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Autism: If I Were Well

22 Feb

It had been a really rough week. Hard to believe two weeks had past since we lost my son’s nearly nineteen year old cat. The pain was raw, and everything bothered me. I get like that when things hurt; my already sensitive nerves are overwhelmed by every little thing.

I spent the day before steaming with anger and frustration over things that I was unable to express. Communication is hard at the best of times – and this was not the best of times. It isn’t that such things only bother me when things are hard, but that the irritation I am able to suppress and redirect when I am well (knowing that I am very sensitive about such things, so it really isn’t the fault of other people) wants to come out in an explosion when my functioning is low.

The struggle didn’t get shared, however. I am getting better at holding it in until I can find some way to solve it, or express it better. Since my ability to express myself still isn’t close to the level where others can accept what I am saying (or even understand my point) I often find myself holding so much in that I am at the edge of being overwhelmed nearly all the time. The tiniest things can throw me over… even then I rarely explode, but do spend a lot of time alone and in tears as a result.

Though the plans had already been made, I still woke up that morning full of frustration over the things that had bothered me the day before – again, more because I couldn’t figure out a way to solve or communicate the issue than that it was actually the fault of another that I was feeling that way.

The plans had been made with my son, however, and were really important to him. We were to go downtown for a few necessary supplies, and then head out to the local SPCA with the hopes of adopting a cat.

I guess he learned that from me, and I in turn learned it from the loss of my Chiku. I got Chiku a week before my son was born, and she died a week before she turned 16. In the part of my life that I remembered, I had her longer than anyone at that point, and the loss hit me hard. They always do. I was determined that I would not get another cat as the pain was too much. That is the year I ended up adding three new cats to my home!

Then when I lost Gryff last summer, I knew I needed another dog. The pain was intense, and I could hardly even get up when Clara was given to me 15 days later. It hurt, but I knew she was necessary. So when my son lost China, the first week the pain was too much, but he knew that he would need another cat. He learned that from me.

I didn’t think it would be so hard to find a cat at the SPCA (there were 5 he was very interested in from the ages of 2years to 13years old – all were gone before we could even think about getting there) and I didn’t think it would be so easy to adopt a cat from the SPCA.

On the Friday afternoon, six kittens had been posted on their site, and three were gone right away. The three left were brothers, and all three had the personality my son was looking for – so we got there on Saturday half an hour before they opened, and waited in the car.

My husband came with us for all of this, and though in my mind he spent most of his time in the background, the very fact that he was there helped to calm me. He does that – especially when I am out.

In the main room were four kittens, two of them already spoken for. They were really cute – 10 weeks old, and very energetic and curious. My son and I spent quite a while playing with them before asking to see the other kittens we had come for.

We were taken to another room where we were greeted with meows from a small orange kitten. The two orange ones were also spoken for. My son walked over to a cage that was open, and a black and white kitten came straight to him. “He is usually very shy,” the worker said, “this is very unusual.” My son and that kitten spent the rest of our visit together, while I played with his brother, and pet some older cats in the room.

Obviously he is the one we decided to bring home – a six month old tuxedo named “Rocky Road.” (My son changed the name to Nicholas.)

And you know? Despite the pain, and the grief, and the frustration, and all the negative emotions and struggles I was feeling leading up to that moment, I really enjoyed spending that hour at the SPCA playing with those cats. And I thought, “I would love to volunteer here… if I were well.”

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