No, We Will Not Be Silenced — The Need for #AuthenticAwareness

As we start our #AuthenticAwareness campaign for April, a mother decries our national crisis, saying the “lack of answers … is directly related to the fact that we’re scared to talk about it.”


By Sheryl St.Aubin

He closed his fist as it landed hard on my cheekbone, and my eyes started to water as I gritted my teeth through the pain.

How could a person who loved me do this?

I steadied my feet, and he came at me again. This time, his kick landed in my stomach. 

I begged him to stop, but he wouldn’t.  

He seemed hell-bent on hurting me. 

I thought the look of fear on my face would slow him down, but it didn’t. He bit down on his upper lip, and I knew it was coming. 

I took a brief second to peek out at him and realized that the only way to make it stop was to escape.

As I tried to crawl away, he unexpectedly grabbed a handful of my hair, and I thought what did I do to trigger this? 

Did I provoke him?

All I had said was “No.” 

Simply no and this word had unleashed hell. I jumped up and ran to the other room, slamming the door behind me.  

My breath quickened as I waited, hoping he would calm down. 

He began to rattle the doorknob, and I hesitantly let him in, bracing for potential impact. 

He looked down at me, crumpled on the floor, and quietly said, 

I’m sorry. I love you mommy. 

Yes, the person who inflicted this kind of pain was my six-year-old son Finn. 

Finn was diagnosed with severe autism at two and a half years old. On that life-changing day, I never imagined the pain he would inflict on me. I wish I had answers, but I don’t. Why does he act this way? I often question. Is it anxiety? Or a bad reaction to medication? The late effects of a full moon? Was it literally the word no? Is there a noise bothering him? Does the sound of my voice annoy him? Maybe he’s sick? Or in pain? Is he seeking sensory input, trying to get attention, or acting out a youtube clip he watched? Hungry? Thirsty? Or he might be tired, really tired because he never sleeps. So many possibilities and so few answers.  

That’s the only sure thing about it, but I’m his mother, I’m supposed to have answers, right? But I don’t. And being a part of this autism community, I can assuredly say, I don’t think anyone does, not even the experts. And this lack of answers, I believe, is directly related to the fact that we’re scared to talk about it. Scared to share our “Dirty Little Secret.” Instead, we keep our lives tucked away and our feelings pushed down to the deepest crevice we can find. We stay isolated because we’re scared to share because when we do, we’re shamed and ridiculed. 

We’re told our kids need more discipline. Or the autistic community comes after us and shames us for sharing about our children online. Or, in the worst-case scenario, we’re scared that someone who doesn’t understand will call CPS and have our child removed from our home. We are also passively silenced with mounds of paperwork and impossible income limits for the resources we desperately need to survive another day. 

However, silence isn’t working anymore, and it’s time to change course. 

I could tell you more stories about damaged furniture, walls, broken collectibles, picture frames, and shattered lightbulbs. Or the hard blows to our glass patio door and flatscreen that he smashes his head into. I could lament about the large toys and food thrown at my head and face, and the repeated kicks to my arms and legs that left me bruised. I could tell you about the hits that left handprints, dislocated jaws, bloody, broken noses and a broken arm. And I know, I’m not alone. 

I argue with my husband over the inevitable, asking “what happens when he gets bigger and stronger” and we lie awake at night praying to God that we won’t have to send him away. That terms like, “residential” and “treatment centers” won’t become our reality, and the situation won’t get so bad that we can’t keep ourselves or even him safe. Because the injuries don’t stop with us. He hurts himself too, and we are usually powerless to prevent it. 

If he can hurt me this way at age six, what will happen when he outweighs me? Odds are he will need lifelong assistance and will probably live with us forever and that thought terrifies me too. But he’s my child and so there’s a never-ending love attached to these feelings. The weight of it is so incredibly heavy. 

I often wonder where does the autism begin and end? What part of him makes him hurt like this, and so much so that he harms himself and others? I honestly would cut that part out if it meant he didn’t have to suffer, although I know that it’s not how autism works; it’s a part of him, it’s who he is, a boy riddled with anxiety and ADHD. 

And I can’t imagine a world where any parent out there, even the ones who think autism is the most awesome thing ever, can spin getting beaten up on a daily basis in a positive light.

This is not the time for parents to be silent. We are in a national crisis. The loss of school, therapies and services are at stake, and the choices being made will have long-lasting effects on our children’s future. Help is disappearing and our kids are being forgotten. We must be honest, no matter how hard that may be. I am just one person with a story like many. I am simply a mom who wants the best for her child and family.

This is the most difficult thing I’ve ever shared, my daily heartbreak in written form. My hope in sharing it is that it will make others feel less alone and that the right people will begin to listen.

I write this for those who are fighting the same battle.

I see you.

I hear you.

You are not alone.

Sheryl St. Aubin and her family reside in sunny, Florida. She is a Mama Bird to three beautiful, socially unique, children. While juggling her busy life, she spends her days writing and connecting with caregivers just like her. By sharing her story, she hopes to provide support and raise awareness for the special needs community. Her writing has been featured on Today’s Parents, Finding Cooper’s Voice, Filter Free Parents, Her View From Home and Love What Matters. You can follow her journey on Instagram: threelittlebirds321 or on Facebook at Three Little Birds – Raising Kids on the Autism Spectrum.

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