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Challenge: Bullying Hurts

Maybe I am a Delusional Special Needs Mom

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I read your comment this morning.

It was mostly a bunch of gibberish. I will never, ever understand why trolls have such terrible grammar. If you want to attack me, please don’t make me decipher what you are saying.

But anyhow, this was one of my favorites of all time.

You targeted my looks. Funny.

You went after my kids too. Mostly Cooper. An 8 year old boy. You don’t seem to like him much. Which is weird. Because you don’t have to follow him. But I get it. The internet is a confusing place.

But mostly you ripped on me. You really don’t like me much either.

All behind a fake profile.

Fake profiles crack me up. Because while you are smart enough to keep making them, even after I report you and block you, you aren’t smart enough to know that all of your accounts are under the same IP address.

I know who you are.

But I also don’t care enough to do anything about it. I got a bit too much going on here to chase you around the cyberworld.

You know a lot about me friend. You follow me closely. In a way, hating me is your hobby. I also see your need to target me. I think it must make you feel better.

I honestly don’t mind much.

But this comment got me thinking. So, thank you. Although that may make you mad.

You were trying to insult me and instead you provided me some much needed clarity about my own reality.

Not the part about my hair though. It is all real by the way. Although I’m hoping you can tell by my 4 inches of regrowth that I am not a real blonde.

Three kids and working sure makes it hard to get to the salon.

But again, who cares about that.

The part that got me thinking was when you called me delusional.

‘You are delusional. Your relationship with Cooper is SICK. Just what are you going to do when he turns 12 and raging hormones?’ (I didn’t fix your typos. Sorry.)

Now that’s an interesting question.

A smart one even. What am I going to do?

My boy is getting bigger. That’s the funny part about kids. They grow up. EVEN WHEN THEY HAVE AUTISM. Who knew.

So what am I going to do when he is 12 and going through puberty?

Well, I guess, honestly, be his mom. And love him.

I’ll probably help him get dressed. And feed him. I’m sure I’ll bring him to school. And go for walks.

I assume we will have a whole new set of stress by then. New goals. Now hopes. New dreams.

I also assume it’s going to be hard at times. Although I can tell you my six year old boy is going to be a challenge too. It’s not just autistic kids that change in puberty.

But am I delusional?

Well, maybe.

I spend my energy on social media sharing the beautiful parts of severe autism. I show our family. All three boys. My marriage. (I love that you think my husband should divorce me. I shared that with him. He got a good chuckle.)

Our home. Our community.

I show the real sides of severe autism.

And lets be honest here dear friend, it ain’t all pretty.

I do that because the word autism can be scary. Especially when it’s written on a piece of paper and handed to you.

I want to show the world that it doesn’t have to be scary. That our world isn’t really that different than yours.

But I also don’t lie. Or sugarcoat. Mostly because I don’t have the energy.

I talk a bit about the future. But only a little because it scares me. I’m not quite ready to think about my nonverbal son as a man.

And he’s only 8. I have time.

And I want to believe that we are going to be okay. That he won’t get aggressive. And that he will be able to live with Jamie and I forever. (Unless he divorces me of course.)

So yes, I believe you are right. Maybe I am delusional. I’ll give you that one.


But honestly, that’s okay.

Because I want to live in a world where I believe that this is all going to be okay.

That someday the world will accept autism. And people with differences.

I want to believe that my son may talk some day. And make a friend. And graduate from High School.

I want to believe that he is the one in a million.

I want to believe that he won’t get aggressive. Even in puberty.

I want to believe that he will be able to live with me forever. And I’ll always be able to care for him.

I don’t want to dwell on group homes. Or life long care. Or even nursing homes.

I thoroughly enjoy my delusional life. It’s pretty great here. Thank you for reminding me of that.

You ended it with I need psychiatric help.

Well, we should see if we can get a two for one special.

Pot. Meet kettle.


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