Should some of you not know this, I have an autistic son, who has severe learning difficulties, psychotic outbreak syndrome and suffers from four variants of epilepsy. Doesn't sound too much fun, does it? I suppose to you, or I, the 'normal' ones, it sounds horrendous, but to my Michael it's all just a way of life.
My support system has always been my family, my husband, sons, brothers and my friends. Of late I have to add some of the lovely people I have 'met' on Twitter. Sometimes just a simple phrase, a word, when life is extremely difficult can be a life line. I do not use that phrase lightly, it is a sincere statement.
We are lucky, in that Michael's psychotic outbreaks have reduced, but every now and again, a three hour screaming in my face will happen. When I, later, work back to the 'trigger' that has caused an episode, it all makes sense. At the time, of being screamed at, sense is not a priority. Survival is.
Despite this and all the worries that go hand in hand with having an adult autistic man, he is "my Michael". We have experienced the worst a family could endure but, in life, there is a ying and yang. I have sometimes wondered if there is a God and I completely respect those who say there isn't and add that this is no pious sermon, but there have been moments, with Michael, that have been, miraculous and have given us a glimpse into the place where he lives. His smile. A cuddle. His first words at age seven. Trying hard to control his temper. Looking at the moon. Wanting to be Peter Pan.
He is special.
He is disabled.
He is special, to try and take those simple words away from the description of my wonderful son and all that he is, is political correctness gone mad.
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