April 11, 2016
It was a challenging afternoon. My son hopped off the school bus, and I could instantly sense that something was off. Normally, I pride myself on being the calm in his storms, the one who knows how to soothe his troubled waters. I envisioned myself as a peaceful, Zen-like mom—well, sort of. As a mom of a child with autism, I’ve learned that maintaining my composure is essential.
My son often grapples with intense emotions and aggressive behavior, and all the specialists we’ve consulted have emphasized the importance of staying calm and not reacting to provocation. On this particular day, I couldn’t pinpoint how the tension escalated. He was resistant to my gentle suggestions, and when I offered his afternoon snack, which typically consisted of fruit before cookies, he dug in his heels. It was the same routine we followed daily, but I knew he was looking for an outlet for his frustration.
And then it happened. In a whirlwind of emotions, he launched himself at me, arms flailing, and slapped me across the face. Not stopping there, he started ripping pages from the book I had been reading. When he reached for the library books nearby, something inside me snapped.
I vividly remember fleeing from him, clutching the books to protect them, while he pursued me, hands raised in anger. He missed me twice, but on the third attempt, he struck me hard on the back. In that moment, rage consumed me. How could he act like this? I was the parent! I shouted at him to stay away, threatening to throw the book if he didn’t back off. Instead of retreating, he burst into laughter, and that’s when I lost all sense of control.
Without thinking, I lifted one of the softcover books I was holding and hurled it at him. It hit his arm, and the astonishment on his face mirrored my own. “Mommy, you threw the book at me!” he exclaimed, a mix of shock and fear in his eyes. I was trembling, not only from what I had done but also from the realization that I wanted to do it again. Anger swelled inside me, directed at both him and myself for losing my composure. Tears streamed down my face as I grabbed the book and told him, “I’m really sorry, but I’m also very upset. I need to go calm down in my quiet space.”
We had previously established calm corners for him during his meltdowns, and it was clear that I needed one too. I retreated to the only room with a lock—the family bathroom. There, I allowed myself to cry freely for about 15 minutes, releasing all the pent-up frustration. From that day on, I never lost my cool with him again.
Motherhood can reveal both your strengths and weaknesses. If you allow it, it can also help you grow. I’ve met many mothers of special needs children who have shared similar moments of frustration with me. One friend recounted how she retaliated when her son stomped on her foot, feeling a fleeting sense of satisfaction before succumbing to guilt. Another confided that she would yell until her child cried, only to feel awful afterward.
Let’s face it, we’re all human. We’ve all had those moments where we’ve lost control. But as long as we learn from these experiences and find effective anger management techniques, we can model calmness for our children—no matter their needs. That one difficult moment transformed me into someone who now approaches my challenges with honesty and compassion.
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Summary:
This article recounts a mother’s challenging experience with her son who has autism, highlighting the emotional struggles and moments of frustration that can occur in parenting. It emphasizes the importance of finding effective ways to manage anger and stresses that all parents, regardless of their child’s needs, can have moments of losing control. Ultimately, these experiences can lead to personal growth and improved emotional resilience.