I first encountered Denial a decade ago, and honestly, I had no clue how influential she would be. Denial was the confidante I leaned on during challenging times, the one I turned to when I needed a comforting presence. She settled into my life with ease, taking over my kitchen table and making herself at home in my thoughts — without even bringing a bottle of wine, can you believe that?
Denial held my hand through the rocky memories I preferred to forget, suggesting I let go of those moments. A formidable companion, she often blinded me to the realities of my son’s autism diagnosis, both before and after I received it. Denial is that friend who overstays her welcome, overshares, and frankly, is not the most positive influence. It’s a bit like that bad boyfriend your mom warned you about; you ignored her advice, and eventually, you had to learn your lesson on your own.
Denial often popped in right after Fear had left, creating a cycle that was hard to break. They both served their purpose in my life for a time, but I realized it was time to move on. I could wallow in guilt over my poor choices or choose to embrace the lessons learned from that time. I prefer laughter as the remedy — a good laugh paired with a nice glass of red wine shared with friends.
Here are 12 ways Denial lingered longer than she should have after my son Oliver’s autism diagnosis:
- When Oliver’s sensory sensitivities flared, Denial convinced me that his wild antics during my hair-drying sessions were due to him feeling ignored, not from the noise itself. Totally logical, right?
- Denial assured me that Oliver’s lack of eye contact was simply because he found his surroundings way more interesting than his annoying mom, who constantly urged him to “look at me!”
- Whenever I expressed sadness over Oliver not having friends, Denial swept in with the comforting thought that he simply hadn’t found anyone worth his time. Much easier to digest.
- When Oliver spun in circles under the kitchen light, Denial told me he was just checking out the light fixture for repairs. Forget that he was self-regulating!
- The tears and tantrums at the hair salon? Denial said it was because Oliver wanted long hair, not because he might have sensory sensitivities. Well, maybe she had a point there.
- Each time we approached his Music for Kids class and Oliver protested, Denial reassured me it was his musical genius rejecting “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star,” not the overwhelming noise of the instruments.
- When Oliver shied away from hugs, Denial made me believe it was simply because no one hugs better than me. Seriously, I’m an excellent hugger!
- Any time we attempted something new and Oliver freaked out, Denial insisted it was all about sticking to the tried and true. If it worked before, why change it?
- New clothes and shoes? Denial claimed Oliver knew how much I loved shopping and wanted to encourage me to treat myself. What a thoughtful kid!
- The reason Oliver stuck to the same meals every day wasn’t autism, according to Denial; it was simply to ensure I never got it wrong in the kitchen. Phew, that was a relief!
- Whenever I stressed over Oliver’s repetition of movie lines, Denial told me he was just mesmerized by the excitement of Thomas the Tank Engine’s adventures. Who wouldn’t be?
- Finally, Denial’s favorite phrase: “He’s fine.” She told me that because I wanted to believe it. But “fine” didn’t get Oliver the help he truly needed, and accepting that was the hardest lesson Denial never taught me.
Letting Denial go was tough, and I occasionally allow her to sneak back in, just like that ex who’s hard to shake. But I eventually discovered Acceptance, a much more supportive companion, who helped me see what Denial had obscured. She didn’t linger long, as I was ready to face the challenges ahead and find the support Oliver required.
Denial played a significant role in my journey. Friends come and go, and while Denial may have misled me, she also helped shape who I am today. If you find yourself in Denial’s company, remember she serves a purpose, but don’t let her hang around too long. Your child’s future depends on your ability to navigate this journey without her guidance.
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In summary, while Denial may have been a familiar face, it was Acceptance that ultimately guided me to a better understanding of my son’s needs. Embrace the lessons learned, and remember that you have the strength to navigate this journey without her.