Through the Fire

My mom is anything but average; she's a lover of psychology with a deeply held desire to be a part of the medical world, she's strong and independent to a fault, she's an autism parent who has seen it all. Most importantly, she showed me what it means to truly be selfless in love.

When I was a child, my mother was in a car accident. A spot of light in the world who ran herself too thin and didn't see the truck flying towards her in the intersection. The traditional woman of the household, who had been strong enough to consider leaving her five year long marriage with three hard-to-handle children; instantly left helpless at the fate of her life. Learning to read and write alongside her 2,3, and 7 year old. My mother didn't bat an eye, facing every moment with gratitude and grace.

My oldest brother has autism, fiery red hair and enough fury to give Dr.Phil a run for his money. My mom had her work cut out for her. From school bullies to her own health, nothing was easy. And yet, my mother never spoke anything but sweetly and softly. She carefully told us what and where danger was, showering us with information about reality. Never losing a grip on hiding her personal battles.

-You may be wondering what being an autism parent really means. It means that from the day my brother was born, he had sensory issues. Causing my mother to feel the rejection of her first born child and the shame of an undereducated system that explained it as a lack of nurturing from mom. As he grew, he developed intelligence beyond imagination that was quickly shot down by people who believed he was under developed because he couldn't read or write. He was unable to make friends because social reality never kicked in and when he was bullied, his only defense was taught to him by the school system itself; using our physical ability against one another in the form of pinning each other down in an attempt to subdue unruly autistic children. Leaving him to be called aggressive while my mother was getting back into the work force-

Through the flames, my mother grew exponentially. Learning how to calm down my brothers tormented soul and maintain the emotional safety of everyone around him. She learned, from the ground up, what it meant to be autistic. She learned and taught us how to speak clearly and confidently, how to exit a situation that wasn't safe, and how to identify an unsafe situation.

As my great-grandmother grew ill; My mother, in all her might, agreed to move her in. As Grandma's hearing got worse, she would moan and groan about her pain without noticing. It irritated family and friends who agreed to help look after her, one-by-one people stopped giving our family a break on the weekends. Mom would float around the kitchen, preparing meals and aiding in bedtime routines. All while struggling through her own life.

My mother developed an auto-immune disorder, shortly before divorcing my father. This causes swelling in all areas of her body, arthritis in all of her joints and the incredible ability to sense when it's going to rain. Watching her go through this, all while trying to leave my ever-manipulative father, I developed a level of compassion that I had never imagined. I watched my sweet, sensible mother begin to drink, to lose herself to her pain. I watched her give up and find her fire all at the same time..

Words will never describe the experience of my parents separation. I've never seen my mother so prepared. Her health got better for a few years after the divorce, the relaxation of having adult children and comfort of being alone looked good on her.

When I tell you that she taught me love, I'm really telling you that she taught me safety and kindness. When I tell you that she taught me love, I'm really telling you that she taught me how to grow because you love someone so much that staying still wouldn't do that love justice.