One small win at a time

My youngest, M (21), finished his Level 3 game development course at college in Manchester last week. He’s so proud of himself.

Two years ago, he could barely speak. I went to his interview and open day. I was nervous because he'd be at least an hour away, and they might not understand his tics or a meltdown if things overwhelmed him. Having just finished year 14, his smile would never quite reach his eyes, and he would never look non-family members in the face.

His open day shocked me, he was engaging and shouting out answers.  His eyes lit up seeing the bank of gaming computers and he was laughing.

For the first 3 months, I was riding the train back and forward to and from Manchester twice a day, so he could learn the route, watching his anxiety rise when traversing the roads he had to cross. We live in a town that has a circle highway. But I did a thing, told a little white lie. I told him my hip was hurting, so I couldn't pick him up. He did it, though.

Autism presents in different ways, routine and a bit of understanding is a great way to help, both of which his college and the staff gave all their students.

He wasn't the only Autistic youth there.  I watched staff members like a hawk the first few days.  And slowly, my boy, my youngest, was making friends, exchanging numbers and chatting on a group chat.

Roll on August 15th when we get his final results.

But the grade was never important to me, his mental health was.

Not saying he's a social moth now, but he has friends who he speaks to regularly. He doesn't go anywhere else on the trains; it's not the train that gets him anxious, it's outside the stations.

One small win at a time

With Love and Light 

Amanda