Taking a break from autism is flying twenty-three hours to attend your high school drama club reunion.
It’s welling up till your eyeliner does that raccoon thing.
It’s leaving the reunion to attend another one at a fancy hotel with other high school friends.
It’s falling asleep while your sisters chat and work, and waking up to feel one of their hands on your head, knowing they are taking you in and reveling in your presence.
It’s everything. Rediscovering the pleasures of rest, laughter, and uncomplicated togetherness.
It’s remembering who you were Before Autism.
Taking a break for FOB autism families is also layered with complexity, no?
It’s wondering how to achieve rest in the midst of your parenting lives when you have minimal fallback system.
It’s getting sermons about being more chirpy and less broody, and trying not to lose faith in people who sound righteous and honestly, kinda bonkers.
It’s yearning for the ongoing presence of people who complete the picture but not being able to get away to reconnect with any regularity.
It’s socializing so infrequently that you don’t even care if you don’t.
Returning to autism is everything too.
It’s returning to your now-home and marveling at the beautiful faces of spouse and children. There’s no one like them. They are the beloveds you must have dreamed when you were part of the starry ether.
It’s putting the feels away like you do the suitcases.
It’s taking up the reins again.
It’s back to being quiet and doing a lot of observing.
It’s being a different person and knowing that the dissonance will not resolve in your lifetime.
It’s hugs and twitchiness and romps and a different kind of laughter.
It’s love that was fated for you when you were birthed.
It’s everything, and it’s yours.