wor·ry [wur-ee, wuhr-ee]
to torment oneself with or suffer from disturbing thoughts; fret.
Worry is a useless emotion.
Why should I torment myself and suffer about what may or may not be? Why should I assume the worst possible outcome, when I can find comfort in a joyful scenario?
I have taken a whiff of the statistics about independent living and employment prospects for autistic adults, but the statistics are meaningless to me. Only 1% of children have an autism diagnosis. We won that lottery, and we can win again. In fact, we win every day. I love my life and am grateful for exactly the children I have. Thanks to autistic self-advocates and allies, the world is changing. Allistic people are working with autistic people and people of various neurologies interact in many places. People are starting to understand that we are all interdependent. We are all valuable.
. . . trying to “fix” today’s world by repairing the system is somewhat of a waste of time. Simply, because the current institutions (politics, economy, education, and healthcare among others) and their mission are the cause of our pending extinction. . . Our evolution is dependent upon the collapse of our current society with the opportunity of rebuilding a new world based on a sustainable foundation that is in harmony with the planet.
— Bruce Lipton in his August 2010 Newsletter
Anything is Possible
For the past 13 or so years, my children have been actively showing me that things are not what they appear. I wasn’t very quick in paying attention, but eventually, I could ignore them no longer. I began to actively change my beliefs. Even as I establish new ways of seeing and being, I am open to ongoing change.
Where There is Movement, There is Life
If you have ever seen a still pond or a little segment of a stream where the water does not move, you have noticed how life there begins to decay. Even decay is movement and change, and necessary at times. But, if I can choose (and I always choose my own adventure), I choose joyful, active movement.
I choose to be a rushing stream or a shimmering lake, not water covered with green and brown scum.
The world is changing very quickly. Maybe, by the time my children are grown, they will not need language to communicate. Maybe, my own reliance on spoken and written words will hold me back in the next phase of evolution. Or maybe not. I don’t know. I am open to a brilliant future for my children and for myself. Even if I cannot imagine what it will be and how it will come about.
What If I’m Completely Wrong?
What if a good command of language remains necessary? What if flicking and stimming are not accepted or forever viewed as weird? What if Daniel grows up and cannot make life in the world work for him on his own? Then, I will figure out what we need to do. I will cross that bridge if I come to it.
For now, I support him and guide him to prepare for life as we know it, knowing that great changes are afoot. Worrying and torment do not help him or me.
I will continue to build castles in the sky, and to put foundations under them.