Why?

Why a bachelor's degree in Special Needs? Why go back to college? Why go through the frustration of realizing all the things I don't know and the exhausting effort of learning them?

I feared this question more than the cockroaches in my kitchen. 

I mumbled something about stigma and society in my admission interview. 

I deflected the question once again this week. 

But the truth is I've been asking myself the same question 1000 times. And in order to sit down at my laptop and do my homework, in order to read a number of books that I barely understand and in order to wake up every morning to go to school, I answer this question every day. Why? Because I need to find the place where I belong. Professionally, at least. Because I HAVE TO. I have to do this, I don't have another option. I don't give myself another option. I can't snap out of it. I can't forget autism. I can't not see the stigma. I can't pretend it didn't touch my life. I can't shake it out of my heart. 

I have never been happier in my life than I am since I started this college. I never loved going to school before. I never spent hours with a friend talking about what my ridiculously intelligent teacher said in class. I never bought books and started preparing an essay two months ahead of a deadline. I never waited for Monday and started crying when a class got canceled. This is better than I hoped. These people are amazing and they raise the stakes even higher. I promised myself I'll go gentle. I promised myself I'll accept my limits, yet here I am dreaming psychology terms I don't even know the meaning of. 

Why? Not just because it makes me happy. Happiness is not enough and happiness never lasts. Because it gives me peace of mind. Because I can breathe. I can come home and breathe. I don't think of autism every minute anymore. I don't feel useless anymore. I don't feel like I am not doing anything anymore. All those plans and dreams that I can not fulfill right now? I am fine with them. Because I know this will help me make them even better in the future. I feel the pain of growth. I am scared of failing. But I can breathe. After these years that felt like a millennia, I can finally breathe. 

And I have to trust myself that I can do this. Because it's worth it. Because it's what I'm supposed to do and it's where I belong. Under-read and all and without any idea what "epistemology" means. I wrote the definition down 3 times. Please don't bother.

Dear human.

Dear human,

This is your natural self writing. The one you work your ass for, to buy her salmon and French cheese and good coffee and a new black dress so she would feel appreciated. The one you protect by learning and trying to be the best at everything. The one for which you exhaust your body so she wouldn't feel useless and lazy. The very one. The one who's hurting. The one they abandoned. The one that's depressed. The one that's alone. The one that no one takes care of. This is me and I am writing to say: Dear human, I see you. Just like you see me. I see you too. I see everything you do so that people would see you and be proud of you. I see all that you do for me to feel loved and protected. I see all you do for us, as one. I see how you read and you try so hard even though you feel overwhelmed most of the time. I see how you try not to let things sink in when you are outside so you don't break down and start crying. I see how you drink a glass of wine or gin, or vermouth so you can pretend it's not so bad to be completely alone when you get home. I see how you're always so brave. And so resilient. God damn you are resilient! I see how you're always thinking of ways to make yourself loved. And I see how you remind yourself not to give a fuck sometimes. I see you, human. I see all of it. And I thank you.

One Saturday afternoon

I've noticed I find it hard to be genuine around people asking about my career, my plans for the future and why I've chosen to give up ambitions of being successful or moving to a different orchestra or even furthering my studies. I have chosen to specialize in something else instead. I've chosen to be fulfilled by what I have and be my best in this particular circumstance, I have chosen for my life and myself to be enough for me as is. People ask why. People start preaching that we (and by we they condescendly mean the entire human race apparently) have to strive for better, work harder, want more and achieve more. They say we should live up to our potential but what they actually mean is we should never be happy and fulfilled by what we have but constantly kill ourselves for more. Now don't get me wrong, I understand that there are gifted and talented people in the world who always have something to work towards, who always have something to dream about and a goal set in their minds and I respect that. I really do. But it's not me. Maybe it's because some of the very people who are now asking me what am I doing are the ones who years ago told me I would never amount to anything. The same people I had to prove myself to over and over again. The same people for which I was never enough. And now they're asking me with genuine surprise how come I have become enough for myself. How come I've become happy with who I am, at peace with my limits, proud of my achievements, however small they might be.
To be honest, I have just one answer: autism.
It was autism that taught me to be thankful for everything that I have. Because when a kid who doesn't speak utters one syllable to you, you treasure that syllable like your most valuable possesion. When a child who doesn't let anyone touch him gives you a hug, you feel like the luckiest person in the world. And then, all of a sudden, after many sleepless nights, after thousands of pages of strategies and forums and support groups, even when you lose what you held most dear you find something you might have never had before: perspective. You realize everything, every little thing, is a blessing. And I for one simply stopped having any ambition but that of making this world a more comfortable place for those I love. Not a pressurized place. Not a race for success and reputation. Not an endless fight for achievements. A comfortable place. A safe and loving place.
Also, in the midst of autism I learned I could never be the best. I could never be everything. I could never learn everything, know everything, understand everything. There would always be an unexpected turn along the way that would leave me baffled and helpless. There would always be so much that I can't control. And I used to feel so lost and useless when that happened. So defeated. So broken. And I would spend hours asking myself where did I go wrong, where did I fail. I probably didn't read enough, learn enough, listen enough. I probably lacked something essencial in my being. It was all my fault. And as I kept working with kids everythig became so much clearer. I was doing the best that I could and I was ok. They felt my love. Some of them I actually spoiled too much. But they felt my love. I knew that. I know that. I am sure of it. And I am sure that I am doing the right thing, in my own time and with the resources that I have. And I decided to offer myself the same patience, love and kindness that I offer my kids. I am gentle with myself now. So yes, in my proffessional life I chose not to worry myself and beat myself for things beyond my reach. But I do have dreams. Some of them quite big. But to each their own time. As for my personal life, I chose to stop fighting God. Because it was exhausting and it made me miserable. I am a christian, that is my identity, the core of my being, and for me, the best thing is to let God navigate this ship.

Autism Awareness Day 2018

When autism hit me, it hit me hard. I stopped sleeping well. For a while, I even stopped living my life. Autism became the main thought on my mind. I would live for it, read about it, cry because of it. Autism became my world: a very lonely planet with just my name on it. But, as a movie quote says, "I like to think I took the sourest lemon life offered me and made some great lemonade." I am a music therapist. I connect with children every day. I help them express themselves. I encourage them to step out of their shell. I give them comfort and love and I help them find their voice. They are my joy and inspiration. I do for them what I didn't have the chance to do for others in the past and they bring me peace and solace in the darkest of days. I am grateful for autism and I don't regret it entering my life not one bit. Autism taught me to love. Autism taught me to be patient and kind, strong and resourceful. Autism shaped me into the woman I am today.

The Elizabeth

This post might come as a surprise from someone whose recent posts talk of great years and amazing memories. Yes, that's all very true. BUT (you all knew this "but" will come) not all of my days are like that. Not everything in my life is perfect. Not everything in my heart is in its rightful place. I choose to count my blessings and focus on all the wonders God makes in my life but I do suffer. I do feel pain. I am brokenhearted and it's not easy to live with. I face things to. I battle them. And I lose. BIG TIME. But through all of that God is blessing me with the grace to see His love above all and be happy in my life as is. And no, I don't like talking about it, I choose not to talk about it, and especially not to anyone. So, as the new year unfolded I experienced some gloomy days. I just felt sad for all the things I lost, the people who weren't in my life, the memories I couldn't relive, the new ones I couldn't make. You know, just one of those moments when you start eating a lot of sweets and watching TV shows. And as I made my way through this I had colleagues tell me I was "sour" and I had to smile and nod through their "well intentions" just because I didn't know what to say. I do pour my heart out in this blog, but if you ever met me, you're either one of those few who know what's in my heart or you're in the group who can't say much more about me than the fact that I drink a lot of coffee, tend to be very arrogant and sarcastic and have the language of a sailor. I just don't answer "How you're doing?" with "I'm falling apart, eating my feelings, missing my loved ones and I basically have no wish to leave my house." - you know, I say "I'm fine, doing my job, taking every day as it comes, nothing much."
As I lived through these past few days I was a bit disappointed with myself. I had a plan of how I wanted to spend my next weekend, I had quite some hopes gathered up, but God stepped in and changed the plan. And that was alright. But however well we learn to navigate this life doing God's will, getting our hopes up for things which aren't meant for us seems to be in our nature. So a part of me was disappointed and sad. Very sad. All I could think about was how this isn't what I had planned and I kept imagining how things could have been if I would've done what I intended to. And I was disappointed with myself. I started to wonder where the girl who was happy with her life and God's doing went? Why couldn't I be happy with the new situation and let go of my silly dreams? Why couldn't I remember how content and peaceful I was just a few days back? And I prayed to God that He would help me get that feeling back. And then something unexpected happened: a simple, unplanned walk with a sister in faith. We hardly ever have time to just walk and talk. But this time we did. And she listened. She listened to as much as I was willing to tell and she didn't interrogate me. She didn't say anything out of the ordinary. She didn't try to fix me or change the way I felt. And just letting some things off my chest was so good for me! As I started talking to her I remembered I was happy with my life. I felt peaceful again. I didn't feel the need to change anything, not even the things which hurt me and make me sad. I accepted them as part of my story. And feeling this great relief and this weight being taken off my chest I realized something: she was my Elizabeth.
You see, when Mary was told by the Angel she was pregnant with Baby Jesus (though she had never been with a man), he also told her about Elizabeth, her cousin, who was also pregnant in her old age. And Mary must have been very frightened at that time, because probably no one was going to believe her and she could've been stoned in the street for it. So Mary left to visit her cousin Elizabeth, hoping that what the Angel told her was true, and that through that she would gain more confidence and clarity. And when Elizabeth saw her, she knew, without Mary saying a word. She knew and she understood. And just being with her and having someone validate her story I think gave Mary a lot of faith and confidence. So this sister of mine was my Elizabeth. And I can only hope I can be that Elizabeth for someone else. And I hope that if you go through something you can't really speak of, or if you feel like no one understands you or validates your story, I hope you find your Elizabeth. I hope you keep your eyes and your heart open for those people you might not expect but who can give you so much peace and courage. I hope you walk all days of your life with courage and faith and you always find that person that helps you re-put everything into perspective.

P.S. Dear Elizabeth, thank you! I am blessed to have had you that day. :)