Connection. Rejection.

In her 2010 Ted Talk, Brene Brown says "Connection is the reason we [humans] are here". I believe it, and yet connection continually eludes me.

Turns out I am not alone in that feeling.

I am writing this blog entry in my art therapy journal from my online Brene Brown art therapy course. (We'll get back to that in a second.) I am writing in my journal at the beach, about 100 metres away from where my non-verbal 5 year old ASD son is playing with his dad... and his 2 year old half- brother, and his dad's second wife (who is inappropriate because of her original relationship to me and my son's dad; but she and my son's dad have a child together now so it ain't going away, and its not my story to tell online). At this very moment, rejection is screaming in my ear and jumping up and down on top of my head. But this rejection has been thrust in my face long enough, that while I feel the constant stab, I have become accepting of the pain. It adds a few clouds to the day, but it no longer ruins it. I only add this because it plays into the vulnerability of what I'm writing about at the moment.

Back to the Brene Brown art therapy course... I am taking it a second time because I was invited to be part of a local group of people doing the course for the first time. Something nagging deep inside me told me I should do the course a second time because there was probably something I missed the first time. The first sections of the course are about Connection and Courage. I focused mostly on Courage my first time through because that's what I needed at the time.

 "We get courage by couraging," Brene says, and whether I wanted to practice courage or not in 2013, (NOT was the case) I had to. And I did develop a lot more courage (though I still need to consume large doses of it every day, so I guess that means I'm still amassing it?)

Three years after the first time I read Brene's book, "The Gifts of Imperfection", the theme that is emerging for me is Connection, which my heart's knowing grin tells me that I quite purposely glossed over these pieces the first time I did this course. I just didn't have capacity to look at this needy part of my life the first time. But I guess I did so well with the courage piece that I now have courage to look at my difficulty with Connection.

Like the research subjects Brene refers to in her 2010 TED talk "The Power of Vulnerability", I can't really tell you much about connection, but I can tell you a whole lot about rejection. And as I bring up this topic with friends who aren't necessarily intimate friends, but whom I feel free to speak deeply with, I hear much rejection from them too. Rejection (or lack of inclusion) from syblings, parents, colleagues, friends, and lovers. Then there's those who are identified as a minority, for whatever reason, who are also not included by society at large.

I have to wonder why so many of us who are confident and capable and loving and loveable LACK close intimate relationships of the friendship variety, (community?) causing us to feel so alone. Brene would probably say its because we're not being vulnerable enough, with ourselves, with our loved ones, with our God.

I would agree. But some of us are working on being vulnerable and are doing really well at it, even though it hurts. Many of my colleagues and acquaintances are clinical therapists, and they know how to achieve relational intimacy and they are doing they're best at it, but they also say they are lacking close friends.

Why are so many of us lacking close friendships then?

 

Why do I hear and see so many people saying,

"I have lots and lots of acquaintances, but I don't really have any friends."

In my city, I think the astronomical cost of living is taking its toll on people's ability to nurture the main thing that gives us meaning in life: human connection. That's a big factor. But that's not the only factor. I'd bet we'd find just as many people in affordable cities who are surrounded by acquaintances and still feel lonely.

I think it might have more to do with the way western societies are all about the individual pursuit of happiness, whereas eastern cultures tend to be more about the wellness of the whole group... the family unit, or even the community. While it might seem like a good thing for an individual to succeed and actualize their potential, the problem that emerges is that when a person fails to actualize, all the failure falls on that one person.[Credit: I'm pretty sure I got this individual vs group mentality stuff either from Richard Rohr, Dacher Keltner, or both.] When group/family wellness is the goal, then when people fail together, they are still together. Its not as devastating... because "connection is the reason that we are here"... so you haven't lost everything. You still have the connection. (Unless you are a character in Game of Thrones, then if the group fails, you all die!)

Which brings me back to my lack of connection.

I would say I am quite good at connection, when its a fairly safe bet; like I am awesomely connected with my son. But his autism prevents him from socially reciprocating. (He is full of hugs and cuddles and tickles and wrestling, but he can't share memories with me, or celebrate holidays, discuss things, etc.)

I am great at connecting with colleagues at work who also want to be connected, but I don't belong in any identified groups, so I get left out a lot.

I am disconnected from anyone I need to be connected to, but with whom it is inconvenient to be connected to. Autism  throws a giant wrench into connectivity because a few autism outburst from the past have basically kyboshed any future connections because people are still traumatized from the previous ones. The result is my son and I are on our own. And it doesn't feel good. I think we need to belong to somebody or something.

I felt this lack of belonging for my son and I already last year. I attempted to fix it by 'building a team' around my son, in terms of support and respite people. I asked about 8 trusted families about being part of our team. They all considered it heavily, and all of them (many with tears) said they're just too busy with sports/church/health issues, etc. More rejection... for really good reasons, but still rejection.

I want to get real about this Connection thing. Because Brene is right. Connection is everything.
      - I really like the beach.
      - I really like the beach by myself.
      -  But after 10 times at the beach by myself, it would mean so much more to share it with  
        someone (friend or otherwise).

Right or wrong, I have given up on people I should be connected with. I am pondering that maybe the way for me to achieve real connection in an on-going way might be more about building my family than building-in play dates. There are others out there who don't even have 1 person they belong to. So maybe we can belong together.

Ironically (or probably not if you're a shame researcher like Brene Brown) it will take a lot of courage if I do proceed with building my family. It's unknown. It's unpredictable. It's forever. So it's scary. But it will also take a lot of courage to continue to not-belong as we currently sit.

YES. We have autism.

I get a weekly newsletter from mindfulness expert, Dr. Rick Hanson (not the Man In Motion) at work. Today's newsletter was called "Say Yes." Essentially it was about the well known concept that suffering lies in the resistance, so when we say 'YES' to life (instead of resisting), we suffer less. It doesn't mean we have to like it, but it means we are accepting it for being what it is. Such as 'Yes, there is nothing good for breakfast,' or 'Yes, I would like a pumpkin spice latte, but I can't afford it.' or 'Yes my desk is covered in mouse poop again this morning, and I am still thankful for my job,' or

Yes, we have autism.

I say 'we' because even though its my son who holds the diagnosis, he and I are all in this together. He suffers in significant ways at the hands of autism, and so do I.

For the first four years I have generally been able to help him contain his frustration and lack of emotional regulation. But he has done a lot of growing up over this summer before Kindergarten, and all of the sudden his rage and upset are moving beyond what I can intervene with. I am starting to get the point where I have to let go a bit and allow him to find his own way through autism.

In the last week my son has bitten two people through the skin, one of them he bit three times (and that person knew better how to prevent the bites, but didn't). He began brutally biting and tearing at his skin with his own teeth when he was prevented from biting others (and he rejects chewy toy interventions). He INSTANTANEOUSLY goes from relaxed to screaming and smacking his head on the ground. And my arms are black and blue this week from his pinches. (The pinches used to be the big problem. Now I think, "Oh, its just pinching. That will just bruise.")

What are all these tantrums about? Could be anything. Like he has brought me his sippy cup to get refilled with water. Since I have to walk to the fridge, get the water out, take the lid off the cup, pour the water into the cup, and twist the lid back on, he is tantruming because I haven't instantaneously supplied water in his mouth. He knows I am getting it for him. But he can't stand the wait. Or the most common tantrum as of late is because he really enjoys a song on one of his tv shows and he wants it replayed instantly. Yes, we have the technology to do so, but he will tantrum unless you replay the same 2 minutes over and over for hours on end. I am not exaggerating. When I once permitted this behavior because I couldn't stand the screaming, I replayed the same 30 seconds on his iPad video for almost three hours. The only reason I could stop was because he fell asleep.

So, to help me survive autism, I have elected to replay the same 30 minute video all day, of which he likes three segments. So he is happy for 5 minutes, screaming for 10 minutes, then happy for 10 minutes, and screaming for the last five. I feel he needs to learn to wait for his favorite parts to come on, even if it doesn't feel good to wait.

In my survival of this cycle I have noticed that when I intervene to prevent his potential injury, such as put my hand between his banging head and the floor, he stops head-banging, and targets his frustration at me by pinching, biting, and screaming all bloody hell at me. Or he does anything in his power to get away and bang his head in another spot. He seems to know I am mostly horrified by the head banging and the screaming, so that's what he does.

Yesterday afternoon I decided just to leave him be. The fastest way to de-escalate him is to leave him alone with some blankets and pillows. As I watched him without being seen, there was very little head butting. There was self-biting, but he wasn't biting through the skin, and it appeared that he wasn't getting the bang for the buck that he was used to. So he tried something different. He tried throwing chairs. He preferred his kiddie chair since he could throw it farther and louder, but he attempted the kitchen chairs too. Since he is only four I doubted one would go through a window, so I let him be. It was quite a cacophony.

I realize that in just a few years I won't be able to let him do this kind of thing anymore, but we are not there yet. I do have an option of creating a padded room in the basement when he grows older if need be. I am hoping he can verbally communicate by then and we won't need it.

In my theme of rest and healing, this doesn't jive. This is why I need to focus so much on rest. But YES, the suffering is found in the resistance. If I want to stop suffering and keep healing, I need to say, Yes, some days it is a mad house. This is what autism is.

And Yes, we have autism.