Your “eeees” resound throughout the farm, and I smile to know how excited you are to show off your horseback riding prowess, how thrilled you are that your parents and brother and grandmas are here to watch you revel in your favorite pastime. I also smile because those “eeees” mean the catatonia is at bay, that what’s started off as a good morning may continue while you strut your stuff.
Today, my smile will be vindicated.
You are always so calm on a horse, have been so since you began therapeutic horseback riding at the tender age of five. You weren’t so thrilled about it at the start (you let us know in no uncertain terms that horses were the devil), but something inside me said to keep at this, and I’m so glad I did. You grew to love your weekly sessions, rocking back and forth with anticipation each week in the car, walking so quickly ahead of me to the barn I had to run to catch up with you.
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Your joy was, and is, palpable.
Part of why I pushed you was because I was bound and determined to find something, some hobby or pastime that you would like other than your DVDs and driving around New Jersey on Rent-a-Car websites (while entertaining, it’s not exactly aerobic). Truth be told if I could host a horse in our backyard I would (hubbie, if you’re reading this, don’t freak out), but for now I have to settle for a once-a-week ride. I love the fact that you can do this for decades, can even get your equestrian fix after I’m gone (yes, I’m always thinking ahead).
Somehow, I will find a way for you to ride when you’re seventy-five. I’m just that much of a planner.
If some of you are thinking “no way, no how” could you ever get your son or daughter on a tall animal, perhaps you’re right. The first time we tried when Justin was in kindergarten he needed two people flanking him to keep him on the horse. He started off desperately trying to escape, and by the end of the twenty minute session he was calm and I even saw the ghost of a smile on his face. He certainly wasn’t as enamored of the saddle as he is now, but it was enough for me to see the burgeoning possibilities of an actual sport for my son, something he could do that would stretch him and get him out of the house.
Trust me, it wasn’t always easy to get him out of our home, but that’s another thing we’ve perservered in, and it’s opened up the world to him.
When Justin was little he was so much more difficult to deal with than he is now, even though he’s newly diagnosed with catatonia which brings its own challenges. His sensory issues were much more pronounced back in the day which I’m sure contributed to his angst, but somehow I knew if I started early getting him to go to places and doing activities these locations would become part of his routine, and eventually he would accept them. We pushed the beach, the boardwalks, Great Adventure and even Hurricane Harbor. We eventually even got brave and when he was ten we took him on a plane to Disney, where for a first trip away from home he did remarkably well. The truth is, I kept at it when he was young also because I could still physically remove him from any situation at the time, which at fifteen, is quite beyond me now.
Mommy’s tough, but not tough enough to budge a teenager.
Honestly, it doesn’t matter what the activity or outing is, and you may have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your proverbial prince. I want you to know I am well aware this isn’t easy. I’ve had trips where I’ve returned with bitemarks all over my shoulders from having to remove my child from a situation. I’ve had bruises on my shins where I’ve been kicked repeatedly for trying to leave a place, been drenched in sweat as I’ve wondered if I was tough enough to get him in the car before someone called the police on me for abducting a child. Often our outings were baptism by fire, with me swearing to myself “never again.”
I’ll tell you a secret. There was always “just one more try.”
Justin has his limits as to where he’ll go, and more importantly, how long he’ll stay. The kid who we used to have to drag off the beach will now only make it an hour (and sometimes it’s work to get him there that long), but he always has a smile on his face when we’re done. I know we wouldn’t be able to have these expeditions if I hadn’t braved his meltdowns when he was little.
Not sure about a lot of things with autism, but of this one I’m certain.
Finally, warm weather is coming, and we’ve managed to slough off a tenacious winter during which it’s easy to stay inside. My advice to anyone starting out with an autistic child is to take errands and outings as seriously as the latest ABA therapy technique your child’s therapist has suggested to you. Start early; start young. Know that sometimes your efforts will be for naught, and your trip will absolutely suck. Regroup, ask for help if you can, and try again.
Never give up. Never give in.
Always give it one more try.
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