“Hey, you should write a book about your journey with your son.”
“You write really well. Have you ever thought of getting published?”
“How is your book coming along?”
I might have mentioned wanting to write about this journey. True, I’ve always dreamt of seeing all my writings come to life in print. And yes, wanting to become a writer was one of my career goals. But I think I’m done with the pressure.
Maybe I just want to be a good parent to my autistic son before trying to document my journey, telling others what worked and what didn’t, how we survived this together, and how we happily created a special mother-son bond through all the trials, heartaches and tears. Maybe I just want to write and blog to relieve the pain. Writing was art and therapy before it started being marketed as a documentation of life experiences and lessons learned. At least that’s how I like it to be. At least that’s why I started writing when I was a teenager. Long before I had my own blog or a social media account, I had notebooks filled with bleedings of my soul. The poems did document the feelings I’d gone through as I dealt with personal and family issues. These notebooks never had any audience and I was completely content just emptying out my emotions on paper without receiving feedback or admiration. These notebooks ended up in the trash, I had to dispose of years of agony due to lack of storage space. It hurt to say goodbye but I had no regrets. They’d served their therapeutic purpose.
That is not to say that I don’t appreciate receiving readership and encouraging comments on my writings. What use would having a blog be then? Sharing my experiences gives me pleasure, but learning as I go is even more enjoyable. At present, I’m hardly ready to celebrate achievements and milestones. How I can preach what I haven’t practiced or teach lessons I haven’t learned? I’ve got such a long way to go and I’m still low on fuel.
Right now I’m simply trying to stay focused while I balance my own passions and my son’s needs. I’m simply trying to hold on as I get bombarded with school complaints and inner urges to give up. Wanting to become a writer involves some degree of self-doubt, but I believe it’s just the stress talking at times. I’m sure that the strength and determination within will eventually propel my ship of dreams to its desired destination. It’s mainly my desire to master the parenting trade that’s pushing me to hold off the publishing.
I would doubtlessly be happy to invest the time and effort one day to save some parent the trouble of searching for the right therapy or support system. My goal to inspire and educate is already being met in every post I leave here.
So right now I just want to write to write. To unravel all the mysteries found on that broad spectrum. To untangle all the thoughts in my mind. To find my happiness and help my son find his. And, if I’m lucky, to spread that happiness like confetti in every parent’s home.