This morning I woke up feeling scared and worried, and for almost an hour I lay in bed just feeling this pit form deep inside my chest. I wondered what kind of world my 6-year-old son with special needs will be living in? I wondered what he’d think when he’d learn that certain things that weren’t okay by us are now okay.
I also wondered if others will be kind to him when he doesn’t look them in the eye when they call his name, or when he can’t regulate his behavior because there’s just so much going on inside his head that not even I or anyone else can surmise to know. I wondered if I should push harder on behavioral therapy so he’ll, at least, appear to be like everyone else and therefore, not attract attention to himself as someone who is different.
I wondered if I could ever keep him safe even when I’m feeling far from safe.
In this election, that was all I worried about. Him and how he’ll navigate the world ahead, especially when the day comes when I’m no longer around. What, then, will happen to him? Will the world be more tolerant of him? Will it be tolerant at all? I honestly don’t know.
But even as the world seems bleak to me at this moment, I do know one thing, and that’s to never give up, no matter what happens. I owe that to him most of all.