Hello, my name is Shawn Blymiller, and I am the father of Theo, an 11-year-old boy with profound autism.
For the last few weeks, I have felt so much pain in my body and my joints. Granted, I am 42 years old and not as nimble as I once was. Not to mention the lack of sleep I have been getting because Theo has been up way too much. We keep praying for a consistent sleep schedule, but some nights we only get 3–4 hours of sleep.
Recently, walking up and down stairs, my joints have started to hurt so badly. I try to exercise regularly, and I play in an over-30 men's soccer league, but lately with every step my hips, knees, and lower back feel like there are rocks grinding against my fascia. I have considered retiring from the over-30 league, and I might still do just that.
However, a few nights ago, lying in bed and scrolling through X, I read this quote, and it hit a nerve:
"I sat with my anger long enough until she told me her real name was grief."
— Commonly attributed to C.S. Lewis
I felt it unleash something, and I cried. For the last few months I have been easily triggered to anger — reacting with mean comments and defensive stances. Angry at my wife, my daughter, my son, and the world.
"Theo had a good day"
Over the last few weeks, my 11-year-old son, who weighs 80 pounds, has started self-injurious behavior. I got him off the school bus on a Friday afternoon, and he had two massive goose eggs on his forehead. It looked like he had horns. My stomach dropped, and I felt sick. I went inside and read the note that was sent home with him. It said: "Theo had a good day."
I was confused, angry, scared, and sad all at once.
I called the school, and when I finally talked to the teacher, she told me that he had head-butted the corner of a brick wall… numerous times. I felt a system overload, like I didn't know how to react. My body froze. There was a desire to yell and scream, but there was also a desire to crumble and cry. All I could do was ask what led to this behavior. What were the antecedents that led my son to head-butt a wall?
The teacher told me that he had refused to eat that day, and that he had gotten hold of a bottle of bubbles and drank it. Yes, bubbles. He also didn't want to come in from recess, so in a bout of revolt, he self-harmed.
I am still trying to understand all of this. I have now read too many stories about how common this is for our kids. Theo is still smaller than me, but his mom and sister are not as big as I am.
The weight of being Dad
Part of the crying was expressing and feeling the weight I carry as his father. When Theo has anger and aggression, Dad comes to handle it.
Recently, I was laid off from my software sales job. Maybe it was because I wasn't performing at the level I would have with a full night of sleep and no stress in my life. Maybe it was because of the two times I had to leave work early to manage Theo's aggression. Maybe my calling is in something else. All I know is that the weight of it all felt like too much.
The release had to happen. I cried so hard that I hyperventilated. I had a hard time controlling it. My wife was afraid I was going to wake and scare my daughter. But I had to let it go.
I have cried a few more times over the last few weeks when I think about this phrase: "How is this my life?"
And then, after I cry, I get up and I keep going. Because that is the only choice I have. And today my joints feel a little better.
— Shawn Blymiller