by Gladys Diaz

Last week, my husband and I had a conversation we’d been avoiding for years.  It was something we knew we had to do.  We’d talked about having the conversation, mentioned it to others, and, still, months and years went by without us having it.  Why?

We were afraid of what it would mean – for us and for our family.

The conversation I’m referring to wasn’t a conversation we needed to have with one another.  It was the conversation to let our older son know that he has Asperger’s Syndrome – a mild form of Autism.

We found out that our son had Autism during the summer before he begin first grade.  The truth, however, is that I’d had my suspicions since the time that he was about 2 years old.  There were signs that he wasn’t connecting with others, he had obsessive patterns of behavior, and changes in his schedule were very difficult for him to handle.

I even had a “secret” folder on my computer where I had been gathering research about Asperger’s Syndrome.  No one knew about my suspicions, except me.  For years, I carried this feeling with me, but was too afraid of what it might mean if my suspicions were confirmed.

The decision to not tell my son about his diagnosis was one that my husband and I made together.  We went back and forth about the pros and cons of letting him know, considered what it would mean to him, how he might react.  We were afraid of saying something that might set him off, make him feel like there was something “wrong” with him, or that he might use his diagnosis as an excuse, rather than the reason for trying harder.  At the same time, we wondered if not telling him would cause just as many issues for him, with him never knowing why he felt and was sometimes treated as if he were “different.”

I can’t tell you how many times I envisioned us having this conversation with him. In each scenario, I would hear my son asking a million questions (something he does anyway), questioning who he is, why there was something “wrong” with him, how it could be cured (there is no cure for autism), and why this had to happen to him.  I pictured him crying, storming out of the room, or throwing a tantrum.

The fear of what I imagined his reaction would be is one of the things that kept me delaying having the conversation.  I couldn’t imagine having to have to comfort my son, answer questions I didn’t have the answers to, and explain something that, quite honestly, I understand very little about myself.

We finally decided to stop avoiding having the conversation. He’s about to go to middle school, and we want him to be able to speak up for himself if he needs help.  We planned what we would tell him and decided to keep it as simple as possible, allowing him to ask questions if he wanted more information.

Last week, we sent our little one upstairs and let him know we needed to talk with him.  I was sweating, cold, and trying not to cry, all at the same time.  I looked at my husband.  We gave each other the look that said, “We’re in this together,” and we told him in the most simple and matter-of-fact way about his diagnosis, what it meant, what it didn’t  mean, and why it was important that he know about it now that he’s getting older.

He asked us some questions like, “Is this why I feel left out a lot of the time?” (that was a hard one to hear), “Is this why I’m really good at math?” (an easier one to hear), “Is this why I have trouble with my short-term memory?”

Then he asked me if I had Asperger’s, too.  I told him I didn’t but that dad had learned that he might have it, and that seemed to make him feel better.  Then, out of nowhere, he asked if Albert Einstein had Asperger’s.  I smiled and said that, a matter of fact, doctors now believe that he did (this made him feel a lot better).

When we asked him how he felt about knowing that he had Asperger’s Syndrome, he said, something I had never imagined in any of my worst-case-scenarios.

He said smiled and said, “It feels good knowing that there is something unique about me!”

In that moment, all of my imagined fears fell away. All of the doubts I’d had about whether or not telling him was a good idea, disappeared.  And I had to smile to hide back the tears.

I spent years ignoring the fact that I suspected my son had Asperger’s because I was afraid of what others would say and how they’d treat him.  I was afraid of what it might mean for him and his life.  But avoiding the issue didn’t make the Asperger’s go away.

I spent years avoiding telling my son about his diagnosis because I was afraid of how he might react, that it might be “devastating” for him, and that I wouldn’t know how to help him through understanding and dealing with it.  But, eventually, we had to have the conversation, anyway.

I spent years carrying all of that unnecessary fear, emotional stress, and useless worrying.

And, in the end, he just felt special!

So, how does this relate to you and your relationship?

Is there something in your relationship that you’re not dealing with?

Are there signs that the intimacy in your relationship is fading?

Are you arguing more than you need to?

Are you not connecting the way that you used to?

Are you pretending that the problems aren’t there?

Is there a conversation you’ve been avoiding having?

Are you afraid of what he might say or not say?

Are you imagining a worst-case scenario in your head that is keeping you from having a discussion that might actually help turn things around?

Pretending that the problems are not there doesn’t mean the problems aren’t there, nor is it helping to solve them.

Avoiding having the conversation because you are afraid of how he might react or what might happen as a result isn’t solving anything either.  It’s just delaying the inevitable, and could actually be making things worse because of your unwillingness to deal with reality.

I know it’s going to take courage to see what you may have been unwilling to see and to say what you’ve been afraid to say.

Consider that what you are imagining may be ten times worse than what actually ends up happening.

And consider that having the courage to confront reality and deal with what there is to deal with now may save you years of dealing with unnecessary worry, fear, and heartache.

If you need support with having a difficult conversation, contact us.

We can help you gather your thoughts and communicate them in a way that will help you say what needs to be said and empower you to begin turning things around in your relationship.

You don’t have to avoid things or pretend any longer, and you don’t have to face it alone!

Questions? Comments?  Let us know below, we love hearing from you!

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