By: Linda Brooks
It was a decade ago when I first encountered Denial, a companion I unknowingly welcomed into my life. At the time, I didn’t realize just how profoundly she would affect my journey as a mother. Denial became my go-to confidante during challenging days, the one I leaned on when I needed comfort — often showing up uninvited and overstaying her welcome. She was the friend who lounged at my kitchen table, slept off her hangover in my spare room, and made herself at home in my thoughts without offering anything in return.
Denial allowed me to forget painful memories from my past, suggesting that I ought to steer clear of them. And I did. For many parents who have had “the A-word” softly uttered in front of them, Denial is a familiar figure. She’s the friend who lingers too long, overshares her opinions, and ultimately can lead you astray. Much like ignoring your mother’s warnings about a toxic relationship, I overlooked the red flags Denial presented. Eventually, I realized I had to figure things out by myself, without any matching tattoos or lasting commitments.
Denial often swoops in right after Fear exits. Just when you think you’re alone, she makes her presence known. While I no longer associate with Fear or Denial, I understand they were in my life for a reason, and rather than chastising myself for their influence, I choose to acknowledge the growth they spurred. Laughter has become my remedy, alongside a good bottle of red wine brought by genuine friends.
Here are 12 instances where Denial lingered too long after my son Ethan’s autism diagnosis:
- When Ethan’s sensory sensitivities made him react to the sound of the hair dryer, Denial convinced me it was simply because I was ignoring him, not because he was overwhelmed. This seemed logical at the time.
- Denial reassured me that Ethan’s aversion to eye contact was due to his fascination with the world around him, rather than an autism-related difficulty. After all, I was just a boring mom asking him to look at me.
- Whenever I lamented Ethan’s struggles with friendships, Denial told me it was because he hadn’t found anyone worthy of his time. This was a much easier narrative to accept.
- When Ethan spun around under the kitchen light, Denial insisted he was merely trying to figure out how to change the lightbulb, dismissing any ideas about self-regulation.
- The meltdowns at haircuts were due to Ethan wanting to keep his hair long—not a sensory issue, as Denial suggested. That was easier to digest, even if it wasn’t entirely true.
- Denial persisted in interpreting Ethan’s protests about attending music class as a sign of his musical talent, rather than an overload of sensory stimuli from the chaotic environment.
- When Ethan recoiled from others’ hugs, Denial assured me it was because no one hugged like I did. I took comfort in believing I was the best hugger.
- Every time we introduced something new and Ethan became upset, Denial told me it was just his preference for the familiar, not a deeper need for routine.
- Denial also spun a tale that Ethan’s resistance to new clothes was merely him wanting me to indulge my love for shopping, rather than acknowledging his sensory sensitivities.
- Ethan’s preference for the same meals day after day was framed by Denial as a way to make my life easier, rather than highlighting a potential autism-related issue.
- “Don’t worry!” Denial would exclaim when I fixated on Ethan’s scripting of movies and shows. She suggested he was just fascinated by the characters, not needing to explore his own identity.
- “He’s perfectly fine,” Denial would say, comforting me with the words I so desperately wanted to hear. However, this belief hindered me from securing the support Ethan truly needed.
Letting go of Denial was incredibly challenging, and I occasionally allowed her to return, much like a nostalgic ex. Even now, she makes the occasional appearance, but I’ve learned to prioritize Acceptance, the friend who truly supports me.
When Acceptance arrived, she revealed the truths that Denial had obscured. Unlike Denial, Acceptance didn’t overstay her welcome, helping me see that I could navigate this journey independently. Denial played a crucial role in my story, and while she may have led me astray, I recognize I wouldn’t be where I am today without her influence.
For those who are currently in Denial’s company, remember she is present for a reason, but don’t let her linger. Your child’s future hinges on your ability to move forward without her whispers. So when she visits, make her bring a bottle of wine and send her on her way quickly.
In the end, you have the strength to tackle this journey. You’ve got this!
Summary
The author reflects on her relationship with Denial following her son Ethan’s autism diagnosis, highlighting 12 ways in which she allowed Denial to misinterpret her son’s behaviors and needs. Ultimately, she emphasizes the importance of moving towards Acceptance for both her and her son’s well-being.