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Parentistic

mr.chip

My apologies for the subject title. I have a liking for making up words in my own writing, but 'parentistic' is a lacklustre attempt at a neologism (hmm, interesting how 'auto correct' suggests 'geologist' for 'neologism') as far as current trends go. I can't see it catching on. Anyway, at the risk of having got some kind of attention (I'm just a lonely middle-aged man) I shall wrap up this rather pointless opening paragraph.

I love my children. At the risk of upsetting the censor, I will furtively mention here that I really don't think I would carry on if it wasn't for the fact that I've managed to reproduce myself and I feel that I owe it to them to be their dad. I endure and enjoy their presence at the same time. 'Endure' may sound like the 'wrong word' (a lot of words I use tend to find consensus in somehow being wrong) but perhaps other parents may understand that enduring and enjoying the presence of one's children can seem quite apt. Their mum is 'officially' autistic - I'm in that eternal grey area of being told that I'm autistic but am unlikely to receive the official member's club welcome (that's right, I do at least try to have a sense of humour, even though I'm witless) as I see right through the AQ10 forms etc and don't seem to either understand 'choice' or have any will of my own. I don't think that I am autistic, but I think I'm finding it harder to mask whatever it is that I'm not since my most recent nervous breakdown and the doctors just look at me funny when I suggest anything pertaining to the schizophrenia spectrum or dissociative disorders, and they seem more in their comfort zone when regarding me as an autistic man. So maybe I am something after all.

I'm getting there...

Genetic studies of course suggest that the children of autistic parents are more likely to be autistic themselves. Both my children are 'juniors' now: my son is in year 5 and my daughter is in year 3. I'm doing what I can for them, in my own unique way, and their mum is doing great with them, especially since we separated three years ago. I thought I'd 'lost' them when I had to go into hospital for a while, but I think it is largely because I am still friends with my ex-wife that I can still consider myself a father. I would anyway, of course, but it would be harder without her support and encouragement. I'm worried about my children. I think that it's only going to get worse - my worrying that is, not necessarily my children's prospects. They are already talking about how 'different' they feel they are amongst other children and, if they follow in their parents footsteps, the dreaded life-long weight of 'not fitting in' will surely cast a shadow over the innocence of life before long. My wife suffered with bullying. I somehow managed to avoid direct exposure to it, though only because I managed to mask and unfortunately deflect attention away from myself in ways that other less camouflaged children couldn't. My intelligence helped keep me 'beyond the radar', so to speak, and it was more so towards the end of formal schooling when I realised that I just can't function independently. So I'm guilty of projecting my own fears of the crushing burden of impending adolescence upon the next generation, but the fears are real. We're not rich (I don't even work) so it'll have to be the local comp, in an area which is new to me and my own paranoia inhibits me from reaching out to other parents or school staff, probably as much as my ex-wife's own anxieties. The children probably sense the frustration that we are 'different' parents and that they are 'different' children. Yes, the hope of inclusivity etc is precisely that - a hope that things can be better as generations evolve. 

That last paragraph was a bit on the chunky side, and I've forgotten who I am anyway. Something about being a dad, being a good person even and being lonely but reaching out for help. Sounds familiar. I'll probably forget that I even wrote this and wake up believing that I'm sane, or something silly like that. Yeah, it's been tough. Knowing that it's tough for many gets me through. Not in a schadenfreude sense though (I know that every other person, especially men, are accused of being 'narcissists' these days, but I don't think I am) but in the sense of gaining strength from collective suffering and sharing in the struggle of life which I'm a part of. Empathy, that's it. I have empathy - I just don't know how to express it. Well, I don't know how to express a lot of things. I'm a good person though. Yeah, I must be. My mum says I am.

I think that's it. Life's hard. But I've got to keep going for the children.

  • It must be something about a Friday night, I was sitting failing to read a book a really want to read (I think I am having a falling out with the author), and started worrying about my kids and highschool. 

    My son will start highschool next August, and was diagnosed last December. He struggled with friendships but in the last few years due to it being a small rural school and his interest being gaming, he's been part of the group more. But after the summer, there is only one other boy moving up (it's a mixed year class), and now I know he and I are autistic, it is very obvious in him. (We both being recent to diagnosis).

    High school was awful for me, and I've always been terrified of my kids being bullied too. At their small school, that thankfully hasn't been too bad -they've struggled to connect with others, and my daughter is really struggling in the playground, but they at least don't have the bullying, just the being different and not fitting in well.

    Other 'different' male kids who have gone to the local highschool have been physically attacked, sometimes on their first day. Trying to not pass fears on but simultaneously thinking of home educating if it doesn't work out. (Not helped by their teacher telling everyone about what had happened to that boy).

    Just being there as a presence can be a comfort for kids.

    And I just wanted to add you have an entertaining writing style, so don't worry about the meandering thoughts, I did better with it then the book I was trying to read.