| Tuesday, 9 September 2008 |
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Shannon is back! Today I made the trip to the airport, met her at the gate, drove her back to our domicile, and now my empty apartment is a home again. I mean, the cats are great, but it's just not the same. Already the place is being reorganized and restructured, everything lined up the way Shannon likes it and needs it to be, she's been bustling about behind me picking up things and putting them away as soon as I put them down, the blinds are being closed for the evening as I write this and it's just…
It's all pretty darned good.
Like most autisics Shannon brings OCD to a truly sublime level. Rigid routine, structure and the meticulous organization of everything in her universe (including, a lot of the time, me) is comforting to her, helps her deal with stress and sensory overload. She needs to do it, she needs me to do it with her and for her, and figuring this out early on went a long way towards gradually defusing the terrifying tantrum syndrome. Growing with her was an incredible learning experience for both of us, and once I started making the connection between the TV remote being in the wrong place and her going ballistic all over the living room, I decided it might be a good idea to start putting it where she wanted it to be and leaving it there already. Along with gradually learning and implementing all the other various routines and rituals she needed in order to be able to feel safe and secure in her personal universe.
Don't think it was always easy. More than once I found having to follow the restrictions her requirements placed on me arbitrary, annoying and extremely confining. I mean, what the heck did it matter if the blinds were opened three inches instead of two? And geez, the world wasn't going to come to an end if every single stinking condiment wasn't lined up in precise row in a certain order on the door shelf in the fridge.
Well, yes and no. Maybe my world would keep on spinning on its comfortably chaotic axis. Casual clutter had worked for my just fine before Shannon came into my life. But I told myself this wasn't about me. While I was able to adapt, she wasn't. It wasn't her fault if she needed everything about her to be organized in an exacting and precise way, and if it made her feel good to do it and to have things all her way, I should just suck it up and do it already.
I was the adult, I was the one capable of changing and adapting, and also able to understand the need for it, so I was the one who had to do it.
Funny thing, the more I dug in and conformed, the less I resisted her need to control everything in her environment, the more I gave her what she needed, the better things got. Feeling safe, in control and understood, she stopped screaming. Knowing I was seeing her and getting what she wanted and needed, she realized she didn't have to put all that frantic and horrific energy into attempting to communicate basic wants and needs. She started calming down, 'coming out' venturing beyond her immediate comfort zone of me and our personal bubble. She started talking more, allowing limited contact from other people, got better about being in public to the point I could take her places I'd never dreamt possible a few short years previous, and she eventually learned to deal with the sort of stimulation that used to send her into a screaming frenzy.
No, it hasn't been easy, but it's been so worth it. And not just on Shannon's side. I've learned a few things too, about self-discipline, and the comforting simplicity of order and structure. It's kinda nice to know where everything is, and to not have to think about planning your day. In an odd way, structure is very liberating. Something I may or may not have come around to eventually learning if not for Shannon.
Besides, bonus situation here, the kid is cleaner than I am. And she never runs down. Buzzing around snapping up stuff as soon as I'm done with it, tossing it in the garbage bin, the recycle bin or the dishwasher, or where ever appropriate. Nothing piles up in this place, let me tell you!
And besides, how many people can say their nineteen year old daughter's room is immaculate and they didn't have to lift a finger or spend hours nagging her for it to get that way?
Yep, Shannon's home, and everything that means is right with my world again.
I know, not too profound, but I felt like sharing it anyway.
Enjoy and blessingsPhoenix |
posted by The White Dove Partnership @ 20:35  |
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