Water Safety In The Land Of Autism

Water Safety In The Land Of Autism

Keeping kids on the spectrum safe can be a challenge in the warm weather months.  This article addresses some of those concerns.

ASD Parents’ Silent Threat

ASD Parents’ Silent Threat

As a mental health therapist, I see a variety of symptoms in my office on a daily basis. But there is one constant cluster of symptoms that I see most. It includes the following:
● flashbacks and intrusive thoughts
● exaggerated startle response
● difficulty sleeping
● anxious and/or angry moods
● sense of fear and/or hypervigilance

Additionally, some of these same patients also describe
● emotional numbness
● feeling as though they don’t care about anything
● feelings of detachment
● a lack of interest in normal activities
● headaches, fevers, body aches, and physical numbness

Due to the coverage in our media lately, with soldiers returning from Iraq, you probably guessed that I’m talking about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, (or PTSD). In basic terms, it occurs when soldiers experience such a high level of stress and threat to their physical well-being, that their nervous systems never have a chance to return to baseline after leaving the battlefield. Only, I don’t treat soldiers, I treat parents. The battlefield…their own homes and communities. And the enemy isn’t Al Qaeda, it’s Autism.

I’ve often heard the term Warrior Moms/Dads associated with parents raising children with autism, and I couldn’t agree more. The ASD parents I know are some of the strongest, most resilient, persistent, fighters I have ever met. They kick butt and take no prisoners. But they never get to leave the battlefield. Even R&R is hard to come by. And it turns out, you can’t be a triumphant warrior and escape the fallout. Consequently we have a large number of wounded warriors among us. For some, the most disturbing memory was the initial diagnosis, and they’re haunted by flashbacks of being bullied by doctors who said they were crazy to think their children regressed after age 2. For others, it’s the never ending stress of the battles we fight with the school district, insurance companies, pharmacies, labs, or grocery store clerk. For our family, and too many others, it’s the fear or the actual experience of having your child wander off and go missing.

In order to qualify for a diagnosis of PTSD, the symptoms must persist for over a month. Those experiencing symptoms for less than a month, get the diagnosis of Acute Stress Disorder or….ASD. (Yes, I see the coincidence in the acronym and no, I’m not making that up.) I have a 14-year-old son with autism who regressed around age 2. So, I’m guessing after 12 years of recurring trauma and hypervigilance, my husband and I have cycled through PTSD/ASD a few times each. (My husband, who is extremely competitive, tells me he’s ahead by one.)

The good news is, treatment is being researched and refined more than ever in history. EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitisation and Reprocessing) Therapy is a relatively new approach to treating PTSD and anxiety with stunning results. Next time, I will address how EMDR works and why it’s especially effective for these warrior parents. In the meantime, if you or someone you love is experiencing symptoms, or you have further questions, contact me: janeen@PuzzlePeaceCounseling.com.

Autism Mommies:The Paradox of Putting Ourselves First

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I recently read a study claiming that mothers of autistic children were almost twice as likely to suffer from depression than their typical counterparts. As a “card-carrying member” of this particular club, this did not surprise me. I found myself strangely comforted to see that connection being made in a clinical trial.

Years of researching the genetic and biomedical connections in autism made me aware of the chicken/egg argument. Was it my family history that played a part in my child’s condition? Or did my child’s condition cause mine? In my personal situation, we have lots of eggs AND chickens. There is a family history of autoimmune and mood disorders, AND I have a child whose behavioral issues would’ve made Lovaas himself throw up his hands in despair.

My house is a proverbial chicken coop. Or a funny farm…depending on how much you value political correctness. I, for one, still use the word “Autistic”, which in some mom circles is the equivalent of relegating my child to a padded room and straight jacket. An idea that has crossed my mind on my worst days. But, I digress.

Either way, I am finding more often than not, the spectrum mothers I befriend and counsel are either taking or have taken a mood altering medication. I actually cannot think of one mom off the top of my head who does not fit this profile, and I have worked and talked with hundreds of moms. Not that there’s anything wrong with that…I’m all for better living through chemistry. But it begs the question, “How well are we taking care of ourselves as parents?”

Everything is relative; The child who repeatedly asks the same questions and cannot seem to stop perseverating on the topic of United States presidents can be just as taxing as the child who swiftly kicks a hole in the drywall of your living room for no apparent reason. On a weekly basis. And even after you fix them he finds new places to make them. And you start to wonder if you should just hire a contractor “on retainer”…but I digress again.

Most moms I know are so busy running their kids to OT, PT, ABA, and the rest of the alphabet soup of therapies, that they leave no time for themselves to rest, reflect, ponder or even pray. Now, I am not saying these moms should be faulted in any way. I certainly remember all too well, what I was told by the “professionals” after first hearing the “A” word; There was little that could be done for my child, but what could be done to move my child forward was intensive, one to one therapy during a small “window” of opportunistic time. What choice did that leave me, really? My child is three, so I start doing the math. If I can involve him in 40 hours a week of therapies for the next two years then he may have a shot at regular kindergarten. Maybe I could even start saving for college instead of a group home. There’s not much of a choice involved. You get Nike with the autism and just do it.

But no one warned me of the pitfalls. And to tell you the truth, if they had, I would venture to guess that I wouldn’t have heeded their warnings. If someone had told me my marriage was going to break into tiny little pieces, I would’ve told them our relationship was strong enough. If they would’ve told me that I was going to drown in enough debt to finance three new cars, I would’ve said I‘d worry about it later. And if they would’ve told me I would be clinically depressed, curled up on the couch in a fetal position two years into it, I would’ve told them they were the one’s who were crazy.

In a strange way I’m glad “they” didn’t tell me any of it. As painful as they were, and as much as I would never want to re-live them, it is these experiences that made me, well…me. As a result, I embarked on a new journey of mental health…this time for myself.