Autism, emotions, and overload

I took my kids to the park the other day. It was a bright and sunny, beautiful day.

One of our kiddos had to use the bathroom, so we tromped across the park. As kids will, my child waited until the absolute last minute for a bathroom break, so by the time they announced their need, they were pretty zealous for the bathroom. But halfway across the park, they stopped, bent halfway down and covered their ears. They managed to figure out the fetal position, only standing. I’m still half-running to the bathroom, hollering “Come on, buddy. The bathroom is right over here.”

I take a moment. I look at my child and I hear the problem. 

Near us there is a swing squeaking loudly. Maybe squeaking isn’t the right word. It’s more screeching throughout the entire ascent and descent on each pass. No one else notices it, but when I hear with my child’s eyes, I can spot little things I couldn’t on my own.  

     “That swing loud, huh, buddy.”

“It makes me feel loud inside, Mama.”

There was a swelling of pride inside of me. What a skill to say how the world on the outside makes you feel on the inside! 

What if I could identify what makes me feel loud inside? 

All kinds of things do make me feel loud inside every day. I occasionally turn me into a wild woman, searching for order and demanding perfection from noises, shapes, relationships, you name it. 

What if I paid attention to my inside life?

We all have stuff that irritates us, that gets under our skin a little bit, or a lot. Those things pile up and stack on top of one another and become internal. We feel anxiety in different places, welling up like foam overflowing a mug or maybe sitting like a weight on our chest. Either way it builds…one thing, than another. Sooner or later emotions will have their space if we don’t let them have a little attention on the inside.

But, if I can identify my inside chatter and connection it, offer it to a friend, better, to God, what might happen?  

           “I’m feeling loud inside, Lord.” 

We’ve got this, together. 

We may not even “solve” it, but it becomes a moment that is more than my overwhelm. You wouldn’t believe the difference that makes. Anxiety softens, grace becomes tangible, things become slowly manageable as I sit and know God is not far away. 

On the way back from the bathroom my child gave the squeaky swing his angry face and moved on with life. Connecting outside to inside and back again. All a little bit more well than it was without this moment.