I write and express my emotions that way. Some days I throw myself into some other task like work or ...
I ask you to indulge me for a minute as I drift off topic briefly. I have to write about this because it affects me deeply and I’ve been hurting for a couple of days. I think by now most of you have come to know me as a kind, fair and gentle man just ...
Fifteen seconds. He feels so good for fifteen seconds. He opens his eyes, blinks three times, takes a deep breath and it’s gone. He’s awake. He lays there for a minute or two, trying in vain to will himself back to sleep… back to that amazing dream. He can’t. Instead he lays there in silence ...
He’s hideous. He has bad breath and yellow fangs. He has a rotten stench and the diabolic power of reaching into your soul and squeezing your spirit until it physically hurts. He’s doesn’t play fair. He’s sly and sneaky and jumps up to snatch you at your most vulnerable moments. His name? “Comparison”.
1. We are supposed to fix things. Yes, it’s irrational. But the road to accepting there are things we can’t fix is long and ugly and sometime endless. 2. The sweetest words ever spoken to me by my wife: “You are an amazing Dad.” 3. The most painful words ever spoken to me: “It must ...
When he was three he wanted no part of a costume and he wouldn’t leave the house. When he was five he tolerated wearing a striped shirt and we called him a pirate, but he still threw a complete temper tantrum when we tried to leave the house. When he was six he tolerated a ...
I have this Autism Parenting gig boiled down to three basic concepts: 1) Pick your battles.2) Trust your gut.3) Screw Dr. Phil. Every day my son makes a plan. Actually, it’s more of a legally-binding contract than a plan. The plan includes a list of mundane activities that he agrees to take part in (like ...
I vividly remember arguing with our first ABA therapist in the middle of our living room. It was 7 years ago. The emotional scars of our diagnosis were still fresh. I was holding it together… barely. I didn’t have the first clue what I was doing, but the boring, disciplined, clinical approach she was using ...
We were at the beach. My wife and I were standing ankle-deep in the water watching Eric having a ball swimming and jumping over the waves. A group of three other kids ran up and started playing, splashing and chasing each other in the water. Eric gave them a passing glance and went about his ...
Dear Sir, I’m not one to write to celebrities, but I think it’s time I reached out to you. Conventional wisdom says I should be sick of you… resent you. You are able to reach my son in ways that sometimes escape me. But I don’t resent you (any more) and I am not sick ...
