The hidden pictures

If we were in a family tug of war, it was one we couldn’t see.  We knew that our deck of cards were quite different from those around us.  The trials of a special needs family was a dynamic that we lived as a trial by fire.

This is where social media hurt us.  Our pictures made our story look poetic.  We had three beautiful kids who ate ice cream as a treat.  They would go bowling.  They would bounce on a trampoline.  We were just like anyone else if you wanted to click the like button.  It was my fault.  It’s what I wanted life to be.

Pictures were a facade.  They didn’t show Sawyer not talking many words.  It didn’t show his screaming in a grocery store because I couldn’t understand what he was saying.  It didn’t show my inability to truly connect with my son.

A picture was my hope.  My attempt to convince myself that we were living  just like everyone else.  I mean if pictures depict happiness than it must be the real thing?  

That’s what Autism brought to me at times.  A truck load of confusion and blurred vision on what was real and what was not.

I had many moments of not enjoying what was because I was scared to understand what and who we were.  They were my insecurities about the unknown and I hoped things would be fixed to what I was willing to show.  

It was remarkable what was truly hidden in my pictures.

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