Empathy

em·pa·thy  noun   \ˈem-pə-thē\

: the feeling that you understand and share another person's experiences and emotions : the ability to share someone else's feelings.

My husband recently had a heart attack. I knew as soon as I found out that telling Reid would be hardest. Not because he would be so upset. But because his routine would change. Thank God for my neighbors who are teachers, friends & understand all about Asperger's. They made sure he was picked up from school at the same time, given the right amount of  information & then allowed to go home. Because that's what he does every day. (My other two were fine at their awesome Aunt Stacey's house, being non Aspie they considered it a treat to be picked up by cousins, plans cancelled, dinner changed & routine thrown out. They had a BLAST!!) My wonderful cousin Kayla came to spend the night here because Reid can't sleep anywhere else. He technically could if he HAD to but to be perfectly honest, dealing with him after a routine adjustment is something I avoid. It takes days for him to recover. Kayla even commented he was having so much fun. And he was. I was at the hospital & he missed me, because I'm supposed to be home, but his life was the same.

So here's where trouble sets in. My neuro typical children adjusted when Greg came home. They immediately saw that he was resting, so they were quiet. They did extra chores because they saw it needed to be done. They gave extra hugs because they now know that hospitals save lives. Reid was business as usual. Same expectations. I found myself getting more angry by the minute at his questions, assumptions & lack of empathy. I finally exploded. "Do you not see everyone else doing more? Do you not understand Daddy had a heart attack & we all need to pitch in? Do you not care about anyone?"  I'll save you & mostly myself from the rest. With a blank stare he quietly replied "No. I don't see what you see. I don't get emotions or people. You know I'm not good with that."

After 14 years you would think that I would get it. I hate myself for getting mad at him for the very  reason I write this blog. To help people understand WHY he's this way. Several things clicked into place & I finally got it. I really got it. I can't make him empathetic. Somewhere deep inside my heart I think that sometimes I secretly wait for him to get up one day & scream "Hey guess what, I have empathy!" Like it's some kind of elusive super power you can be gifted. Everyone else sees Reid as we've prayed for & worked so hard to accomplish. And if I'm really honest with you & me..sometimes I see him as what he could be. Or should be. When what he is right now is perfect. He's Asperger. He's everything I write in this blog. More than that but you know what I mean. He is an Aspie. The very minute I had the epiphany that took years too long, I saw that he does do things, in his own way, to show that he cares. How can I have missed this? It's not what a typical person would do. But he's not typical. I stay so busy trying to make sure that he's ready for the world & people are ready for him that I forget who he is. And what he has.

So yet again, we go back to basics. He IS empathetic in his own way. He does feel bad that I was sad & his Dad had a heart attack, but cannot express anything about it. So instead he steps in to boss the little ones around. Because Dad can't right now. And he fixes dinner. And he reminds me of what I need to be doing because that's what Greg would be doing. I saw bossy, messy, meddling. He was filling shoes. I will continue to show him ways he can appear empathetic but I WILL stop expecting him to show it the way I think he should. I was under the delusion that if I said it a million different ways that maybe he would absorb it, like osmosis. Meanwhile, I was being the worst type of hypocrite. Expecting him to exhibit something I wasn't freely giving to him. Empathy.

Expectations are a tricky thing. They are wonderful to have & imagine. But the moment someone or something doesn't live up to yours, how do you handle it? I can say I handle it poorly. Very poorly. Trying to not have them seems impossible. I mean you can't make plans without them. But adjusting once the expectations you have get tangled with the reality of what really is takes patience. If patience was a lake I'd be the rainfall leftovers in a very distant, small puddle. Now that I know my expectations are so off base it's easy to cast them aside. Because Reid surpassed everything I ever expected. Ever imagined or prayed for long ago. And I'm messing it up by being selfish. This does not mean my parenting is done. It means I'm done expecting more when what I have is the son I was told he could never be. The son that I imagined sitting in that tiny room as the Dr. rattled off everything he would never do, never accomplish. The boy that God gave me. The only expectations I need to be worried about are His. So I'm going to focus on those.