Today was a day of the cosmos reminding me that youngest is
autistic. Okay, honestly every day there are reminders; they are just part of
every day and I guess we don't think much of them anymore, and those
"things" are all parts of him and if I haven't said it lately, I
wouldn't change a thing (hand flapping, bounce-hop-walking, pacing, turning
circles, scripted and repetitive speech, habits, aversions, phobias, etc, etc,
and etc).
I knew a meltdown was coming. Amid the joy
and celebration of Z overcoming so many learning difficulties and becoming a
Bar Mitzvah, small and translucent but steady storm clouds were building. He
controlled himself so well and kept himself composed and polite through the
ceremony and party, through the further celebrations in the days following,
through his actual birthday, and through a weekend of changes and new things;
yet the autism characteristics were increasing—especially the scripted speech.
Z got a great new Lego set, one of the really big Star Wars sets, and set out
to start building late Saturday night and continued as soon as possible on
Sunday, completing it in record time by this morning (Monday). While we (and
many of you lol) know that he builds the most amazing Lego creations straight
from his mind, for this set he stayed with the directions the entire time; this
was probably only the 4th or 5th set he has put together with the directions
and by himself, and this was definitely the largest by far. As early afternoon
approached, so did the meltdown. One part of the ship kept falling off and
would not stay put. He kept bringing the Legos out into the living room then
back into his room then back again out into dining room, then yelling—no, roaring
at his sister when she reminded him “no Legos out here.” He went back into his
room and was yelling, so I went in to see what was wrong and to remind him to
change his shirt. He yelled and growled and screamed and I told him if he acted
like that I could not help, to which he replied “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!!” Almost
comical in that it was such a teenager thing to say, except it was far from a
teenager reason. Also just a little comical was his comment “and, no, I AM NOT
GOING TO TAKE A BREAK FROM IT,” as I guess he knew he needed to take a break
from it and that he knew what I was going to suggest. I left and he headed back
into the dining with his ship.
He was working so hard but that piece would not stay put. It was
not making sense to him because if he followed the directions it should stay!
Soon he was crying, and while he initially let me comfort him, the frustration
and meltdown took over. He “roared” louder, yelled at all of us (it does not
help that he is the baby, so the girls were stifling giggles because they can’t
take him seriously when he’s angry….) I reminded him he was certainly allowed
to be angry but reminded him at this level he needed to be in his room and on
his bed so he could pound/hit/kick his pillows or mattress, and to leave the
ship where it was. He grabbed it and ran to his room and attempted to lock his
door—mom was quicker and I had my hand on the doorknob, insisting he give me
the ship, and that if he didn’t give it to me other things would need to be
taken away. Remaining calm was the only option. He finally gave in, gave me the
ship, and stayed in his room until the timer rang. Later he completed the ship
and all was again well in his world. These are the only times I will admit to
feeling some sadness. When his disabilities crash head first into and through
his abilities, I’m saddened for those moments of struggles he has faced and
will face.
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