I could say that this summer has been so hectic that it’s kept me from writing. It wouldn’t be a lie. We have been extraordinarily busy. We’ve had wild mornings and lazy afternoons. We’ve played across this state and beyond, and we still have more to discover and explore. We’ve had late night movie fests with popcorn and no bedtime; we’ve had even later mornings. We’ve followed Mia’s heart to places I would never have thought she’d enjoy. It’s been a summer of wonders, exhilaratingly busy. But that first statement wouldn’t be the truth either. The bustle of summer is not the only thing that has kept my writing at bay. My own reservations have played a part as well.
I guess the whole truth of the matter lies somewhere in between the two; my wordless days brought on by a mixture of things. One small part lack of time and desire. One large portion fear. What exactly was I so afraid of? Frankly, many things. And as the first few days of my silence turned into weeks I began to fret that those readers who used to enjoy my posts would have lost interest in my writings after such an extended period of time. I was afraid that the normal and mundane topic of our summer romps would bore those who were still willing to read my words. I was afraid of putting out one more articulate piece full of pretty words and pictures but lacking any actual substance. I just couldn’t come back to blogging armed with more posts lacking essence; fearful that those actions would send my blog into its final death throws. So, instead I let it quietly slip away and die a silent death. No ‘in memoriam’. No thoughtful words. And definitely no explanation to those who care.
But more than all that I guess I was afraid to continue along on this quest of exploring my feelings in a very public way; and on what was supposed to be a wide array of topics but had slowly turned into only one: autism. Had I taken a moment to sit down to write I don’t know what I would have said. I physically could not write one more post exploring the ramifications of my daughter’s autism, or the way in which the world always inaccurately perceives her because of it. I could not continue on along the path of writing about sunny days and rainbows – as if that were all that made up this life of ours. I couldn’t write one more article about autism – the good, the bad, or the ugly.
As a parent, as a person, I feel I have moved so far beyond the clinical diagnosis that my daughter holds. It is not something that I think about daily. It just is. And what most don’t realize is that autism, for us, for Mia, is normal. Autism is normal. It’s our everyday. It’s this families’ ordinary. And we happen to like normal. In how many more ways can this be said before it becomes utterly redundant?
So, I was confused, and scared, and busy as a bee. And I did what I typically do when things become overwhelming, or not to my taste, I ran. Far. And I stewed and I thought and while thinking I remembered something important – the name of my blog. My Many Confessions.
When I started this blog back in October I did it for one reason and one reason only; to have a sounding board for my confessions. For my many confessions. I started this blog so I could have a place to write – something I love doing. Something I am lost when not doing. Something that is as essential to my being as the air I breathe. It never had to be solely about autism. I should never have let it become overwhelming. I should never have forced myself to write on any specific topic or stifled my desire to write on a whim. I should have always allowed my thoughts to flow unto the page uninhibited by the constraints of a continual topic.
So after tirelessly soul searching I came across this authentic truth: As long as I continue to write with honesty, as long as I continue to write for me, then my many confessions can live on. I can make it worth more than what it was before by always allowing myself licence to explore my feelings. And if over the course of the next few months I lose a few readers because the content isn’t always, solely about autism then I am okay with that. This is my blog and these are my many, and diverse, confessions.