My son was sick, and I was the only one who could see it.

He was suffering from anxiety. He had been suffering since he was 18 months old.

Then, he was five years old and had to start school.

It was all down hill from there. It was bad. Really bad.

Rage would take over his body as soon as he walked out of the school towards my car. He would contain himself all day, and then, would let it out when he got to the car in the afternoon.

I am talking three hours of tantrums every single day.

He had become less and less himself in the six months since he started school.

He would no longer smile, make eye contact or hug me.

As his mother, this was heart breaking to watch. I felt like I had no control over what was happening to him. He wouldn’t talk to me. Instead, he would just make strange noises. All he wanted to do was play with his train set. It was a battle to bathe him, a battle to feed him and a battle to get him to bed.

At this point, I didn’t have much left in me—I was desperate.

I asked his teacher for help. I cried and told her I thought he had Aspergers. She said he was fine, that he was different, but that it’s not Aspergers, because she would know.

She suggested he was spending a little bit too much time with his mother, though. That broke my heart, because my whole life was based on building him up to be strong enough to face school, and then picking up the pieces that were left when he came home.

I took my son to our doctor, and told him I thought my son had Aspergers. The doctor laughed at me and blamed me for his tantrums and said he needed to play soccer.

I took him to a specialist and the specialist finally said that he had Aspergers, and severe anxiety. She told me that he will always have Aspergers. I said okay, but that I didn’t want to medicate him, I wanted to explore a natural alternative.

She gave us antidepressants and a sympathetic smile.

I took my son home.

I cried.

I cried a lot.

I felt alone—like the whole world had forgotten us.

As he slept that night I stood at his door and I made him a promise. I promised him that I would find the answers, and would rescue him from his sadness and pain. One day soon, he would smile again.

I couldn’t ask anyone else for help, there was no one.

As I opened my laptop, I took a deep breath, I summoned all the strength I had left.

I sat there and spoke to the part of myself connected to the universe—something within me, but higher than myself—and then I waited.

A couple hours later, I had my answer.

By midnight I had found a naturopath that sounded like she could help us. That very next week she did.

She gave me hope, and the knowledge that I needed to start to my son’s recovery from the autistic spectrum.

We began a special diet and supplemented his recovery with vitamins.

Two weeks later, I walked into the lounge where my son was playing, and he looked up at me and smiled. As I sat there hugging him and crying, he looked up at me and asked, “Mummy why are you so sad?” I told him, “Honey, I am happy, so very happy.”

I knew from that moment I had to follow my intuition. That was my connection with the universe.

When it seemed like no one else could help me, the universe would always be there to support me when I needed it.

This journey wasn’t easy, in fact it seemed nearly impossible at times, until I looked inside myself for the answer.

You have this power inside you too. We all do. We just have to remember to use it. When we can’t get the answers from anyone or anywhere, we must look inside ourselves, because it is there that we will be supported—that’s where the real answers are.

 

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Apprentice Editor: Emily Bartran/Editor: Rachel Nussbaum

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