I have ten more days of writing on this journey. 10 – I can’t even believe it!
Yes, I will continue writing…but I’m going to take a couple weeks off. Unless, of course something major happens – in which case you know you’ll hear from me.
It’s actually 11 days…but here’s the spoiler. Tucker is writing on the last day. We’ve been tossing around ideas for quite some time – and we started getting an outline of ideas together last night. It probably won’t be very long – but it will be his voice.
I’m pretty stoked about that.
As I enter this time of my writing I just wanted to take a moment and reflect.
Reflect upon how this blog has changed our lives, reflect on how far we really have come, reflect upon how much my own understanding of the spectrum has grown.
Reflect upon relationships created through this blog, reflect about the impact of this blog on my family and friends.
How truly blessed I am to have had this experience. I decided to write every day for a year because I have a tendency of acting without really thinking all the way through things (my parents are laughing and nodding their heads right now).
It’s true I didn’t think through this commitment before I hit ‘publish.’
It’s true and it’s a part of who I am. Does it get me into trouble? Surely – but I always try to think of what I learned from just jumping in. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes not – but is always interesting.
In this case it’s been good AND interesting.
I missed four days – vomiting, half-marathon, technology troubles, and vacation. Four out of 366 – that actually feels pretty good.
I will tell you it hasn’t always been easy. There were moments that I would stare at the computer screen, moments that I just wanted to go hang out with my friends, moments that my husband sat and waited for my attention. Moments that I ignored phone calls, moments that I ignored papers that needed to be graded, moments that my laundry went undone.
But here we are…355 days later and nothing major fell apart…and maybe that’s the lesson of it all. Life just keeps going. Every day I wake up. Every evening I go to sleep. It’s kind of like autism – life doesn’t stop for autism. Life doesn’t slow down for autism. Life just keeps on going…and it’s our job to try apply meaning.
Autism or not…life just keep going.
One of my favorite books is The Alchemist. It’s an odd little book about a shepard boy trying to find his destiny. I first read the book many years ago and found myself rereading it about a year ago in preparation for a leadership class I was teaching.
As usual, as I have aged and matured – the book made more sense than ever before. Obviously, I couldn’t have done all of this writing without Tucker’s approval. Tonight though? Tonight I need to thank someone else – my husband. I wrote about his amazingness on Day #145.
Throughout this process he has nursed 10 year old anxiety, wiped away eight year old tears, talked me through a stuck moments, helped me refine topics, developed titles, fed me, brought me soda, cared for children, and generally been a rock of support. He thinks I’m a phenomenal human being – I think his standards are too low. 😉
An excerpt from the Alchemist, “The desert was all sand in some stretches, and rocky in others. When the caravan was blocked by a boulder, it had to go around it; if there was a large rocky area, they had to make a major detour. If the sand was too fine for the animals’ hooves, they sought a way to make the sand more substantial. In some places, the ground was covered with the salt of dried-up lakes. The animal balked at such places, and the camel drivers were forced to dismount and unburden their charges. The drivers carried the freight themselves over such treacherous footing, and then reloaded the camels. If a guide were to fall ill or die, the camel drivers would redraw lots and appoint a new one. But all this happened for one basic reason: No matter how many detours and adjustments it made, the caravan moved toward the same compass point.”
Life really never goes as planned, does it? But we’re always pushing on – pushing on towards one compass point. I owe this partner of mine so much – but he would scoff at the idea of me ‘owing’ him anything. He knew we had a story to tell – a story that would help others. The amazing comments from readers were never a surprise to him…he just continued to say, “I’m so honored to be your husband.”
That compass point is Tucker, helping him to become the best version of himself. Honestly though? I don’t know if I could do what I do for him if it weren’t for the type of love that I receive from my husband.
When I was in my 20’s and read the Alchemist I believed in this paragraph – but as I reread the paragraph last year I sobbed. I sobbed because it’s what I have. This shepard boy, the star of the story, meets a woman and the narrator writes about love. “It was the pure Language of the World. It required no explanation, just as the universe needs none as it travels through needles time. What the boy felt at that moment was that he was in the presence of the only woman in his life, and that, with no need for words, she recognized the same thing. He was more certain of it than of anything in the world. He had been told by his parents and grandparents that he must fall in love and really know a person before becoming committed. But maybe people who felt that way have never learned the universal language. Because, when you are in that language, it’s easy to understand that someone in the world awaits you, whether it’s in the middle of the desert or in some great city. And when two such people encounter each other, and their eyes meet, the past and the future become unimportant. There is only that moment and the incredible certainty that everything under the sun has been written by one hand only. It is the hand that evokes, love, and creates a twin soul for every person in the world. Without such love, one’s dreams would have no meaning.”
It’s this love and compass that helped me write – not only to begin writing but to write every day. It wasn’t just me…it was his love for me and for Tucker. It was his love for our story. It was his belief in all of us that propelled my confidence and willingness to share this story with all of you.
For that, I will be forever grateful.