Fries with Trust, or Trust with Fries

I read a beautiful post today about trust. It was written by a mom, about her father and her daughter and how over time they have developed a trust where even though the little girl is autistic and dislikes being touched, they can share an embrace. She explained how when we love someone so much that we can hardly breathe because we just want to hold them, sometimes the best way to show that love is to restrain ourselves until we can develop the trust that is needed. Like I said, it was beautiful.

Jake and I struggle with trust. When he was younger, when I didn’t know about autism and what he actually needed, I pushed him too hard. I tried to get him to try new things, even when it became clear that he really didn’t want to. I tried to get him to be adventurous, to take a risk, to jump into a pool, for example, when he really, really didn’t want to. I am sorry now. I am working so hard to earn his trust.

Most of the time I can see that he does trust me. He loves to be held and snuggled by me, so long as I respect the “not too tight” rule. He loves to look into my eyes, and I love to look into his, as long as I wait for his initiation and am not also trying to talk to him. But then something comes up that I don’t understand. And I struggle.

Today it was French fries. Jake loves fries. Loves McDonalds fries, Arby’s fries, restaurant fries, homemade fries. He loves straight fries, crinkle cut fries, and yam fries. He loves fries with the skin on and fries with no skin. He loves those tasty taters that are essentially balls of fries. So his sweetheart of a grandma made him some very special alphabet fries. They were gluten free, casein free, totally healthy and totally fun. We spelled his name. But nope, he would not eat those fries.

I didn’t get it. And I didn’t let it go. He was being rude, refusing to eat them. He said his tummy was full. And then he asked me for a Popsicle. Not going to happen, buddy. We took the fries home, telling him that he would eat those fries before he was allowed to have anything for a bedtime snack, he would eat those fries for breakfast if he had to.

So there we are, ready for bed, and he’s crying about the stupid French fries. And I finally asked, “Jake, what is wrong with these fries?”

Well. They were too curly and strange. He was worried that they would make his stomach curl and be sick. They were not the right shape for food to be.

That’s when I clued in. This is not about food. This is about autism.

He is autistic. He can’t eat strange fries. They have to fit into the idea of fries that he has, that he knows. Strange things are scary. Strange things are unknowns and that is scary. I am scaring him. He doesn’t trust this food and he is scared and crying because he thinks I want him to eat something wrong.

Breathe, mama.

So, we calmed down, and talked about fries and how they are made, and how I ate them and they were good. Then we broke them into straight pieces that resembled what fries should look like and he ate them without difficulty. Except for the S and the R. They were just too curly. And that’s okay with me.

I am going to get it. I am going to earn his trust. I just have to trust him. I have to ask him and I have to listen to him. It goes both ways. It’s a hard lesson for me. But I can see the payoff.

Jake received this Lego set for his birthday and his loving aunt spent ages building it with him.
Jake received this Lego set for his birthday and his loving aunt spent ages building it with him.  Building trust. right!

Stories of trust earned by learning how to really love each other and show that love through restraint and patience inspire me. I want to respect Jake and what he is experiencing. I want him to trust me so that he can stretch and become more flexible, because he trusts me, not because he is forced into it.

I will need to breathe more.

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