words to live by after the everywhere and nowhere

I am everywhere and I am nowhere.

The end of the year came and went. So did Christmas and holidays, days melting together like some kind of stressed out lava. My head too cloudy to think of a coherently titled blog post.
Exhausted and anxious.
Everywhere and nowhere.

There was some rest in January. There was play and some cleaning out of all the extra stuff, both physical and metaphorical that has filled my world since the Batsman's autism diagnosis almost three years ago. Our home based therapy program is over and the Batsman is going to primary school. Eager, excited and ready. Me, not so much.
Everywhere and nowhere.

I'm marking time until school begins proper on Friday. Everything I have done in the last three years has been leading to here. I feel kind of numb. Empty. There is no one word or emotion that can describe how I am feeling.
Everywhere and nowhere.

I must carve a new path now. I must learn how to live without the intensity of daily home therapists, appointments and the utter crazy, chaotic and exhausting schedule of an ABA program at home. Never would I have thought I would miss it but somehow I do. I miss the structure, the sense of purpose, the adrenalin. I'm not sure who I am any more. I am about to go looking.
Everywhere and nowhere.

Lots of great posts were written in the near shadow of the new year. So many people had the clarity to pinpoint a word or a collection to be their talisman for 2013. I watched these posts with great interest and a little envy but for me, the words wouldn't come.
Everywhere and nowhere.

So I am here now, on the cusp of the year's second month and I have six words. Six words that I am going to work to live into this year.

Play and fun.

Balance and peace.

Fit and strong.

I will let you know how it goes.

Image via we heart it

a christmas miracle

Prologue: This post is published on both of my blogs – on The I Love You Song and here on Segovia. I would not normally do that but this post is a special one to me, part of our family “archive” and I really wanted to share it as widely as I can. As I write this post on Saturday December 15, I am all too aware that on the other side of the world, in Newtown, Connecticut, there are many families experiencing unimaginable loss in the wake of the school shooting tragedy. My heart and my sorrow is with them. 


The Batsman has never really liked Santa. Terrified is probably a better word to use. We have one poor quality photo of Santa and the Batsman together taken when our boy was just a baby. Even in that photo he looks frightened.

The Batsman’s autism diagnosis brought with it a greater understanding for me of where so much of his terror was coming from. It was then and still is now, about change to routine, feeling overwhelmed, strong sensory responses to noise, crowds and chaos and a very big fear of new or unknown things. We have tried a few times in the past to have a Santa photo taken but each time it ended in great stress, tears and meltdowns. While I would have loved a Santa photo, especially once little brother Bowler came along, there was no way I wanted to cause the Batsman distress to get it.

In the grand scheme of things, a Santa photo is probably a small thing to hanker after, but it was one of those things I felt like was a bit of a childhood rite of passage, a memory to look back upon and smile at. My little flame of longing for a photo of my boys together with Santa kept flickering but I had largely given up hope of ever getting there.

A few weeks ago our local shopping centre advertised a new initiative – “Sensitive Santa” – special booked sessions with Santa for kids on the autism spectrum. I decided that we would have one more try at it through this program and the flame burned a tiny bit brighter. As part of “Sensitive Santa” we would have a 20 minute private session with Santa in the early morning before the Christmas chaos of the shopping centre began at 9am. The shopping centre customer service team were exceptional, ringing beforehand to confirm our time and “find out a bit more about the Batsman so they could brief Santa”.

We did a little bit of preparation with the Batsman (but not so much as to overwhelm him) – we read some stories, we practised some things he might say to Santa and we watched some YouTube videos of other kids meeting Santa. The morning arrived and off we went at 8am for our “Sensitive Santa” timeslot. I could write on and on here about what happened but the pictures tell the story much better than I could.

The Batsman took his time to get used to his (quiet and calm) surroundings, he chatted to Santa and showed him his shoes with the flashing lights, he told him what he wanted for Christmas and when we said goodbye, he HUGGED him.

I cried a lot. Tears of so much happiness leaked continually from my eyes that day. And they still are. The long wished for miracle of a photo of both boys with Santa came our way along with the very grateful reflection on just how far our Batsman has come in the last three years.

In the bigger picture, I was incredibly moved by the thought and care that Highpoint Shopping Centre put into this initiative. There was sensitivity and respect and a very real commitment to putting one of those “childhood rites of passage” within reach of families who love someone on the spectrum.

Happy Christmas from my family to you and yours.

Disclaimer: This post is my own description and opinion of our “Sensitive Santa” experience at Highpoint Shopping Centre. They did not ask me to write this post. It’s just written by a happy mum.