It's Not A Race

Dear Addie,

Change is in the air.

With fall schedules starting, our family is settling into new routines. Clara is back at college, and Gabe is beginning his last year of high school. Somehow, life suddenly feels like it’s in fast forward with how quickly everyone is growing up. After a long summer, this week feels like a fresh start for all of us. I wish things could change instantly for you, but I believe that, in the end, the good will outweigh the tough moments, so patience is still the name of the game we are playing. The week surely brought its fair share of changes, but you made real progress with your health, even if there were a few small setbacks. I’m happy to say we’re slowly finding our new normal together.

Lately, we’ve spent our days managing anxiety (and you're doing phenomenally with that), finding new ways to cope when needed, and figuring out what foods you can and can not handle through trial and error and a lot of logging. Having made a few successful short trips out and about to the store and, of course, your beloved car wash, we decided to try our hand at visiting a restaurant last night. I have to say it felt like a little look into the future, since Gabe was out with a friend, and it was just the three of us - something that will become our routine next year when Gabe leaves for college, but I digress.

The hostess was kind enough to seat us in a booth towards the back of the restaurant, where you could look out, but no one was behind you. After a quick scan of your surroundings, you yelled “potty!” where, lets be honest, has become a behavioral tactic of some kind where you just flush the toilet a bazillion times. It’s almost like you want to bombard your auditory system straight out of the gates, so anything else might just feel less disruptive. I’m literally guessing, but you’ve been doing this for awhile...

After flushing the toilet an absurd number of times and washing our hands, we headed back to the table to settle in. You became very interested in a small gaming device they had sitting there, not playing anything specific, but pushing all the buttons to see where they would lead. The waitress brought your drink and chips & salsa not too far behind. Now, if anyone knows you, they know you love salsa! The hotter the better, using the chip as just a vessel to get the salsa in your mouth. Having not tried this yet since having your GI issues, we held our breath as you dove in like it was your job! Not to be to graphic but recently when things don’t agree with you they come up almost immediately (I never thought I'd be adding vomit bags to our diaper bag, but here we are) After about a minute or two we took a collect exhale that this was going to be ok and salsa was now an approved food for you - yay! You were happy.

After about 30-40 minutes, you  still had not eaten very much, but the salsa (side note: we aren’t pushing much these days, letting your body guide you to what it needs) but you started to become uncomfortably still - kind of a weird description, right?! You were no longer reaching for your drink, the game, or any food; your breathing was starting to become heavy in your chest and rapid, your arms crossed and in your lap. Your eyes were shifting quickly around the restaurant - this was our sign that you had had enough and needed to leave. There was no outburst, just silent motions. We packed up, paid, and were walking to the car in no time. You could see the relief as soon as we got outside, no drama, just calm.

We got home, you got your jammies on, and went straight to bed. A reminder of how exhausting a restaurant experience can be for individuals with autism or severe anxiety. There is a lot to process in an environment like that, and unfortunately, so often exposure is the only way to find appropriate coping.

Addie, change is inevitable in life, and we saw more of this as we started to slide into our fall schedules this week. We are making slow and steady progress mentally and physically in your health journey, and that is truly something to be celebrated.

Always remember, baby girl, that progress is not a race it's your own pace.

We are SO proud of you and love you so much.

Love,

Mom