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As Moms, Do We Care for Ourselves?

As Moms, Do We Care for Ourselves?

Last updated on: April 23, 2017 at 7:38 pm by Dilshad Ali

As Moms, Do We Care for Ourselves? 2017-04-23T19:38:30-04:00 Dilshad Ali

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This is Day 23 of the Ali Family #AutismTruths – April 23, 2017

Dear Moms, Particularly Muslim Moms of Color,

Last night I took the boys and went to the home of a friend, who has two sons on opposite ends of the autism spectrum. D has been in classes with both over the years. Another mom who has two sons (out of four) on the spectrum also joined us. We had come together, along with my friend’s family, for a confirmation celebration.

Probably the best part of being at her home was that everything was ok. Whatever rooms that D shouldn’t go into were locked. Whatever was open was fine. If he opened a drawer and took out a spatula, it was ok. If bounded enthusiastically across the room, no one batted an eye.

I didn’t completely let go – I did keep an eye on him and H to make sure they were relatively behaving themselves and taken care of. But, there was a level of comfort there that is often missing at other friend’s homes – not because my other non-autism friends aren’t easy going or welcoming. Many are.

It’s just different.

It’ll always be different.

We chatted about things last night that only we will truly ever understand, no matter how much I write these posts or strive to share our autism lives with you all. At the end of the day, those who know, know. And, they know because they are living it, too.

Today we went to D’s regular Sunday afternoon activity – the John Maloney Project (formerly known as Open Gym). I’ve written about D’s adventures at Open Gym in several posts, and the fact is that going there on Sunday afternoons is probably as much for me as it is for D.

Sometimes I choose to chat with fellow parents about topics autism and non-autism. Sometimes we commiserate about school challenges, troubles retaining care givers, relationships woes or heartbreaking bouts of aggression, self-injury, meltdowns and crying jags. Sometimes we talk about our other kids, how they are testing our patience or making us proud with how they are turning out to be genuine good humans.

Sometimes I choose to plug earphones in, turn on my favorite Pandora 90s alternative/grunge rock station and just walk the track. Not thinking about particularly anything but watching the kids go about their exercise, keeping a peripheral eye on D, and enjoying the music.

We all need something for ourselves. Frankly, I don’t do enough for myself. It’s not for the lack of my husband saying – what do you want to do? Go do it, and I’ll support you. It’s often because I am on a relentless path of work, parenting, autism, responsibilities, and I rarely make time to put my hands out and say – stop. I am stepping off this path and momentarily shutting down. I am my own worst detractor.

I often guilt myself out of doing something for myself by thinking — ok, I can take a break. I can walk away. But how can D walk away from his challenges? How can he take a “break?”

I don’t mean to write this to offer you buzzy self-care tips or pithy words about how we must take time to pamper ourselves. Because, when I read stuff like that, my first thought is – how? How am I supposed to do that? Where do I find the time? What do I let go to squeeze some time in for myself? I am so damn tired. I don’t know how to “self-care.”

So yeah – I don’t know how. I only know that when folks say you’ll feel the effects in your body if you continuously run at 100 mph without slowing down from time to time or doing something – anything – for yourself – it’s 100 percent true. This year has been a year of medical and mental checkups for me. Because I’m feeling the effects of nearly 17 years of motherhood, wifehood, job-hood, life-hood.

And, I worry about my fellow Muslim moms, moms of color, Desi moms, Black moms – all of you. I feel like we are even more so not programmed to think about ourselves. The generation above me taught me to sacrifice for family – do for them. Take care of them. Yes, I was told to look after myself, too. But not how to facilitate that.

Sometimes I find that seeking time and hanging out with autism moms is where my comfort level lies. They really get aspects of my life in a way my own husband doesn’t at times. And he gets me the best. Sometimes it’s with Desi/Muslim moms, with whom I have other things in common. Sometimes it’s in being alone, walking fast with headphones on, under the covers in bed watching some silly sitcom, reading late into the night, hugging our fat cat Bluebell or just drinking a cup of good chai in silence.

Whatever it is, I don’t do enough of it. I’m really feeling that right now.

And, I suspect it may be the same to some extent for many, many of you. Please think on that.

Yours,

Dilshad

Autism Awareness Month 2017

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