If you had asked me ten years ago if he'd ever be able to live on his own, my answer would have been swift: "No, that's never going to be a reality."
If you had asked me twenty years ago, I wouldn't have been able to consider that possibility; I would have broken down in sobbing tears, with waves of utter hopelessness washing over me. I would have told you I didn't think he'd live that long.
Bill and I cried on his fifth birthday; neither thought we'd ever see that day. He was too impulsive, too dangerous. In five short years, we had stopped him from more accidental deaths than any mother should have to witness or prevent.
Ezekiel, our oldest, now 22 years old, is autistic and has been diagnosed by the San Antonio Children's Mental Health Hospital as the most extreme case of ADHD ever documented. He was, to put it bluntly, a holy terror. He never stopped for more than five minutes, and his mood swings matched his fast pace. Bill and I used to take turns watching him sleep; some nights, it was only 45 minutes. We knew once he was awake, anything was possible, including setting the house on fire.
While we cried and celebrated the night he turned five, we grieved and inwardly died the night we drove him to the mental hospital when he was six. There, he was placed on maximum lockdown security for his safety and others. There he was, drugged as if he were a 300-pound man and not a tiny but tall six-year-old. As far as I was concerned, my life was over. I had failed as a mother.
Fast-forward to the year one of his sisters almost died from an extreme and unknown illness, and everything we thought would happen in his future began to change. It was at this time that essential oils entered my life. I had never heard those two words being combined, so when I first encountered their aroma, I immediately thought: " They were just tiny bottles of stinky smells," and the now-cliche phrase, "snake oils."
Praise the Lord, Bill was far more optimistic. He dove head-first into the natural world of healing, and our lives would never be the same. Step by step, year by year, our firstborn transformed from holy terror into a really cool kid with a big heart.
For the first few years, we focused on getting him off all medication and detoxing his rapidly declining body. For the next few years, we worked on stabilizing his mood swings. Finally, we focused on his emotions and slowly, over time, taught him how to have appropriate feelings relating to the circumstances. We thought his training was over. He could get along with people to accomplish basic tasks while not losing his mind in fits of rage.
But...
The possibility of him ever living alone wasn't his reality, or so we thought.
Ezekiel's favorite pastime in the days before Abby moved off to college was keeping her entertained and distracted from packing. She never minded, and I witnessed many days of her encouraging him to keep it up so she could avoid packing for as long as possible. When Zeke was much younger, he would often try to take out his angry outbursts on Abby. For the first decade of their lives, they hated each other. Now, they are inseparable. God is so good.
He begged us to stay home and watch our dogs while we went to Hawaii for three weeks. We've never left him alone for that long. The longest he's ever been left alone was five days. So, admittedly, Bill and I were worried. But we crafted a detailed plan that all of us could agree upon, and we tried it.
He's still ADHD and autistic. So, our worry was warranted, but this trip was different. This time, he rose to the occasion and soared to new levels we never believed were possible. (I'm so mad at myself for my limiting beliefs - never give up on your children, never!)
The girls and I filled the freezer with 25 meals (he can cook, but he's mastered reheating), set up our Skylight calendar with a chore list for him to check off every day, including the basics like taking a shower and brushing his teeth, and then his nine family members left him all alone for almost a month.
Every morning, I would call him while I made breakfast. We chatted for hours some days. He was good, really good. He loved the freedom and felt like a "man of his own house." By the end of three weeks, we heard, "I miss you guys. You're coming home soon, right?"
Can we pause for a moment, please?
If you have an autistic child, then you know how big that statement is for a parent. Autism is a mental health disease of no emotion and no connection to other people.
He missed us!
He even said he missed getting hugs every day from all of us.
You can bet your buns that he would get tackled in a massive bear hug when we walked in the door from our trip. But to our surprise, he met us outside and ran to hug all of us when we drove in. After bringing in all our luggage, I looked around the house. The dishes were done (he confessed to doing all three weeks that day - we will work on that next, lol), and the dogs were well cared for. He had showered and kept the house relatively tidy. The floors weren't swept, and dog hair the size of small rabbits was in every corner, but all the things that mattered were done and done well.
I'm so proud.
As we caught up over the next few days, Ezekiel commented that he was ready to live independently. Bill and I couldn't deny it. He was capable, and denying him the chance to try would be wrong. Eventually, we thought, "What if we moved him into an apartment up near Abby?" The two of them are super close—we'd be less than three hours away, and they would have each other if anything went wrong.
Ezekiel loved this idea. Abigail begged me to move him up there as soon as possible, so I began calling around for an apartment. There are so many up there to choose from right now. I have it on my to-do list, so I will pick one by the end of the week and sign a contract.
His next "leveling up" is for him to learn how to keep a full-time job without someone working alongside him to ensure he stays working. Still, he is ready to live independently, with family checking in on him often. I am so excited about this next colossal step he's more than prepared for. And I'm most excited for our morning chats while I make breakfast.
If you haven't read the first two chapters of my book, you can grab a copy here. It's a tearjerker at times, but it's a story that needs telling and will give you hope and a plan if you are struggling with an autistic or ADHD child.
The Skylight Calendar with the chore option has been a game changer for Ezekiel and a massive blessing for our neurotypical children. Five stars, highly recommended for getting organized, staying organized, and motivating your children to do the same.
These are items I use and love. If you take action (i.e., make a purchase) after clicking one of the affiliate links, I'll earn some coffee money, which I promise to drink while continuing to support your journey. You do not pay a higher price.
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