Ten years ago, I met a companion named Denial. Initially, I didn’t realize the profound effect she would have on my life. Denial became the friend I leaned on during challenging days, the one who seemed to always be there when I needed support—even on days when I didn’t realize I needed it. She settled in at my kitchen table, lounged in my spare room, and took up residence in my mind, never even bringing a bottle of wine to share.
Denial allowed me to ignore painful memories from my past, suggesting I shouldn’t dwell on those moments. For many parents who receive whispers of “The A Word” during a consultation, Denial can feel like a familiar presence. She lingers longer than she should, chatting excessively and often leading you astray. Much like that untrustworthy boyfriend your mom warned you about, you likely ignored the cautionary advice regarding Denial, only to eventually learn her true nature on your own—without any matching tattoos.
Denial often arrives right after Fear has taken its leave. Just when you think you have a moment of solitude, you find Denial has come knocking. Fear and Denial are those acquaintances you might not want to hang out with anymore, but you recognize they came into your life for a reason. Instead of chastising yourself for choosing such friends (just like that old flame), remember that you selected each other, and that’s perfectly acceptable. What matters is that you’ve moved on, and thanks to them, your heart and mind are now open.
I could dwell on how long I ran with the wrong crowd or choose to reflect on the growth I’ve experienced since then. Like many situations in life, I prefer to find humor in it—after all, laughter is therapeutic, much like a good bottle of red wine shared with a true friend.
Here are 12 ways I realized Denial stuck around too long after my child’s autism diagnosis:
- When my son, Lucas, was overwhelmed by sensory stimuli, Denial convinced me that his wild antics during my hair-drying sessions were merely because he felt ignored, not because of the noise.
- Denial assured me that Lucas’s lack of eye contact wasn’t related to autism but rather that he found the world around him far more interesting than his nagging mom, who constantly urged him to “Look at me!”
- When I lamented Lucas’s absence of friends, Denial comforted me by suggesting he simply hadn’t found friends worthy of his time, which felt much easier to accept.
- Denial led me to believe that Lucas’s spinning under the kitchen light was a quest to inspect the fixture’s screws rather than a method to self-regulate.
- Every time Lucas had a meltdown at the barber’s, Denial claimed it was because he preferred long hair and felt betrayed by my insistence on a haircut. Maybe she had a point there.
- Denial insisted Lucas’s protests about attending music class stemmed from his musical prowess, suggesting he felt the children should be singing more sophisticated songs rather than “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.”
- Whenever Lucas recoiled from hugs, Denial told me it was simply because nobody hugged as well as I did—after all, I’m a fantastic hugger!
- Each time we introduced something new and Lucas reacted negatively, Denial reassured me that he was merely a creature of habit; if it worked before, why change?
- Denial also claimed that Lucas’s aversion to new clothes was out of consideration for my shopping preferences, wanting to ensure I spent money on myself. What a sweet thought, right?
- His repetitive eating habits weren’t because of autism, Denial said, but rather to make sure I never guessed wrong about what to prepare for him—because he preferred consistency.
- Denial would shout at me to relax whenever I fixated on Lucas’s use of movie scripts, suggesting that perhaps he found the adventures of his favorite characters far more exciting than his own reality.
- Lastly, Denial assured me Lucas was simply “fine,” but that was merely what I wanted to hear. Believing he was “fine” didn’t provide him with the necessary support he truly needed.
Letting Denial go was challenging, and occasionally I still allow her to drop by, but ultimately, I knew I had to make space for Acceptance, the friend I truly needed. Acceptance arrived and illuminated everything Denial had obscured, helping me see that I could find the support Lucas required to thrive.
Denial played a significant role in my journey. Just as friends enter and exit our lives, they leave an imprint that shapes who we become. While Denial may have led me astray for longer than I wished, I recognize that my experiences with her have contributed to my growth and, consequently, to Lucas’s progress.
If you find yourself in a similar situation with Denial, remember she may serve a purpose, but don’t let her linger too long. Your child’s future relies on your ability to navigate this journey without her whispering in your ear. So when she drops by, make sure she brings the wine and sends her on her way swiftly. You’ve got this without her, I assure you.
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In summary, navigating the waters of denial can be challenging, but embracing acceptance opens the door to a brighter future for both you and your child.