The worst cup of tea in the world
I don't know exactly how old I was, but I think it was during a holiday when I was a college. Mum asked if I would like a cup of tea, which of course I did. Now normally she makes the best tea ever, but this was truly awful. It tasted off, it smelt, and was the wrong colour and everything. It was disgusting, and for some stupid reason I kept drinking it! What was wrong with it? Then I realise. What a idiot, it was coffee!!!!!!! I took another sip, and the taste completely changed - it was a really nice cup of coffee!!!!! Now do you see why it took so long to understand the significance of this? or even why I think it significant at all! (loving the exclamation marks!!) Well it so important that it deserves a whole line to itself.
The coffee didn't change - but my perception of it did - and my experience changed with my changed perception.
Now I'm not bragging, but people have written tonnes of self help books about that one line and made millions from it, and I've done it in one line, for free! Move over Wayne Dyer and Louisa L Hay - there's a new kid on the block!!
So where does that fit in with my autism thing. Well, before he was diagnosed, he was a nightmare and we all knew something was very wrong. A blind man in a box could have told you that, but we had no idea what to do to help. With his diagnosis came understanding and a place to start helping. I have had many moments when - God forgive me - I wished he had never been born. But then, I wouldn't have met so many wonderful people, and I wouldn't have realised my purpose. My life would have been calm and predictable ( which don't get me wrong would be nice now and then) but it would have been stale and stagnant.
Now back to my ceiling. A few years ago, before I got a grip and started interventions with Ed (more on that latter), we had an exciting few hours. I can't remember all the fun in the correct sequence, but it involved my darling sister coming for a visit to light my darkness. As I bathed in her company, Ed had done a massive poo somewhere, and I had him upstairs to clean him up, and cleaned everything else. So disaster averted, I was laughing with my sister when a loud plopping sound came from the hall. He had only flooded the bathroom. So 3-4 years latter, that bit of ceiling had just had enough and ended it all on the floor. So, I just have a bit of sweeping to do, and I would much rather do that than search through the rubble for my loved ones. As for autism, I really believe I can 'recover' Ed, and for that I am grateful.