It was a challenging afternoon when my son, Lucas, returned home from school. His demeanor was off, and I sensed that something was troubling him. Typically, I could navigate these moments with patience and understanding. I aimed to embody the calm, collected parent—a goal that often felt elusive. As a mother of a child with autism, I had learned the importance of maintaining my composure, especially in the face of his occasional aggressive behaviors. Our therapists had consistently emphasized the necessity of staying calm and avoiding reactionary responses.
On that particular day, I struggled to pinpoint the catalyst for his agitation. He resisted my attempts to communicate, and when I offered him a healthy afternoon snack, he firmly refused. His frustration grew as I reminded him of our routine: fruit before cookies. I recognized that he was likely seeking an opportunity to express pent-up emotions, and before I knew it, he had erupted.
In a fit of anger, he lunged at me, flailing his arms, and struck me. As I attempted to regain control, he began tearing pages from a book I had been reading. When he reached for the library books nearby, my frustration peaked. In a moment that felt surreal, I found myself retreating from him, clutching the remaining books to protect them. Lucas chased after me, striking out again, and when he hit me hard on the back, I felt a surge of rage.
I yelled at him to back off or I would throw the book I was holding. As he moved to the couch, I noticed him laugh, and without thinking, I threw the softcover book at him. It struck him on the arm, and the shock on both of our faces was palpable. “Mommy, you threw the book at me!” he exclaimed.
My initial anger quickly dissolved into a torrent of emotions. I was shaken, not just for what I had done, but for the fact that I felt the urge to do it again. Overwhelmed with guilt, I started to cry. I picked up the book and, through tears, apologized to Lucas. “I’m very sorry, but I’m also very upset. I need to go calm down in my calm corner,” I said. We had previously created a calming space for him during meltdowns, and it became clear I needed one for myself as well.
I retreated to the family bathroom, the only room with a lock, and allowed myself to cry for about 15 minutes. In that moment of solitude, I released all my pent-up emotions. Since that day, I have not lost control with my son again.
Motherhood exposes us to our greatest strengths and weaknesses. It is an opportunity for growth if we embrace it. Many mothers of children with special needs, including friends of mine, have shared similar experiences of losing their tempers. One friend recounted a moment when her son stepped on her foot, prompting her to retaliate, only to feel guilt afterward. Another admitted to yelling at her child until he cried, leading her to tears of her own. These experiences remind us that losing control is a shared human experience.
As we reflect on these moments, we can learn to manage our anger constructively, demonstrating calmness amidst chaos—an invaluable lesson for our children, regardless of their needs. I learned that day to navigate my emotional landscape with honesty and compassion.
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In summary, moments of frustration and loss of control are part of the parenting journey, particularly for those of us raising children with special needs. Acknowledging these experiences can lead to personal growth and better emotional management, ultimately benefiting both parents and their children.
Keyphrase: parenting a child with autism
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