My Midlife Crisis

Most of my teenage and young adult years were filled with whining, self-pity and selfishness. For decades, I prayed (more like complained) to God about my problems. I questioned my self-worth. I cursed the world and the people around me for hurting me and for pushing me into my sorry state. I remember vividly my “crazy” days- when I’d sit in front of my mirror for hours talking to myself and crying (I was recently shocked when I was told that this was not “normal”). The world around me was expected to stop because I was having an emotional crisis. 

I was a drama queen most of my life.

It was when I moved to the United States that I started to let go of (some of) the craziness. Because daily life was so hectic and stressful, I eventually found it harder and harder to succumb to sadness. I remember one day when my daughter was a few weeks old and I was depressed I began to “emote.” I began crying about something I no longer remember (I’m sure it was minor). I tried to push myself deeper into the emotions, like I used to when I was younger. I wailed for only a few minutes because my baby began to cry too. So I stopped crying. My tears had to wait until my daughter was better.

First-time motherhood in America was so tough that
I decided to chop off my hair. (Hmm, I had my regrets :) )

Parenthood does that to us. We put our children’s needs first, as it should be. But what happened to me was the extreme. After a while, everyone’s needs were first. My wishes were less important than the rest of the family. My needs could wait. My dreams could be abandoned. I built my life around my family. They became my life. Being ME could wait until they were all better.  

At 38, I looked much older (and honestly, uglier) than my
66-year old mother (rightmost).

I remember when my American friends were talking once about spending a weekend in Vegas for R&R. I thought, “how selfish! Why go on a vacation without the children? Families should be together as much as they can.”  I spent a decade like that. I took care of everyone except myself. 

When Ton was diagnosed with autism, I was all the more convinced that my happiness and wellbeing would have to wait. Ton is priority. Then the other kids. Then my husband. Then if there’s still time and energy, maybe me. But there was rarely any left for me and even if there was, I felt too guilty to seize the opportunity.

I don’t regret those years that I put everyone else first. During those times, it was what was needed, specially by Ton. Because I put my needs last, I was able to push full-force battling Ton’s autism. I was able to obsess about helping him get better because nothing was more important. I did not resent him nor the rest of the family for the time and energy I spent on his intervention. I didn’t even feel I needed to be rewarded for being such “a great mom” (as my close friends and family would call me). I did it all for love. 

His happiness came first. It still does.

For years after Ton’s diagnosis, I kept giving my all. Until one day I realized that there was none left for me. When Ton started to get better, he needed me to be less obsessed with intervention and more trusting in his ability to overcome the autism. The other children also started to be more independent and needed me less. My husband eventually settled into his OFW status and our long distance marriage. 

One day, I was actually bored and I began to feel depressed again because I was 40. I was “old,” felt fat and ugly and I had no life of my own to speak of. I had abandoned my hobbies. I rarely socialized. Without my family to obsess about, I realized that I knew little of who I had become. But unlike in my youth when I would sit in front of the mirror and cry, I decided to simply do something about it (or maybe I just didn’t have enough mirrors in my house).

For years I kept telling myself, "nevermind if you're fat, at
least you have a happy family." Eventually, that excuse was
no longer enough and I became very unhappy with myself.

I vowed that by 41, I would look decent again. I enrolled in the Cohen program and after dropping 65 pounds in six months, I had never felt better physically. The weight loss allowed me to pursue my old hobbies and interests, my favorite of which was ballet. I enrolled in Ballet Philippines’ ladies ballet class and wanted to cry with happiness during my first class. I was pursuing my childhood dream after all, though not professionally. 

Dropping ten dress sizes allowed me to fit into nicer looking clothes. I had already stopped crying in front of mirrors years ago. Because I had dropped from a size 16 to a size 6, I no longer cringed when I’d look at myself in the mirror. I began to feel pretty again. I decided that I would put in more time to fix myself. I bought a whole new wardrobe, worked out, went to the spa and salon regularly and am trying to  slow down aging (I finally used moisturizers and lotion at age 40!). 

I've always loved ballet but in my 40s
I discovered my love for boxing.

Because I started to feel comfortable with my appearance, I then had more confidence to socialize. My husband and I would go on weekend dates and I started to meet up with old friends occasionally. It also became easier for me to make new friends because I was no longer worried that they would think I was ugly or fat. In fact, it has now come to a point where I no longer care what people say about my appearance. I am happy with the way I look. Mine is the only opinion that matters now. 

When I was bigger, I shunned social events. Not anymore.
I actually look forward to getting out of the house and just
laughing (here with my sisters).

At 43, I became the happiest I had been in a while. I felt that I knew myself better and was empowered once again. I had a confidence that I never had before in my life and I felt that I finally knew who I was and what I wanted in life. 

Having a birthday mojito

Of course there were times when I’d feel guilty. At the start, I’d feel bad about the few hours I’d spend in the gym, spa or salon every week. Eventually, though, those times had become sacred rituals. They became my ME time. The family found it hard at first to adjust to Mama not being available all the time but they got used to it in the end. I think it was because they saw how happy I had become in the last few years. 

THAT was what I never realized before. By being selfless and putting everybody before me, I deprived them of the fulfillment of allowing me to be happy as well. Everyone became selfish and entitled because I allowed them. By asserting my right to happiness, my children have learned that, sometimes, even when they don’t get what they want (and mom does), they can be happy too because they see someone they love happy. 

Many joke that people who decide to makeover their lives in their 40s are going through a midlife crisis. Mine was not a crisis but a metamorphosis. I evolved. I left my shell. I was no longer just wife and mother, there was finally a self I unearthed from beneath the roles that I’ve portrayed all these years. The beauty of it all is that, though the changes cause me to take time away from family, our home has become better because I now value myself. Again, as I said before- by being a better person, I became a better mother (I don’t know about “wife,” you’ll have to ask my husband :) ).

My husband and I have discovered that we enjoy
traveling without the children sometimes. Long ago,
I would have considered us "selfish."

Life is not all peachy. We often make adjustments because it’s like there’s a new family member with her own schedule and needs. Sometimes old habits pop up. Sometimes I’m the one who feels entitled (and my husband has to keep me grounded). In the end, though, I have no regrets. There will always be challenges and conflicts. Unlike in the past, however, I am now strong enough to assert myself. Nowadays, the resolution to any problem will definitely take into account what is good for me too. 

From the extreme selfishness of my youth, to unhealthy selflessness of my early motherhood, I have now found balance. In my 40s I found my center. Now if only I can stop talking to myself in the mirror about my happy thoughts… :)

The crazy girl has found balance.

New Beginnings

In August, Ton will be moving to a new school. After five years in regular schools, our parents' instincts tell us that it's time to look at other options for our son with autism. We have finally accepted that, though they are a more socially-acceptable choice for our family, regular schools are not the best environment for Ton.

For five years after Ton's diagnosis, he managed to cope with the demands of two regular schools. Preschool is generally easy for a high-functioning autistic child. Educational expectations are low. Social norms are still being learned by most children. And, let's face it, autistic or not, children are cute and can get by with just charm.

In his first regular preschool, every school day was highly-
structured and predictable. Ton was able to anticipate and
self-regulate.

At seven years old, though, Ton was in a Montessori classroom with a very low percentage of high-functioning special children and was no longer coping. Academically, he could barely go through lessons because of his difficulty to regulate and to concentrate. His Dev. Ped. actually said that, aside from his autism, Ton's condition probably had the co-morbidity of Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD).

At the start of the school year, Ton easily finished
work like this. By November, he would start the work
and end up throwing the triangles into the air.

In terms of communication, he was still talking like a four year-old. He still could not converse with most adults, much less with other children. This caused a huge social gap with his classmates. Juan, a six-year old boy in his class was told by Teacher Leah once, “Juan, talk to Ton. I think he wants to play with you.” Juan just said, “but Teacher, when I talk to him he doesn't talk back.” So Juan stopped talking to Ton.

Ton would sometimes want to play with his classmates but
he didn't know how to tell them. When his classmates tried
to talk to him, he wouldn't respond; so they stopped trying.

Due to his language difficulties, also, Ton started to become physically aggressive in school. Out of the blue, he would push children with force. He would intentionally break items in the classroom to get attention. Then he began to hit his teachers and other children. First, softly but eventually the blows became strong enough for the adults to complain to me. (It broke my heart one day when a little girl in Ton's class said to me, “are you Ton's mom? Ton is always bad.”)

I worked with the teachers, his therapists, the Dev Ped and his natural medicine doctor to find remedies to the negative behaviors that Ton was exhibiting. The therapists and the Dev Ped were unanimous- the lack of structure in the Montessori classroom was not helping Ton regulate. The flexibility of his work schedules caused him to space out and stim (do repetitive behaviors). The lack of opportunities that “force” children to socialize (like group activities and structured PE games and activities, for example) was pushing Ton further into his own world.

And so, once again, we had to make a tough decision to pull Ton out of his Montessori school. It was the same school I (and all my siblings) studied in for preschool and grade school and the same school that my two neurotypical girls go to. So pulling Ton out would be breaking tradition. When I finally pulled him out, we lost the reservation fee for the next school year and Ton missed the last three weeks of classes. And when I said goodbye to Ton's excellent, extra-caring and hardworking (to the extent of deviating from the school's typical Montessori interpretation) teacher, Leah, there was so much sadness that we both cried.

With much sadness we say "goodbye and thank you" to
Teacher Leah, who worked so hard with Ton (and me) and
poured herself into helping Ton get better.

Ton's new school is primarily a special school, having been founded by a former learning specialist for one of the Philippines' top international schools. This specialist worked for years with special children in the Washington, D.C. public school system. This is why I was convinced that this was the next step for Ton after just one visit. There was so much special education experience among the faculty; but more than that, you could see and feel their passion for their work. I came out of my school visit with so much optimism for Ton.

We have to wait and see though. New beginnings are not always easy. They are exciting, full of hope and happiness. However, while these fresh starts seem to be full of promise, they are equally frightening. Our old ways, relationships, and lives were predictable and, sometimes, even bland. Day in and out we knew what to do, as if we were on cruise control. We could even predict the effects of certain precedents and avoid unpleasant outcomes. They may not have been exciting and ecstatic, but they were steady and (minus a few minor bumps here and there) smooth-sailing.

I could keep Ton in his old school and hope. I loved his teacher in Montessori. She was very cooperative and full of good intentions. I was very comfortable with the staff, from the head of school to the aides. My relationships with the key people in the school were so strong that I could come in anytime and request to observe Ton's class. I could give suggestions and tips that everyone can use to help him. My friends in the staff would even go out of their way to check up on Ton, make sure he was okay and progressing.

Ton could keep on going to a “regular school.” I would not be shy to tell people the name of the school because it is not known for its special education program (in fact, it does not have any). I would be assured daily that there are lots of substitute “mommies” in the school who would make sure that no harm falls on my baby boy. I could continue with the family tradition and wait for Ton to graduate from the old school.

I had wanted all my children to study in the same Montessori
school that I went to. (Here are the 3 little ones proudly
wearing their school hoodies.)

But I realize now, that unlike with relationships or old patterns that we cling on to so strongly, Ton doesn't have the luxury of time. He cannot spend another school year with us just hoping that this school would finally “work” for him. Yes, while his every day in Montessori had become “predictable,” what it really meant was- yes, today, he will hit his teacher again, refuse to work and break a glass/vase/bowl. That is what “predictable” meant during the last month he was in Montessori. It was obvious that it just was not working for our child.

So in June (for summer school), we will be venturing into the unknown, armed with excitement and new hopes that this new approach (the special school- something the experts have been telling me forever but I refused to follow) will be a more effective, and therefore lasting, way of life for Ton. I pray he will be happy in his new school and that, finally, we will be on a faster track of progress towards Ton's independence and, with much hope, college.

We're looking forward to a bright, beautiful future for Ton.

I commit to this decision now. As we start fresh we will bring with us learnings from the past. We will be smarter and not make the same mistakes. We will strive harder to make it work. And once we're convinced it is the right fit, we will hold on as long as it does us good and not let go. Hopefully this is the final new beginning that will lead us to our happy ending.

Here's to our final new beginning.

Steps and Turns

It's amazing how some people knew as kids what they wanted to become as adults. I never had a clear picture for most of my life. First, I wanted to be a doctor; hence, my two years in BS Biology. Then, my parents said I should transfer to Food Technology ("because everybody needs to eat food!" my father said). I got that degree, but after four years of counting microorganisms, doing QA on food ingredients and products, and product development of various food items (such as meat-free hotdogs), I finally found my calling as a preschool teacher. I was 28 when I discovered my passion (though I was only able to spend three years as a teacher before having to leave for the US). 

Uyyy, it's Teacher Aya!

Just as crazy as the many years I spent finding my passion, Ton's autism journey has been full of shifts, lapses and setbacks. My son has just come out of his biggest regression ever. For two months he was speaking less and had uncontrollable aggression. It’s been two weeks since we finally learned to manage his behavior. With renewed vigilance, I have been in more regular contact with his therapists and have began to work again intensely with his natural medicine pediatrician, Dr. Girl Leones.

Admittedly, we allowed Ton to deviate markedly from his Gluten-Free, Casein-Free  (GFCF) diet. This dietary intervention is based on the belief that children with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) are biologically unable to fully-digest gluten (wheat protein) and casein (dairy protein) like typical children. Because breakdown of gluten and casein are only partial, there are many by-products and toxins that are left in the body. Such by-products cause off-behaviors in children with autism. The holidays, our trips abroad and out-of-town, frequent restaurant visits, his visiting-from-New York Kuya Paolo and mere complacency on my part allowed Ton to enjoy fast food, wheat and dairy products and processed food. 

Deviations to his GFCF diet often cause
negative behavior changes

It had gotten so bad that even when we were bringing Ton to Dr. Girl one month ago, he was wildly kicking and hitting us (Yaya and I) as soon as we arrived at the lobby of the Medical Plaza, Makati. And then, when we arrived at the clinic, Ton climbed on top of the examination bed with shoes on. He grabbed things on the doctor’s desk. He was restless and had difficulty sitting still for his physical. When the evaluation was done, he ran to the waiting area to play with the toys. I was drained from restraining him at the lobby. But more than anything, I was devastated because he was more like the four-year old Ton than the calm, communicative six-year old that Dr. Girl first saw in June 2013.

Ton's first visit to Dr. Girl Leones in 2013

I knew that his poor diet was to blame but as Dr Girl looked through our regimen of supplements, she noticed deficiencies due to brand changes. I underestimated new dosages. Dr. Girl noticed that our magnesium dosage was greatly lacking. Magnesium is believed to have a calming effect on many ASD kids. She increased frequency of the Magnesium to twice a day. She also felt that because of poor GFCF compliance over the last few months, it was highly probable that Ton had yeast overgrowth. 

It is a strong belief among natural medicine doctors that increased wheat and sugar consumption causes proliferation of yeasts (fungi) in the body. Because Ton had been eating pizza, ice cream, cakes and juices, it was highly probable that yeasts were feasting on the sugars in Ton’s body. Dr. Girl immediately recommended a month-long round of a strong prescription anti-fungal, Diflucan.

Diflucan is initially given at half-dose for ten days to get the body adjusted to the strong effects of the anti-fungal. Die-off reactions occur with very strong anti-fungals. These reactions include increased hyperactivity, tantrums and stimming (repetitive behaviors like spinning and waving arms). In fact, with a strong anti-fungal, the child gets worse before he gets better. After ten days, the dosage is given twice a day for another 20 days. Diflucan is so strong that after our 30-day cycle, Ton will need to have a blood test done to determine whether his liver functions were affected by the strong drug.

We're already done with Diflucan. Still, we have to continue arresting the negative effects of yeast overgrowth. So, we will start on what Dr. Girl calls “the anti-fungal parade.” It is a sequence of rounds of different natural anti-fungals- caprylic acid, Saccharomyces boulardii, uva ursi, grapefruit seed extract and Candex (a combination of different natural enzymes). We will have two weeks each of these natural supplements, gradually ridding Ton of most of the fungi in his body.

Participants in the "anti-fungal parade"

This anti-fungal parade is done together with a series of probiotics. We have 4 different brands now- Dr. Ohira’s probiotics, Culturelle, PB8 and local brand Erceflora. The probiotics are given alternately, thrice a day. The goal is to promote growth of good bacteria that can keep levels of yeasts and bad bacteria under control.

Members of the probiotics group

Aside from the anti-fungals, Ton also ingests daily dosages of a special multivitamin (recommended for autism), Cod liver oil, Calcium, Magnesium, Zinc, GABA and Pycnogenol, He also needs to take digestive enzymes before each meal to help him break down his food better and to facilitate proper digestion and absorption of vitamins and minerals. 

All of these supplements/probiotics/anti-fungals are administered orally. They are either chewable or in capsule, liquid or gel form. The capsules are opened and the powders dissolved in liquids such as his morning green juice (with sayote, malunggay, celery, singkamas, kangkong, cilantro and green apple), evening red juice (sugar beets, carrots, garlic, celery, and red apple) or calamansi juice. 

Ingredients of Ton's green juice

Until recently, I never imagined that all my 24 units of chemistry, my degree in Food Technology and 2 years of pre-med would come in handy as a full-time mother. When Dr. Leones explains metabolic pathways, I'm grateful I took Chem 160 (Biochem). When she talks about yeasts and how they break down sugars to carbon dioxide and ethanol, I thank my food microbiology and food processing subjects. When she speaks of gluten and casein, the Food Tech in me remembers how gluten forms the matrix within the bread dough and how casein particles formed the cheese structure when we made white cheese out of milk through the action of rennet (an enzyme extracted from the stomach of some mammals). Eight years (2  years on leave) of a college education I never used for long were helping me understand biomedical intervention.

Me (middle) after 8 years of college, 2 courses, 2 campuses,
1 wedding and 1 baby later

What's more amazing than a child predicting his future profession? That what I once thought was wasted time (by shifting from BS Bio to Food Tech) or wasted knowledge (from Bio subjects I didn't need for my Food Tech degree) or even a wasted degree (because as a preschool teacher, I did not have use for a Food Tech degree), would all one day fall into place and prove precious in making me a better mother. I realize now that all the steps I took and the turns I made in college were all part of a plan (I used to be unaware of) and not decisions to regret. Funny how they all ended up being useful to me eventually. Even back in college, without my knowing it, I was already being prepared for our autism journey. 

Things really did happen for a reason, a very special reason- TON.

I had to live through my crazy college years so that I can
help you live through these tough years.

Young love

My 11-year old daughter Gabby has a crush. I remember my 6th grade crush now. How he said he liked me but that he will consult with fortune tellers first to find out if we were compatible. Imagine that! I was heartbroken because the fortune tellers said I was not his destiny. Of course I moved on (or did I? :) ) and had many other crushes after 1982 but now that Gabby talks about her crush, I feel and share her happiness and giddiness. I see her eyes sparkle. I welcome the latest news about him.

Me, 6th grade (1982)

Gabby, 6th grade (now)

I pray that I will have conversations like that with Ton, too, one day. I want him to talk to us about how to ask a girl out to the prom, how to behave in front of her parents. I want his eyes to sparkle. I want him to fall in love and marry. It’s a long shot, for now, but I want to believe that he will break out of his shell finally and experience the highs and lows of love, the successes and disappointments of life. 

Let me run through the major barriers we have to overcome before we get to marriage. (Mothers always over-think things, don’t they?)

1. He has to learn to control his emotions and self-regulate.
2. He has to learn the rules of conversation. How to listen, when to talk.
3. He has to be able to read body language and facial expressions.
4. He will have to develop Theory of Mind. "Theory of mind (often abbreviated "ToM") is the ability to attribute mental states- beliefs, intents, desires, pretending, knowledge, etc.- to oneself and others and to understand that others have beliefs, desires, and intentions that are different from one's own." (Wikipedia)
5. He will need to go through school at a steady pace and eventually receive enough education that will allow him to hold a job and be productive.  

     I’m sure there are many more steps. 

I don’t worry about looks. My son is handsome and charming (when he wants to be). Meeting a girl? She’ll be smitten as long as he is well-mannered and respectful. I won’t worry about fortune tellers because my son is himself a mystery. I’m sure, though, that he is destined for greatness. In what way or form, I don’t know. As he is now, he has already been a blessing to us. And our lives are much greater because of him. But when Ton finally has a crush or girlfriend, it will be a big deal to me.

C'mon! What's there to not love?!

When my 22-year old son, Paolo, first had a girlfriend it was uneventful. Having grown up in California, Paolo introduced her to me only after bumping into her during his graduation. I had to restrain myself from feeling giddy for Paolo because he said it was not very serious yet. In a few months, it was over and I did not have the chance to see his eyes sparkle with love. It probably didn’t even get that far.

I am thankful that Gabby thinks that I am an acceptable audience for her “kilig” stories. It’s what moms are supposed to do- hopefully until adulthood (though I doubt it). So I cherish these moments now. I never told my mom about my 1982 crush. She only heard about him in my 40s when I was no longer scared that she would get mad because I liked a boy. Gabby’s candidness about boys and crushes are welcome anytime, even when she’s 40.

In 12 years we will know if Ton will go to the prom; if he will be nervous about meeting her parents or if he will ask Dad for relationship advice. For now we will work harder; because there is a new objective for all this hard work. Whereas 5 years ago, the goal was for Ton to talk and be potty-trained, today it has become this- to prepare Ton to live a full, enriching life (love or no love). And though this is a goal we wish for all our kids, it holds a deeper, more special meaning for Ton. It means he overcame the “impossible” and has triumphed over his condition. His potential is no longer bound by the restrictions of autism or impressions of society. He won.

I want to see your eyes sparkle and to see you in love.

I don’t believe in fortune tellers but I believe in destiny. And I believe that in 12 years I will be too busy ironing his suit and buying a corsage for his date that I won’t even have time to give you an update. In the meantime...

Believe with me.

Seminar on Inclusive Education

I was invited to this. Maybe others are interested to attend this too.

Fear

I used to think that strength meant the absence of fear. I thought I was weak because I hated airplane rides or roller coasters. I refuse to ride in the same flight with my husband (without the children) for fear of leaving the kids (specially Ton) without parents. I am afraid of getting caught in traffic while under the EDSA- Ayala/Pasay Road underpass. And since I lost my 60 pounds, I’ve feared gaining the weight back. 

As I stepped onto my stepper last week after almost three weeks without exercise, I realized this- though it is true that fear immobilizes many and causes inaction, harnessing this same fear also allows one to arm herself with weapons to fight it. Take my fear of weight gain. 

For a whole decade I was overweight, even obese. But since losing 60 pounds two years ago, I’ve managed to stick within my ideal weight range. My secret? The fear of becoming fat again. I refuse to go back to that slow-moving, sickly, unhappy 200-pound person. But, unlike most dieters, I am not harsh on myself. I indulge and give in to my cravings; sometimes because the moment calls for it (like family gatherings), other times because eating gives me short-term happiness.

The fear of fat keeps me fit.

Often, over the holidays or when family comes from abroad to visit, it is not uncommon for me to gain a few pounds. Once I see, though, that I’m nearing a ten-pound weight gain I start freaking out. 10 is when I get scared of becoming obese again. And, unlike many rebound dieters who allow the weight to slowly creep back, for me it is at this point where the fear drives me to arrest the downward spiral. I take action- eat healthier, exercise more intensely and regularly. Pretty soon, I lose the 10 pounds and I’m back at my happy state. 

When Ton’s hitting/kicking episodes escalated two weeks ago, I entered a dark phase of my life once again. My depression was intense. I was almost ready to give up. I felt like this a few times before in this autism journey but this time was different. I had a new realization that hurt deeply- Ton was special and would live his lifetime with major regressions. I once again feared for the future of my baby boy. Was he going to be forever a nuisance to society because of his aggression? I also felt the most helpless and hopeless in our five years of battling autism.

Ton regressed due to a number of factors including frequent
deviations from his GFCF diet over the holidays.

Once again, like during Ton’s diagnosis, I grieved. I mourned for the lost opportunities that typical children would have that Ton would not experience. I mourned for the diminishing possibility of Ton going to a regular high school or of him having a meaningful job. I had to painfully accept that Ton would need special assistance and guidance from his family throughout his life and that he will never really be like other kids his age. I also resigned myself to the fact that Ton would finally have to enter a special school because there was no longer any denying that most regular schools would not be good for him.

The holidays were fun because the family was complete but
it also meant more activity (less predictability of schedules)
and increased sensory stimulation for Ton.

I cried for weeks. I lost sleep but made up for it with lengthy naps throughout the day. I refused to socialize, leave the house. I pigged out almost every day. I was immobilized by my fear of a bleak future for Ton. Then one Monday I said to myself I would work out and diet again. That alone was a big step that allowed me to rebound from my depression. And while I was on the stepper, my mind began to work again- I would inquire with a new special school. I would talk to Ton’s teacher. I would accompany Ton to his therapy visits. I would read and research again. I will fight again.

I get many of my best ideas (for writing, scheduling, for life)
while working out. Added bonus- I feel happier after the
torture!

Last week, I slowly stepped out of the darkness of my depression and with it, Ton slowly stepped out of his hitting/kicking phase too. Because of my fear of the worst, I forced myself to work harder to help him and, by doing so, I brought Ton (almost) back to where he was two months ago. He’s not 100% there yet but he’s getting there slowly everyday. We’ve actually had no-hitting days lately and he’s been more compliant and communicative again. 

Our last period of regression was the toughest ever but I am
relieved that Ton has almost recovered from it and that he
is getting better again.

Like Ton, I’m still not at my ideal state. I haven’t lost my holiday-10 (pounds) but I’m getting there because I have been acting against my fear of obesity. And like in the past, I know it is possible as long as I work hard. 

People keep saying that we should “fear nothing but fear itself;” that fear makes us weak. I know now, that though my fears immobilize me temporarily, it is because I am afraid that my fears will come true that I force myself to act. The “fear of fear” is what makes me stronger. 

It really is interesting how Ton’s autism has brought out the best in me. I am surprised at what I have evolved into because of the many trials we've been through together. It’s refreshing that nowadays being depressed doesn’t make me want to die but to live longer so I can help Ton. I am smarter, stronger and healthier because of him.

In the end, this really wasn't meant to be just Ton’s journey but mine too. :)

Finding Hope

I've been gone a while. And though my last post was one of elation and celebration, the mild regression that came after was heartbreaking. So I decided to stop gloating and basking in Ton's gains. My superstitious self made me believe that because I was not humble with Ton's successes, the punishment was huge disappointments in Ton's behavior. So I stopped writing. 

But the disappointments kept coming. Since my last post, Ton has began hitting. First out of "gigil" and only to people he loves (his parents, yaya and therapists). Then it progressed to hitting out of uncontainable excitement (still only with adults). We tried to stop the behavior at that point and had some triumphs. But the hitting episodes continued to escalate to hitting and kicking due to music sensitivity then hitting due to anger.

These have been the lowest days in our journey. He has began hitting his classmates and siblings. Sometimes out of annoyance, other times out of excitement or a need to communicate. We have regressed to our lowest in terms of behavior. And I have stumbled on a major roadblock. This hurdle has been the toughest to overcome and I have never been this scared about Ton's autism in a very long time. 

Yesterday, I spent the whole day until 2am designing, printing, laminating and cutting visual tools to help him regulate his behavior. 

I made this to encourage self-regulation in exchange
for a reward.

I made this to teach him to unleash his anger on
inanimate objects instead of people.

I made this portable pillow to provide a suitable 
punching target for his sensory needs.

I made this to help him identify the difference
between hitting due to anger and that due to 
excitement; and then to act appropriately.

We've used verbal commands, rewards and punishments, stern reprimands, and gentle reminders. We've even tried to ignore the negative behavior. I'm running out of options. I now fear for his expulsion from school and angry mothers shouting at me when I pick him up from school. More than anything, I fear that we are on a downward spiral. 

When I imagine how people perceive him when he hits and kicks us in public, I realize, "now, there is no denying that he is a special child." I would like to say I don't care but I do. Because I know that he is more than the hitting and kicking. i know that he is smart and sweet. I just wish he would overcome this so that the old Ton would come back. 

I suddenly feel old and tired. Everyday I ask his teacher with so much hope, "how was he?" And still everyday I go home after picking him up more depressed and closer to desperation. I am now looking into alternative therapies. I've began to closely monitor compliance to his GFCF diet. We recently asked his biomedical doctor to reassess his supplements. And, like when Ton was first diagnosed 4 1/2 years ago, I am back at fever pitch working, reading, stressing and fearing. 

There's so much fear that, despite my lack of sleep, I am now here at the therapy center eager to find a solution to this dilemma. There must be so much fear in my face that, this morning after discussing Ton's behavior in school, his teacher (Leah) said, "halika nga. Wag ka naman ganyan. (Come here. Don't be like that.) Don't give up." Then she cried maybe (because she was so physically drained from his morning meltdown but also) because she could feel my pain and see my desperation. 

Sitting now in the therapy center, I look up from my laptop and watch special kids go in and out. I see them fidgeting, moaning unintelligible words, flapping their arms. Then a young girl (maybe 7) is carried in by two women. She is thin and cannot walk. She lays down next to me, cradled by one of her yayas because she's probably paralyzed. Her eyes roll around scanning the ceiling. She mumbles softly with occasional shrieks that make people stare. Her saliva drips from her mouth and bubbles form. 

I look at her, hiding my pity. Instead, I force a smile. I look away as tears begin to form in my eyes. How does her mother feel? I can only imagine. I'm sure she's more tired than I am. I'm sure she's more fearful for the future of her child. I'm certain that she often feels desperate. But she obviously hasn't given up. She hangs on to hopes of a better future for her daughter. Then suddenly, as I look again at the face of this (undeniably) special child, my forced smile becomes genuine and sincere. There is a beautiful soul inside that limp body, and it would be a pity if her parents stopped trying to bring her out.

My rare visits to this therapy center always leave me like this. I begin to feel hope, not only for Ton but for all these children. I am touched to see all the love that comes when parents/grandparents/yayas accompany these children here week after week. I am suddenly inspired by everyone else's journey and how they keep going, no matter how dire their children's states are. Most of all I am humbled. Who am I to whine? My child walks and talks. Yes, he hits others, but apart from that he is okay.

As I walk out, hand in hand with Ton, I smile around at the other families. I am going home happier, less desperate, humbled and grateful. Thank you.