Perhaps it’s because I grew up as one of six kids, and almost always surrounded by people, but I’ve always been okay being alone. It brings me comfort and a sense of regulation.
Although, life’s trials have taught me that being alone isn’t synonymous with loneliness; it isn’t isolation.
Isolation comes when no one around you understands you. When there is no one you can rely on.
Lately, I’ve been trying to pinpoint my biggest fears for my autistic son, and the list feels endless. I fear he might never grasp the essence of true friendship, or experience the joy of falling in love with someone who loves him back. And at the worst of time that people will be cruel to him in place of those things.
The uncertainty about his future weighs on my mind, especially looking forward to when I’m no longer there.
The fear of him being lonely and forgotten looms over me.
In many ways, I see my son sharing my appreciation for moments of solitude. He loves his space.
Yet, the risk of being overlooked comes with those tendencies. Autism can make it hard for him to toe that line, to reach out when the need comes for companionship.
Despite his occasional contentment in watching others move forward without him, I know it sometimes shatters his heart.
I know, because I’m there, always watching for the signs, making everyone wait or rewind for him to catch up.
But what happens when I’m gone? Who will be there for him then?
The thought of him being left alone, not just physically but also in the mental grip of loneliness, terrifies me.
Maybe it’s ego to think I’m the key to preventing his isolation, but It’s one of my greatest fears, and these thoughts of his future breaks my heart as a mother.
I hope and pray that his path is not made up of solitude and isolation. I want him to be happy and to be loved. Forever.
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