The Zen Mom: Letting Go of Attachment

Once, when Singularity was about 4 years old, we had to go somewhere, and I was having a hard time getting him to cooperate with getting ready. I didn't know what the hang-up was. He just wasn't ready, you know? 

So I sat down next to him to wait it out, whatever it was. I realized at that moment that what we were doing was slowing down to speed up. I could have rushed him, but I don't think that it would have led to a good outcome. He might have had a tantrum, and I just didn't want to see him upset. This is what our ABA team calls "antecedent management". 

There are so few things in which being on time matters (perhaps catching the last ferry of the day to get off the island or the airplane that will take you home) or even things that you must attend (your own wedding). In the end, I am sure that whatever time Singularity needed to become ready to go was less than the time it would have taken for him to have the tantrum and for me to help him put himself together again. Simply waiting with compassion and patience was less damaging to him and to myself as well. Rushing just causes anxiety, so why hurry?

As I began writing this, another memory gathered in my mind. I think Singularity was in first or second grade, and we were walking home from school. We were just down the street from the school when Singularity stopped. And lay down. Under a tree in someone's yard. I could have been annoyed, but instead I just lay down next to him. He said that he saw the number five in the tree branches, so I tried to see it too. 

While Singularity and I lay there, the woman who lived in the house saw us lying there, and we talked about how sometimes we just have to take time out to follow our children's lead. Little did I know that a year or two later I would meet her in a support group for autism parents! 

I have always referred to moments like these as "Zen mom" moments. Times of letting go of whatever ideas I may have had for how the day would go and just following our singular path wherever it leads. 

It certainly hasn't always been easy to get into this frame of mind. For instance, I was totally gobsmacked when we received Singularity's first diagnosis of PDD-NOS in 2008, even though we were aware of his autistic qualities. I was just attached to my ideas of what his life would be like and of what my life would be like with him. I think that I cried for about three months, but slowly I got used to the idea that his developmental trajectory would be idiosyncratic and that our life would be different than I had expected. 

Now, although it is sometimes vexing (during those moments when I haven't let go of my attachment to the way I think things should happen), Singularity's autism is something that I embrace. Indeed, one of the reasons I began this blog was to celebrate the amazing person Singularity is. 

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Postscript: In an amazing coincidence, searched for images of "looking up into a tree," the image to which I was most attracted, which you see above, was accompanied by a quote from Momma Zen by Karen Maezen Miller.