A few years ago, when I ran my first 5k at the Athens Classic Marathon, I wrote that I ran for my son. Today I ran the Half Marathon, 21k and once again suppported the Greek Society for the Protection of Autistic People, for my son . . .
But the thing is, yesterday I was a horrible mother . . . to my autistic son. He woke up, literally the moment he opened his eyes, and was a screaming, flailing, hitting, running MESS and I didn’t take it so well. I yelled back! A lot! When he would yell, I would yell back even louder for him to stop. At some point, I had a coughing fit from all the yelling, my throat felt like it would shut down. And my mind as well. I had enough! Yesterday, for me, is definitely going on the worst of our Autism Days list.
And then today, I woke up and got ready to go to the Marathon and I kept thinking if I was really going to go through with it. I didn’t feel ready to run 21k physically and mentally I felt drained. I felt guilt. I had treated my son like shit, I showed no tolerance, no patience. What kind of mom am I that goes and runs marathons in support of Autism organizations if I can’t have patience toward my own autistic son? And then there I was, and the shot was rung for us to begin and I had tears welling up in my eyes. For a good hour I ran with a trembling lip (trembling because I fought to hold back the tears) and the saddest eyes because I kept thinking of the way I treated him, of how I looked at him at some point. When I’m gone, I thought, will the person in charge of taking care of him, treat him the same way?
You can’t always say to yourself, OK it was a bad day – for all of us. P has his days and I have my days. But NO, parents of autistic kiddos are not afforded this luxury. Ever. Because the damage is irreparable . . . and I know he’s forgiven me but I will never forgive myself.