How My ASD Diagnosis Changed Me

It has been just over six months since I got my official ASD diagnosis. It feels longer for some reason, but not in a bad way. It's amazing how much I've changed in the last six months.

I have embraced my diagnosis with open arms, using it as a catalyst for self-discovery and new levels of self-awareness. Mostly, I have felt empowered by it. I feel authentic. I no longer feel ashamed of myself and because of that, I feel I can live more like my true self. I am allowing myself to be me, just the way I am, without negative judgment. And that is so freeing.

I know a lot of people say they feel like diagnosis makes them "act more autistic." I guess I can say a similar thing, in the sense that I am allowing myself to be naturally, quirky me. I no longer try to hide my stims. I accept them as needed and helpful, for the most part.

I "came out" at work, which has been both good and bad. Good because it has given me a way to fight for acceptance and bad in the sense there is still a lack of understanding of what it really means to be Autistic. However, I guess I can't accomplish everything in six short months. Still, there is hope for improvements and I don't regret doing it.

I have felt more empowered to stand up for myself and my family. I would have said I was always a strong person, but truthfully, I lacked certain skills when it came to dealing with my mom. I came to the realization that I was still doing things simply to "keep the peace" or make her happy at the expense of myself and my family. I finally found the courage to put my foot down. Case in point, normally I would have gone to her place for Easter dinner, not because that's what I want, but because it would be what *she* wants and I would suffer through it. She is just a very negative and controlling person and being around her makes me anxious a lot of the time. I refused to go, which of course made her angry, but she'll get over it. Instead of turning my life into chaos and bending over backwards to make it work for her, I've had a very relaxing weekend with my little family at home. That peace of mind is priceless.

I have become better able to let anxiety and other stressful emotions wash over me, rather than panic. I think understanding that my anxiety stemmed mostly from over-stimulation of the senses and learning to listen to and accept my limits, means that I am a much happier and calmer person. Before I didn't really understand what I was panicking about, which can be pretty scary. Now I am more aware of my sensory issues and finding ways to work with them. I accept that I can take time-outs for myself and I can find ways to recharge and cope. I no longer blame myself for what I previously perceived to be "failings" or "weakness."

On this day, which also happens to be my 13th handfasting anniversary, I think back to the vows we wrote for each other. One line was, "to delight in who you are becoming." We knew over time we would both change and we decided to accept that off the bat. I know my husband still delights in what I am becoming and I delight in his changes as well. But I can also say that I am also taking great delight in who I am becoming.

As I sit perched in my new hanging chair - which my husband worked hard to mount for me, knowing it would calm my sensory issues - I can't help but delight in the whole process of becoming more me. 

The Mama's Mom

TRIGGER WARNING: Parental abuse

I alluded to issues with my mother in my annual year in review post, but I didn't take time to write about it for a few reasons. 1) I'm so over it, and 2) I actually took off to San Francisco on a mini-solo-vacation, so I just didn't have time to spare over such stupidities.

Now I guess I'm ready and willing, and I think it might actually help to share, so here goes.

My mother has admitted to not having a maternal side (which always makes me wonder why she had children) and spent most of my childhood being manipulative and calling me, "stupid" or "idiot" (those were her favorites) at least daily. Essentially, I could do absolutely nothing right. I dreaded her coming home from work, where she would go through the house and find everything wrong with it. If the windows were open, ("who's the idiot who opened the windows?") she would close them. The next day, in an effort to please her, I would close the windows, only to have her come home and yell about them being closed and then open them. I walked on eggshells constantly. (Which is what led to my anxiety, hypervigilance and later PTSD diagnosis, which stayed with me even after moving out.)

To be fair, my father was abusive in his own way, but not quite as bad. I also think there's something that hurts even deeper when it's your mother who is abusive. I ran to my dad for comfort and understanding. Now that he is dead, I do not feel I have a loving parent I can go to for comfort and love, which made the death of my father that much worse.

All this to say, I was scared when my son was born that my mother would continue to heap her shit upon my child and I was deadset on making sure that did not happen. I was powerless as a child to escape, but as an adult, I have the freedom to avoid the toxicity and also keep my own child away from harm. I originally did not want my mother to have a relationship with my son at all, but my sister convinced me otherwise. She believed it should be their relationship to nurture and that my son would resent me if I did not allow him to have a relationship with his grandmother.

So I kept an eye on things and to my surprise, my mom was mostly good. Not great, but not horrible and certainly not abusive. But slowly, little old habits of hers started to show themselves. However, she never SAID anything abusive, so I let her babysit him and he seemed to like her.

Until Christmas dinner.

The Little Man was already stressed to be at her place. We sat at the table, which is very stressful for him, but I did it to make her happy. Looking back, I should not have tried to make her happy, since that always fails anyway. I should have prioritized making my son happy. I take ownership of that mistake and I will not make it again.

Anyhow, to make a long story short, he was not coping well with the stress and she decided the best thing to do to make him comply was to start shaming and insulting him. (Because that's a great parenting technique, right?) In which case, I shut that down.
You know, I don't always stand up for myself, but I will sure as hell stand up for my son.

So we left and my mom cried and got upset and I actually didn't feel bad. I didn't really feel anything. It felt like the same old record started playing again and I'm so tired of hearing the same old song.
And I could easily predict what would happen next. She would contact me and say, "I love you" because that's what she always did. She would yell at me and call me names and then about 30 minutes later, come and tell me she loved me. Always. Like clockwork.
No apologies.

Guess what? A few days later I received the "I love you" via text and an offer to talk. I did not respond. There is nothing to talk about. Unless she wants to apologize (and even then) there is nothing to say. Nothing will change until hell freezes over.

And so I have not spoken to her. We have emailed over trivial things since then, but I have nothing to say. And the Little Man does not want to see her. If and when he does, we will deal with an arrangement then, but she will not be able to be with him unsupervised. She lost that privilege.

As for the Little Man, I came home from that dinner and did damage control the best I could. I sat him down and I apologized to him for arguing in front of him. I told him none of it was his fault and it had nothing to do with him. I told him he is perfect and loved and wonderful just the way he is. That's the best I could do and I don't want to have to do it ever again.

Babies Save You Money

Pete was actually right: you do save money with a baby because it's so hard to go out and do anything, you can't really spend any money.


The laundry on the other hand....

We packed up our delirious selves and walked over to my mom's yesterday for Thanksgiving dinner. It went ok, though my mom was trying to snatch Baby out of my seestor's arms half the time. This poor kid. So glad I'm breast feeding because right now it's my big excuse not to leave him with my crazy mom. Not sure what to do when he gets older.

New Clothes AGAIN?

I swear to Krashnu, if my mom makes another comment about the quality of my milk or breast feeding, she is getting squirted in the eye.

I think she's jealous it's working for me when it didn't work for her...not that I believe she really tried anyways.

In other news, I need new clothes *again*. Despite my waistline being almost back to pre-pregnancy size, my hips have expanded, so my maternity pants are actually kinda tight. And my boobs have exploded even more than they did during pregnancy, so many of my tops don't fit. (Never in my life did I imagine I'd find a shirt that didn't fit my boobs. Usually my boobs are lost in the shirt. I've now gone from A34 to C36. This is ridiculous.)

Do I get to keep these boobs, btw? Though I think a B would be sufficient. I'd like to sleep on my stomach again.

Oh, in more positive news, I was able to lay down flat on top of Hubby, no belly in the way since what feels like an eternity. It was pure bliss. We made out and it felt like we were dating again.