Memory is a funny thing. We tend to forget, push away and even change what’s happened to us and the way we keep those memories in our minds.
It’s been 3 years since we moved from Pennsylvania to Texas, and it’s been 2 years since we moved from the apartment into the house.
Twice, since the boys were diagnosed with Autism, we’ve had MAJOR changes for the boys to the point where there was regression. So, I knew it was going to be hard moving from the house into an apartment, but I knew I could deal with it, just like I have in the past… and besides… it’s one step closer to us being able to move to Colorado.
I remembered little things, like the boys having a hard time sleeping.
Being upset because of change in routine and not knowing what’s going on…
I remember being tired.
Remembered Justin having belly issues…
I remember fearing regression.
I mean, who wants to work REALLY hard, just to lose it all?
I remember crying to doctors asking them to find another way to treat my children because I was scared they’d regress because it would be such a shock to their systems > like having 6 people holding them down while they’re screaming bloody murder trying to draw blood…
It’s ironic just how much I forgot or pushed away until it all happened again, until I started seeing the changes and remembering why I was so scared. Maybe I pushed it away… maybe I chose to forget. Maybe it’s my underactive thyroid, stealing pieces of my life, my memory… gone unless I took pictures or something triggers the memories again.
So it’s no wonder why people who have never lived with someone who has regression or dealt with it personally, would shrug it off and say something like “he’ll almost definitely regress… but regression is better than death”. Which, don’t get me wrong… it is… but regression isn’t something to sneeze at either.
It’s anxiety over not knowing where you are or why you’re here.
It’s being scared because things are new and have changed and your routine, the thing that kept you safe and understanding and knowing of what’s to come so you could finally breath, is gone and you don’t know when it’s coming back.
It’s shaking… trying to figure out what’s going on, and not being able to sleep for days or even weeks because it’s not your room…
It doesn’t look the same.
It doesn’t smell the same…
…sound the same.
It’s not eating…
It’s getting stomach issues because you don’t feel comfortable going to the bathroom in a new place.
It’s losing language because your body and brain can’t focus on speaking when it’s so focused on it’s fight or flight instincts.
It’s crying at night, asking to “go home”.
It’s grinding your teeth and never being able to just be still… because you’re not comfortable in this new place that isn’t your home.
It’s not understanding the new rules or forgetting them… so instead of staying inside with your mom, you find a way out… and not know how to get back or ask for help or even realize what you’re doing is wrong or dangerous… and your neighbors find you, call the cops. Your mom, barely able to breath, crying her eyes out, scared to death and panicking, that she’d find you hit by a car. Looking everywhere for you because you don’t have any “usual spots” or “typical routes” to even start looking in, finally sees you and can bring you back home… collapses on the floor… sobbing… living through another of her worst nightmares.
It’s a Mom, sitting on the floor outside of their child’s room… bawling her eyes out.
Praying her kids will calm down and go to sleep… because she hasn’t slept in days and she’s exhausted.
Hoping that they stop screaming…
That the kid who was here just a couple weeks ago, would come back to her.
Dreading how much work it’ll take to get them back to where they were…
Where her kids listened and didn’t run away from her… They understood, stayed safe… and knew how to behave because of repetition and understanding of expectations.
Where she could breathe… could allow herself to drop her guard for a few minutes throughout a day because she knew they were safe.
Instead of living in constant fear… having heart attacks when she can’t see all three of her kids right away…. Slipping into a panic attack, thinking they got out of the apt again.. And this would be the time CPS would take them away or she would find them at the bottom of the pool, taken or hit by a car.
Regression isn’t just needing to relearn a few words or “two steps forward, one step back”… it’s like a reset button. And you never know exactly what it’s going to reset. It’s anxiety and fear. It’s sleepless nights and crying… lots and lots of crying.
It’s everything and anything that isn’t health or safety getting put on the back burner.
And it’s what we’re dealing with right now…