Author: Carly Porten

Hi! I’m Carly. I’m just a girl from small town Wisconsin trying to get through life in one piece. I am a single mother with an amazing little boy who is on the Autism Spectrum and I’m also a recovering alcoholic. There has been a lot of craziness in my past. There is a lot of craziness in the present and I know for sure there is a ton of craziness to come! I’m here to share it all with you. This is my truth. I am the Sober Autism Mom

Flashback

I was watching a documentary today about the artist Jelly Roll. In one part, they show him going into a rehab facility to speak. The second he walks into the room, it was like an instant flashback for me.

The chairs at the edges of a blank room so everyone is sitting facing each other. The wide variety of faces. Male and female. Young and old. People that look like the stereotypical type that would be there and people you’d never in a million years expect to find there.

I suddenly remembered that feeling of nervousness and dread when I walked into rehab for the first time. (I did a few months of intense outpatient rehab almost 10 years ago and have been clean and sober ever since.)

I scoped out the room and the people in it and was stunned when a person working there handed me a cup that was obviously for a urine sample. I remember looking at the cup, then looking up at the lady running the group and just simply saying, “Really?”

I kind of chuckle now when I think of the look she had on her face when she let out a , “Yup” as about as matter of fact as you could possibly be. They pointed me to the bathroom and I took my first piss test out of who-the-hell-knows how many! (I must say, after peeing in that cup, five days a week for a few weeks, I got really good at it and was oddly proud of myself for my new found talent! LOL!)

That first time listening to all of the introductions was nerve wracking because I knew it would eventually be my turn. I don’t think I heard much of what people were saying that first day but I remember being aware of how easily it came out of most people’s mouths. You could tell they’d gone through this routine a million times. “My name is so and so. I’m recovering from XYZ and I’ve been clean/sober for X days”

When my turn came, I could feel myself blush instantly and I could hear my heart pounding in my head. I only had about 4 days clean and sober so when I stated that, I let out a little, sarcastic , “Woo Hoo”, and waved my hands in the air in a mock celebration.

We would all laugh about that moment in the future. It became kind of a running joke actually, but I felt so fucking stupid in that moment! It’s a feeling that I’ll never forget.

That first day may have been uncomfortable as hell but the camaraderie built quickly, and when I found out I was pregnant a week later, they were the first ones I told. They were actually the only ones who knew for several weeks.

I’ll never forget the looks on a few of their faces as I confessed what a mind fuck it was, knowing that I had come THIS close to ending my own life about 2 weeks prior, but now I’m going to be bringing a brand new life into the world. There was so much weight on my shoulders and in my soul and the looks of concern from these people are etched into my mind to this day.

Here I am, clean and sober, 9 1/2 years later, but some things just instantly take me back to those moments that I believe will always be etched in my mind and in my heart. They are a reminder of where I started and an inspirational glimpse of how far I’ve come. I don’t flash back to that day all that often anymore, but when I do, it reminds me to stay humble and it always makes me proud of myself for how much I’ve accomplished since then.

The Many Signs

We were driving to my parents house yesterday and I took a slightly different route than usual. Dylan had asked me the last time we went there if we could start going the alternate route from now on. It’s not much of a difference as far as time or distance is concerned so I was happy to follow his request.

As I started taking this different route, I confirmed with him that this was still the way he wanted to go. He then said he wants to take the normal route when driving to my parents house, but wants the alternate route on the way home. I made the mental note and then started thinking about a few years ago and how much our driving routes dictated our lives at times!

I know this is going to sound strange but it’s very common for ASD kiddos to be very particular about what driving routes you take. They are very insistent about going certain ways and will get extremely agitated and upset if their desired route isn’t taken.

In Dylan’s case, he also had certain roads he liked to travel down because of the property number signs that were on the side of the road! (Dylan has hyperlexia and is obsessed with letters, numbers and space!) I spent a lot of time driving up and down these roads so he could look at the signs.

We would leave early to go places so we could drive down these roads before we actually headed to our destination. Other times we traveled down them on our way home. Sometimes we drove down the road once and other times we drove up and down the road a few times.

There were times when we needed to get to where we were going ASAP. We didn’t have the time to do any extra driving if we wanted to be on time. Sometimes Dylan was ok with this but other times, he would get really upset. I usually had to promise him that we could drive down the road later that day. This was the only way to calm him.

I’ve always loved to drive so the extra time in the car rarely bothered me. When I think about it now, I think it would be interesting to know how much extra time I’ve spent in the car taking alternate routes or just driving up and down Dylan’s favorite roads that he dubbed, “The many signs”.

I assumed Dylan’s preference for specific driving routes ended quite a while ago but I guess I was wrong. Part of me wonders how long it will last. It doesn’t matter to me though. I’m happy to oblige!

How Did You Know

One of the most common questions I get asked is, “How did you know Dylan was autistic?” To that, my answer is always, I actually had no clue! I’ve always considered ourselves very blessed to have gotten a diagnosis at a young age. Especially because of the way it all played out!

Dylan started receiving services through the county Birth to 3 Program when he was about a year old. I was struggling to get him transitioned over to jar foods. He wouldn’t eat much and the food had to be completely smooth or he would gag and throw up.

The amazing people in Birth to 3 worked with him for several months and once we got his eating on track, they left. When Dylan was about two years old, I called them back in to help him with his talking. He wasn’t picking up many words and when he did, he would only say it for a week or two and then stop. By this time, it was obvious to the professionals that he was behind in other areas too. This wasn’t a surprise to me. It seemed like from the day he was born, he always hit his milestones a few months later than what was normal.

We started working on not only his speech, but also pointing to objects or pictures in a book and other related things. It’s been so long now that I’d have to check his records to see exactly what we all started with. The Birth to 3 professionals continued to work with him through the next year. One thing after the next, Dylan was always just a little behind, so we continued to work with him.

During this time, Dylan developed an interest in letters and numbers, specifically letters. He had a toy that sang the ABC’s and he would listen to it nonstop. He also had a puzzle of his name that he would do over and over for hours.

I was in shock when an episode of Super Why was on TV and he started saying the letters on the screen. He was obsessed with the show and couldn’t talk yet but it was obvious that he knew his letters. By the time he did start talking, he already knew all of his letters and the sounds they made even though no one had ever really worked on it with him. He picked it up all on his own. He was recognizing a few words as well.

When it came time for Dylan to age out of the Birth to 3 program, the head of his team presented me with a packet of papers that talked about Hyperlexia. She just happened to have been at a seminar at a local autism center. The topic was hyperlexia, which is generally classified as being an early interest/obsession with letters and numbers and early reading. It used to only be associated with autism, but they were finding that there were cases of kids with hyperlexia who displayed autistic traits but weren’t on the spectrum.

I looked over these papers and it screamed Dylan. It was him to a T. I got a hold of the center right away so I could have him evaluated. There is no formal hyperlexia diagnosis, so in order to get the evaluation done, it needed to be a part of an autism evaluation.

I went ahead with the evaluation with no doubt in my mind that they would come up with a hyperlexia diagnosis. His therapists felt the same way too! Even though he was always a little behind and he had his little quirks, none of us suspected that he was autistic.

When the formal diagnosis finally came, I was not surprised he had hyperlexia but I was in absolute shock and disbelief that he was also on the autism spectrum. I had no clue…not one suspicion that he was autistic, so this diagnosis left me completely blindsided.

I remember asking the lady, “What do I do now?” She referred me to the Treffert Center and told me to start there. I really didn’t know much about autism and I was feeling so lost at that time. Feeling like a fish out of water, but I called the Treffert Center to start getting him the services he would need and I started educating myself.

The more I learned about the autism spectrum, the more Dylan’s quirks made sense to me. The arms that constantly flailed and pounded, the silly squinty eyed faces he would make, the severe car sickness he had and the puzzle that he would do nonstop for hours. One by one, little things started adding up and I could suddenly see what was there all along. I just never knew it because I knew nothing about the spectrum.

Once I educated myself about the autism spectrum and I learned how beneficial an early diagnosis and early intervention can be, I can’t help but feel extremely blessed by how everything worked out. If he hadn’t shown such clear signs of hyperlexia or if his therapist had never gone to that seminar, who knows how long it would have taken before I suspected something and acted on it. What would our life be like now if I hadn’t gotten him the therapy that has been absolutely life changing for him?

Dylan’s diagnosis was a complete shock that was stumbled upon due to a chain of events that could never have been predicted. Some people would say it’s a coincidence. Some people would say it’s fate. I know in my heart that the powers that be have a plan for us and what lead us to our unsuspected diagnosis is just the beginning!

Small Town and Special Needs

Living in a small town has its advantages and disadvantages. We live in a quiet little lake town. The people are friendly and the community as a whole is so welcoming. The apartment building we live in has the perfect location for us. It is tucked away in an area that most people wouldn’t even think to look. I’ve always considered this to add an extra level of privacy and safety. The other families that live here are wonderful and everyone watches out for each other and each others kids. It’s truly been a blessing to be able to live here and I would be happy to stay for many years.

The disadvantage to living here is that our special needs resources aren’t always close by. Different types of therapy is one thing that has been particularly difficult. When my son was younger, I had to drive about 45 minutes away most days so he could attend ABA therapy sessions at an autism center. As he aged out of that system, he was still in need of behavioral services. This also was about 45 minutes away.

This unfortunately got to be too much for my son to handle. His days at school are long for him and he needs a lot of time to decompress afterwards. A full day of school, followed by a 45 minute drive, a 45 minute appointment and then another 45 minute drive was just too stressful. I pulled him out of therapy with the phone number of someone who might be closer to us and could help him.

As life moved on and one change after the other occurred, therapy was set aside. The timing wasn’t right to get started but my son was doing well. I didn’t feel that getting started was urgent, so I held off.

We’ve come to a point where the timing is better and there are a few things that Dylan could really benefit from working on. I called the phone number to get set up with the therapist that I was told could help us, but he is no longer available. When I told the woman that I was looking for someone who could work with a young autistic patient in a location that was closer to us, she didn’t even have an idea as to who we could be referred to. She’s only familiar with people who are 45 minutes away from us.

The only advice I was given was to speak with the Dr. we used to see, hoping that he may have some insights. Even when we do find someone, we will most likely have to drive 20 to 30 minutes to get there.

Overall, the help and resources are out there. They just aren’t in our area. This causes a lot of extra work, time and money to obtain them. There have been times that I had considered relocating so that we could be closer, but that would mean we would need to move to a busy city. In my heart, I just don’t feel like that would be the right place for us. We are doing well in this quiet little town and I’m happy to take the good with the bad. I know my son would agree too!

How did I get here

Before I was a Sober Autism Mom, I was just a fucked up chick! I dealt with different types of trauma throughout my whole life and it affected me in many ways. So many stories that I could tell and at a pretty young age, I started thinking about writing them down. I often thought that people would be shocked by some of these stories coming from a small town girl.

I know now that some would be surprised but many would relate, and that others would have stories far worse than mine. Lately, I’ve felt like it might be time to share some of these stories. They contributed to who I am today and I started this page to tell my personal stories so, here we go.

At some point in my youth I had developed a stone faced stance that ended up using as a coping mechanism quite often. I have some ideas as to where it started to come from but I can’t say for sure. What I can say for sure is that I used it constantly when I got to the age where I started dating.

It’s so sad when I look back at how young I was. At 14/15 years old, I had become so used to boyfriends screaming in my face that they could be inches away from me, spitting as they screamed, and I could hold my composure, stone faced without the slightest twitch.

I wish I could say that things got better but it took a lot of years to break out of that toxic cycle. I experienced this same thing from one relationship to the next, but my protective armor that I had built came crumbling down one unexpected day.

I had broken up with my boyfriend not too long before, but he wanted to talk. I agreed to go for a walk and chat with him. It was an uncomfortable conversation but very calm. He was asking about the guy who I was interested in and I remember we both kind of looked at the ground in front of us as we spoke. He asked if I had kissed this new guy. I told him that I had, and then the sudden blow to the back of my head almost knocked me to the ground.

I caught myself before I could fall and caught a glimpse of him running across the road as I found my balance again. It was such an unbelievable shock to my system because it seemed to come out of nowhere. No screaming or tension beforehand…just a punch from behind that there was no way to see coming before feeling the impact.

I’m sure you can imagine that an incident like that would have a negative impact on a girl. I was 15 at the time and I wasn’t hearing much about others my age getting smacked around, so it ended up being an incident that caused me a lot of pain and confusion and I dealt with it alone.

The impact that this moment had on me would soon become very obvious when the next toxic relationship started and I once again had someone screaming in my face. My usual stone faced armor would go up, no doubt because this was this was how I was instinctively programmed by this point…..but I quickly realized that something had changed. There was now a chink in that armor and I was only able to keep my composure for so long until I was overcome with this overwhelming fear that I was about to get hit.

I eventually would start to cry and the more they screamed, the more anxious I got. I would later explain why I had freaked out during these incidents but them knowing how I was feeling didn’t help at all. More occurrences happened and I got more freaked out every time. I never understood why they couldn’t just stop. Instead they would scream at me more, treating me like I was being unreasonable. For some reason, I just couldn’t find any comfort in them yelling, “ I’m not going to fucking hit you!” as I was curled up in a ball on the floor while they punched the walls or whatever was in front of them.

Every new incident just made me more anxious though I had wished I could build that armor back up. The intense fear didn’t stop until I stopped experiencing these things and it unfortunately took me a long time to break out of that cycle.

Is this something that still affects me now? No, not so much. I feel very sad for that girl that stayed in such toxic situations but I know that these are things that I would never tolerate now. Could I keep my composure if it did happen once again? I think I would be good for a bit, but then they’d have to deal with the wrath that would come from me in return. I’m guessing it wouldn’t be pretty!

Gone But Not Forgotten

My Dad passed away two months ago. It still doesn’t feel real. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think of him but the day he died still feels like a bad dream. I’ve tried to be really mindful of my grieving process and dealing with the loss in a healthy way…and through it all, there are two important realities of my life that I feel have been magnified during this process.

I am clean and sober and I’m finding it harder to stay that way. I’m also an autism mom, helping her special need son grieve the loss of his grandfather.

The urge to drink hasn’t been a strong one but it hits me quite often. It’s definitely been a lot more than I’ve experienced in recent years. I’m thankful for the fact that these cravings aren’t the super strong ones that cause me severe anxiety. It’s more of a nagging feeling that just follows you around just letting you know it’s constantly there!

I’m also thankful that the thoughts that I need to deter myself come pretty automatic at this point. But I still have days that for just a few seconds, I entertain the thought of just letting myself have a drink or two, one more time.

I know that this will eventually pass and I’m just trying to take it one day at a time. Trying to get through the grieving without a relapse. Trying not to let myself down.

Helping my son deal with his feelings has also been a challenge. Helping any kid through this process is challenging, let alone a child who has autism. It’s hard to get inside of his head to figure out to what extent that he’s affected.

I’m not sure what to do in some cases. Should I bring it up so he can relate his feelings or will it stress him out more if he can’t really articulate his feelings? He wants to know specifics about why grandpa died and he finds it hard to understand that it wasn’t just one thing. The fact that there were many contributing factors is a concept that is hard for him to grasp….and hard for me to explain.

I try my best to explain things the best that I can and in a way that he will be able to understand, but it can definitely be stressful for me. Feeling emotional about the topic and then having to find the right words to tell my son when sometimes, I’d much rather shut down inside.

I never would have thought that losing my dad would somehow magnify the autism part of my life, but it definitely does. I also never would have thought that I’d be doing as well as I am with the sobriety part of my life, but I definitely am. There’s no way to predict how a person will be affected by loss but I’m honestly proud of myself and how I’ve gone through it so far. I know there isn’t one right way to grieve but there are definitely bad ways to do it and I’m definitely not doing it bad!

How to stay sober

It’s been over 7 years now since I quit drinking. I slipped once right away in the first week or two, but besides that, I’ve made it through all this time without relapsing. The statistics say that the chance of relapse is high. People often relapse more than once before they get sober for good. I was only in treatment for about 2 months. Didn’t go to meetings. Never got a sponsor or worked the 12 step program. To be honest, I have no clue what the steps even are!

But somehow, I’ve made it this far. People are often amazed by this and they often ask how I did it. My situation landed in a way where it just set me up for success I guess.

A week after I started treatment, I found out I was pregnant. That in itself was one factor that kept me on track. It wasn’t just about me anymore. I had a baby to think about and he was growing inside of me at that moment. Knowing this, didn’t mean that it was magically easier at first. I struggled every damn day for I don’t know how long.

It’s a weird thing at first because you spend all of your time focusing on learning not to drink. It’s hard to forget about your love and dependence on it when your whole life suddenly revolves around it, or not doing it, I guess I should say. Getting piss tested every day and sitting in uncomfortable chairs for hours with a bunch of other addicts doesn’t exactly reduce your stress. And holding back the morning sickness while admitting to a bunch of strangers that I became a total fuck up wasn’t ideal either. Those first couple of weeks, when I walked out of treatment, all I wanted in the world was to head down to my favorite bar and have a beer.

Despite the constant focus on alcohol, the baby still was able to help keep me straight. Once I told my family I was pregnant, big changes happened for me. It wasn’t really going to work for me to stay in the living situation that I was in so I needed to move. It was decided that the best thing for me at that time would be to move in with my parents.

This became another huge contribution when it came to staying clean and sober. There was no way I could take a chance at slipping up and getting caught. Life was crazy and complicated enough. If my family found out I had slipped, I knew the damage that would be done would be a huge blow to my gut that I just wasn’t sure if I could get through.

In those early days of sobriety it was Dylan and my family that really helped me to keep it together. Just the thought of letting them down was what kept me clean. Barely at times, but it did. I also had this voice in my head that kept saying, “What is drinking going to do to make me feel better? Right now, nothing actually! It’ll just fuck things up.”

I still have times where I really struggle with sobriety. Moments where I’m not sure if I can make it and I break down and cry in frustration. That little voice is always in my head though, and that’s what seems to keep me on track when I’m about to fall off. Because I know deep down, that if I slip, I will be so disappointed in myself that I’m not sure I could handle it.

Minecraft Undies

For the last two weeks, I’ve been so proud to watch my little man run around in his Minecraft undies. It’s been a long time coming. My little man is finally 100% potty trained!

I was always certain that this day would eventually come and I knew it was just going to take some time. Dylan always masters whatever skill needs to be achieved, but he does it in his own time. I’ve always been supportive of letting him master these things in his own time and I know in my heart that it will happen eventually.

The toughest part about potty training has been dealing with other peoples expectations. I have always known that once he was ready, it would come pretty easily. I knew that it might take a little extra time, but that he would get there. Every time he takes a new step, there comes a point where it just clicks, and then all goes smoothly. It has always been this way with everything else, and I knew that this was how potty training would be too.

When it comes to potty training any child, neuro-typical or not, we often look for signs of readiness. Not liking to be in a wet diaper or hiding in a corner to go potty. You often hear people say that once kids start to show the signs of readiness that it is a good time to start potty training.

I think that most children start to show some signs at a certain point but as time went by, Dylan was not showing the signs. People would ask me if he was doing this or doing that, and I would tell them no, he was not showing any signs of readiness. People were quick to blow it off though and insist that we try anyways. I honestly wish I would have followed my own gut instincts and just left it alone, but despite him not showing any signs of readiness, I attempted to potty train.

Needless to say, it was an epic fail. Several attempts were epic fails. At the time I wasn’t surprised, and it all just ended up being super stressful for both Dylan and I. Each time I tried to push it, it seemed like he just regressed in that area. I was always happy to just go back to the way the things were.

Other people seemed to be bummed out and I felt like they felt that I should’ve tried harder. I still felt the need to pull back though and I knew in my gut and in my heart, that this was not the right time yet.

Slowly but surely Dylan made progress. Things got better and I was always okay with that. I was always happy and content with small steps of progress. I never felt the need to rush the process because I knew it wasn’t really going to help. This little guy always masters what he needs to but he can’t be rushed!

Recently he’s become so close to being completely potty trained. He started making more baby steps in that direction right on his own, without being prompted. Then a couple of weeks ago, I had him try on some undies under his new pants, and that was it. He never put on a pull-up again. Never asked for one, not even at night. He just naturally transitioned himself right into it.

This has truly been another case where something within him just clicked, and that was it, he had mastered the skill that was sought. Looking back, I wish I would have just followed my own instincts when it came to potty training. I would have avoided a lot of irritation and frustration for us both!

I’m okay with Dylan’s progress happening on his timeline and I didn’t mind that this skill took a while. I must say though, now that he’s running around in his Minecraft undies, I’m so freaking proud of my little man! I always knew he’d get there!

Life is a Journey

You know what they say, life is a journey. Life is a lot of journeys actually. I’ve been on a path with a lot of small journeys and large journeys, that got me to where I am today.

I started a new journey with this blog a while back. People were enjoying what I wrote on Facebook so I decided to start the site, but then I drew a blank. Life got in the way and slowly but surely, time went by and this site fell behind.

I’ve wanted to get back on this path for quite some time now but I just didn’t know how. Today I find myself overcome with thoughts and emotions that I’m feeling the need to let out, so here I am letting it out. I’m feeling so blessed today because of the journey that I am on. This journey of simply being who I am, and being honest and sharing with people who I am, has led me to others who are on the same path or similar paths. There is a certain comfort that comes from being surrounded by others on the same path.

I find myself helping others on their journey and I have others who are helping me on mine. It’s truly amazing when you’re able to feel the karma wheel as it rotates and helps give your life a meaningful direction. I find myself helping others on their journey through recovery and sobriety. I find myself helping mothers find themselves again. I find myself helping other women become part of a space that is uplifting and nurturing and even as we try to create an income from home, we are also bettering ourselves and our lives in so many other aspects.

This journey of helping others and others helping me has expanded and covered more ground as time goes on. I’m so thankful for all of the love and support I’ve received, and the joy and fulfillment I’m finding in my life as I help others has been such a blessing.

To everyone who has been in my life the past couple of years: I thank you so much for your presence and all the learning and growing I’ve been able to do just because of your impact.

I guess I’m going to wrap this up with the simple thought that even though this piece isn’t the best of what I can do, I can’t help but feel like this is such an important step for me. The first one back down a path that I’ve been missing so much! Thanks to all that helped me get here and thank you for giving me the courage to just go for it. Messy action is better than no action at all!

Haircuts are like tattoos

Today I want to talk a little bit about sensory processing disorder. I’m not an expert, but I’ve soaked up a lot of knowledge and experience over the last few years and I feel like it’s something people don’t know much about or understand. I certainly didn’t before I got Dylans diagnosis. Now, I know you are probably looking at the title for this post and you are thinking I’m totally nuts, but I promise it will make sense in the end. 

As I said above, I’m no expert on the subject, but I’d like to explain my understanding about sensory processing disorder. It seems to me that the stereotype about autism includes people on the spectrum being sensitive to loud noises, do not like to be touched and are sensitive to bright lights or flickering neon lights. Though this is true for some people on the ASD spectrum, it’s not true for others. 

We all have senses: sight, smell, touch, taste, hearing. Everyone experiences these senses differently. Some hear better than others. Some see better than others. Some love salty flavors and some don’t…etc.  When someone has sensory processing disorder, it’s common for them to have super senses, where they feel these senses on a greater level than your average person.  In some cases, it’s the exact opposite. A particular sense may be dull for some people. 

When I was at the Wisconsin Autism Conference a few years ago, there was an expert speaker who gave some examples of this. These examples always stuck with me. She talked about a girl who had very sensitive skin.  Someone would barely touch her, and she would start to cry because she was in pain.  There was a story about a little boy who barely felt pain. His family had to keep a close eye on him and inspect his body often because he would get cut or injured in some way and not even feel it.  A skinned knee could easily get infected because the kid didn’t notice it, so he kept playing instead of going to an adult to get it cleaned up.  There was the women who couldn’t feel when she had to urinate.  She fell into a rhythm of using the bathroom every two hours so that she didn’t have an accident. She went every hour if she was drinking coffee. 

These are just a few examples of how people can feel senses a lot differently than most people.  There is more to it than this though, but for now, I feel like this is enough info to get my point across. Over the years, I have found some of Dylans sensory issues to be really obvious and others took a while to pick up on.  One thing that never changes for him is his discomfort with haircuts.  This is very common for people on the spectrum or with sensory processing disorder. It causes Dylan to have a lot of anxiety and fear.  Over the years, his therapists and I have worked with him to hopefully be a bit more comfortable with it.  I’m really not sure if he actually feels any better or if Hes just better able to sit through it just to get it done.  Even on a good day, it’s obviously a hard thing for him to go through so I just prefer to do whatever I can to avoid those sensations for him.  

A while back, I was reading an article that talked about a study that was done with people who were on the spectrum that really struggled with haircuts or nail trimming.  They hooked their brains up to some sensors and they watched their brain activity while cutting the subjects hair or nails.  What they found was that some of these people’s brains lit up in the pain area of the brain.  The study showed that there are people who feel physical pain when getting their hair or nails cut. 

I’m sure there are people who will look at this and think it’s crazy, but this is just another example of how sensory processing disorder can affect a person.  Dylan has always said “Ow” or “Ouch” while getting his hair and nails cut so I feel like it would be a terrible thing to just dismiss it and tell him, “Oh, that doesn’t hurt.”  Who am I to judge that? I don’t feel pain during these things, but I can’t dismiss the fact that he very well could be feeling some sort of pain! 

Since he struggles with anything having to do with his hair cutting, brushing or washing, I’ve found that it’s just so much easier to just buzz it really short at home. Less hair equals a lot less discomfort for him and it’s easier to just shave his head outside rather than trying to get him to sit still at a salon. I know some people might think, well, he’s doing better with it so maybe it isn’t bothering him as much as it used to. I used to think this too, but I’ve learned that his ability to sit through it isn’t a gauge of how well he’s handling it. 

This situation is similar to getting a tattoo. For some people, it doesn’t hurt much but for others it hurts a ton.  No matter what pain level you are feeling while getting one, you are going to do your best to sit still and get it over with.  Your ability to sit through it is definitely not an indicator to others as to how much pain you are feeling.  And the more tattoos you get, the better you’re going to get at sitting through it.  The same goes for Dylans haircut.  Just because he is better able to sit through it doesn’t mean that he’s feeling any less discomfort.  I’m not the one going through it so it’s not my place to decide, and since I certainly do not know how bad he feels, I just prefer to do what I can to help him be comfortable. 

Haircuts are like tattoos and tattoos can be a bitch!