Who Am I?

The puzzle piece is often used as a symbol for autism, due to the complex and sometimes baffling nature of the disorder.

Sometimes, however, I'm the one who feels like the puzzle.

Back when I was in high school and even before, I was one of those who couldn't fit into a group or be classified. I wasn't popular but I wasn't an official nerd. I was smart but not really smart. I wasn't known for my talent at any one thing, but had my hands in band... chorus...writing. I had no enemies but not many friends. I was essentially an unknown. At the end of my senior year, a guidance counselor actually said to me, "You are ranked 22nd in the class -- why have I never heard of you?"

I went to college but commuted, so I had one foot at school, the other in my old world of work and home. After getting married, I worked full time, then part time, then from home. I've never been officially a stay-at-home mom, but I'm for the most part disconnected from the working world as well. I loved singing at church but then stopped when Ethan was born. After Ethan's diagnosis I did much of the "autism stuff" and still do, but I just don't feel like the Autism Supermom -- the one who organizes a team of 100 for the Autism Speaks Walk and attends every autism support group, fundraiser, conference. Through the years I've often wondered: Where do I fit? How should I best be using my talents and my time?

I've had trouble getting to know special needs parents. I've had trouble getting to know most people, really, and sometimes I think it's because I have my feet in so many worlds. Then other times I think, maybe it's me.

Maybe I haven't invested the time.
Maybe it's because I'm afraid.
Maybe it's because I don't know how.

Several years ago, for the first time in my life, I was finally beginning to get comfortable with me. Around the same time I met a great group of friends. We'd get together often and watch our kids play, and talk and talk and talk. I felt so blessed. I still feel blessed, because most of these people are still in my life and are totally awesome people.

But after Ethan was born and all of my fears started, I found myself drifting away. First -- the anxiety and stress, watching him with kids his age but not acting quite like kids his age. Then, finally, the diagnosis and my life turned upside down by therapy appointments. For a year, there wasn't much time for friends, not with trips to speech and occupational therapy each week along with four other weekly home visits by early intervention.

Thank God my friends did not abandon me. They have never abandoned me. But for awhile I was in full-on survival mode. That meant keeping to myself and just trying to get through rather than dealing with the stress of coping with Ethan on social occasions. That has changed and improved. Ethan can get by now. He may not be seeking out friendships (yet!), but things are better than they used to be. In the meantime, though, some of my friends moved on and formed close friendships complemented by children who are the same ages and who love playing together. I see them and they talk about things they all do together and sometimes I tread down the very dangerous path that wonders, "Would I be doing more of those same things with them, if Ethan did not have autism?"

Would I feel less alone?
Have I pushed people away?
In my desire to protect myself or to save us from stress, have I missed out on something very valuable?

Most days I am relatively content with who I am. I love knowing different types of people and being involved with lots of different things. But other times I feel as if I have strayed without meaning to. I find myself echoing the words of a Michael W. Smith song I used to love a very long time ago, "A Place in this World":

The wind is moving
But I am standing still
A life of pages
Waiting to be filled

A heart that's hopeful
A head that's full of dreams
But this becoming
Is harder than it seems

Feels like I'm
Looking for a reason
Roaming through the night to find
My place in this world
My place in this world
Not a lot to lean on
I need your light to help me find
My place in this world
My place in this world

If there are millions
Down on their knees
Among the many
Can you still hear me

Hear me asking
Where do I belong?
Is there a vision
That I can call my own?

Feels like I'm
Looking for a reason
Roaming through the night to find
My place in this world
My place in this world
Not a lot to lean on
I need your light to help me find
My place in this world
My place in this world