Q/A: During tough times with a child on the spectrum, what most gives you hope?

While it is good to plan for the future, looking
too far ahead during every moment of the
present can really narrow your vision to the
hope that manifests little by little along the
way.  Take things step by step and you might
find light shining through more than just the
end of the tunnel, to help you find your way!

Sherri from New York City, NY asks:

"During tough times w/child on the spectrum, what most gives you hope?"

I hope you'll forgive me, but to shorten the answer here, I'm going to embed links to parts of it that I've offered previously.

The first part of giving myself hope is really just trying to avoid getting overwhelmed by feelings of hopelessness in the first place!  Part of that comes from recognizing that things like guilt, depression, helplessness and frustration all feed on themselves and each other, and it's far healthier to acknowledge and deal with them as they come, than it is to let them build up exponentially.  Sometimes that isn't enough, so I also try to do things to set myself up to have an easier time keeping a positive perspective.

When I can't keep afloat of hopelessness, the first thing I reach for is perspective itself.  After all, ANY time with our five year old child on the spectrum is time that exceeds the hope we once had.  As for how that time plays out, well....when I can't seem to get a good enough grip on the future, and I can't shift my focus from the challenges of the present to the potential that exists between them, there's always the very useful trick of looking back.  Thankfully my husband and I are very good about taking turns losing control over the emotional build-up, and if I catch myself off-guard and can't see straight to see myself through a particularly rough time, I know all I have to do is distract myself by even looking for inspiration, long enough for him to have a chance to Talk with me, and he'll be able to point me in the right direction again.

Of course, sometimes all it takes is a look -- a look from my son, when he sees the grief I'm trying to hide, and he just wants to kiss it better.  If the light at the end of each of his tunnels is being able to smile with Mommy, then I can be guided through all the tunnels we walk for him, by that same glow.  That we in my little family love each other so deeply is something that nothing else which does or doesn't happen can change, and that is a hope I can always find, no matter how dark the tunnel, how far away the light at the end might seem, or even be hard to believe in.

Now, if I'm alone with myself, and all I have the strength to do in the darkness is lie down to sleep instead of feeling my way forward....well, thanks to the wonders of the Internet, I really never have to be alone.  I am blessed with love among a much larger family -- a family of special needs parents, many of Autistic children, from around the globe.  If I can't trust myself to hold it together over how things are at that time, there's always someone else I can trust, that will tell me it really does get better.

If all that fails, there's always impossible-to-ignore people like Temple Grandin, who are living proof that not only does IT 'get better', but that THEY 'got better'.  Sometimes you don't need to understand how a hope would reliably apply to you / your child, you just need to see it out there and be reminded of it's irrefutable impact.

As you can tell -- and as usual -- I have no one, simple answer.  What most gives me hope depends on the where and why and how far gone I am, with my hopelessness.  But then, I think keeping myself consciously open to finding hope in different places and forms is part of what has kept me from needing antidepressants, during certain periods of our son's life.  Whether I'm desperately polishing silver linings or chasing brief shafts of light through the dim and rain, the fact that I have this amazing and precious child to hope for means that there IS hope.