Another wonderful part. Things are appearing more hopeful for all involved.
and he wishes, just once, there would be people wanting him instead of needing him
That line just bowled me over. There have been times in my life that I could really relate to that. When my son's autism was most severe, he did nothing to acknowledge my (or anyone elses's) existence. (No eye contact or even looking in my direction. If I rubbed his back, his muscles wouldn't even get tenser or looser. If I clapped my hands an inch in front of his nose, he wouldn't even blink. He was a total zombie. Fortunately, he is *much* more interactive now.) My entire life was spent either at work or taking care of my son. I was very needed but didn't seem at all wanted. I was my roles (Dr. M. and Mom) and had zero time to be simply Lynn. I never could have put my feelings as succinctly as you did Clark's, but you hit it right on the head. (Incidentally, joining this list was my turning point. I had finally been able to carve out a little time to do something just as myself, not as a role I was in. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy being both Mom and Dr. M., but I did need to be simply Lynn sometimes.)
I agree with James. And I'm delighted to see that Clark is giving it some serious contemplation; I hope he not only takes it to heart, but also acts on it. The cookies with friends is a good start.
Eagerly awaiting the next part.
Joy,
Lynn
Last edited by Lynn S. M.; 08/18/15 06:52 AM. Reason: elaborated on my response to the first quote
