A Mother’s Vigilance. A Body’s Wisdom.

In December of 2024, my beautiful child, Asher Sky, was diagnosed with Level 1 Autism or what some call mild or high-functioning autism. The news was no surprise. I had long known he was a sensory seeker, watching closely how he moves through the world, what challenges him, and what brings him unfiltered joy. And then, of course, there was all the feedback from schooling institutions, concerns, speculations, and the ways some of Asher’s behaviors were framed as problematic or unsafe.

For those of you who are parents, you might understand the many pulls and pressures that arise, our hopes, our fears, the embodied social conditioning that whispers (sometimes screams) who our children should be, even when we tell ourselves we want them free to flourish as their whole, true selves. I felt those tensions inside me. And layered on top were the fears we carry about a world that can be so brutal, and the instinct to protect our children at all costs.

Without going too deep into all that the past year has held, especially these last few months of his first-grade experience, I can say this: becoming his number one advocate took on a shape I did not anticipate even with what I do for a living. It felt like entering a battle, one I knew well intellectually. It became all-consuming mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually. Daily calls from the principal. Understandable frustration from his teacher. The slow, painful sensation of being silently pushed out of a school and community we had been part of for two and a half years, people who I believe truly care about us, yet were constrained by systems and ingrained practices that Asher could never thrive within.

Twice denied a transfer to two separate schools with more resources and support with no clear and concise explanation as to why.  A private school reacting to a single moment rather than a full picture. Being told, once again, that he might not be “the right fit.” Sleepless nights. Tears that felt endless. Advocacy that became a full-time job. My body contracting, my system dysregulated, cycles returning after two years of post-menopause, illness, tension headaches, and the deepest layers of my inner child rebounding to the surface.

I am happy to share that it finally feels like the seas have parted, the stars have aligned, people who can see him fully and support him the way he needs have appeared and Asher is doing phenomenal.  Truthfully, throughout this whole journey, he has shown me he is resilient as fuck, and that he was never as impacted as I feared. The one unraveling was me.

On Tuesday, December 2nd, we toured what is now his new school. As we walked out, I asked what he thought. He flashed me a big thumbs-up and said, “It’s perfect.” In the days that followed, he told his papa, “It’s the right fit,” and told his play therapist, “It’s the perfect fit for me.” His body knew. His body signaled safety, belonging was felt immediately, as an autistic child he could feel and sense a vibration and energy that he communicated to me as “perfect” (Knowing for him the landscape of perfect is beyond the confines of what I know it to be).  My own body finally loosened its grip. I felt my nervous system exhale for the first time in months.  That Tuesday my body moved from vigilance into collapse, finally laying down the armor, my ready stance of fists up and fight mode.

Wednesday December 3rd I could barely move.  My body was like a lead weight, my brain was murky and I was struggling to put sentences together, to remember what time it was. Thursday December 4th was even worse.  I had to sleep a good chunk of that day while Asher was at school, until I finally realized with the support of an incredible community that I was in collapse.  A beautiful collapse at that.  Collapse became the doorway back to myself.

I didn’t fight or resist it, I allowed what needed to emerge, to be felt, to be expressed to move through me.  It was as if the ground beneath me softened, and I let myself sink. 

I sought support.

I didn’t hold any of it alone.

I leaned into recovery.

I leaned into communities of practice.

I leaned into deep somatic practices.

I got to yoga class, I slept, I cried guttural cries.

I engaged in authentic movement practice to allow the wisdom of the body to show me what it needed in therapy. 

I digested and metabolized a great deal of what I had been holding just to survive.

 I share this very personal story because it has once again shown me that when I allow myself to experience fully the impacts of life, to feel at a very deep level, to lean into collective/communal care, when I stay in integrity, when I stick with the unbearable pain, cry when I need to, sleep extra when I need to, all will become possible on the other side. 

I will be able to show up more whole within myself.

My heart stays soft and malleable. Clarity returns. Discernment sharpens. My capacity expands. And I can show up to motherhood, to my relationships, and to my community resourced rather than fragmented or fractured.

And if I was leading an organization or large team, this is the version of me they would deserve, they would be getting the best of me.

So many in this moment are facing true hardships, unbearable pain, absolute lack of safety, immense fears, uncertainty.  If you too, are holding more than any one person should I want you to know I see you, and may you find even a small place to set it down.  Trauma responses are real.  Survival mode is real.  Gripping for dear life to make it through and show up for work or for our children is real.  And it is essential for our liberation, for our well-being, that we find moments to feel, to collapse, to digest, to let the body do what it needs to do to bring us back to ourselves.

This is a pathway to freedom. This is what it means to be healing-centered. This is how we tend to one another. This is a practice of Love.

As we move into a Gregorian new year, may 2026 generate moments of care, joy, laughter, tears, breath, and rest.  May we continue to value and respect the intrinsic worth, beauty, and divinity of each and every person and our lands, as we care for and tend to our personal and collective holistic well-being.  May we honor our commitments to ourselves, our bodies, our relationships, and may we ground in our collective sense of wholeness, dignity, humanity, and purpose.  Too all I send much love and warm embraces.

I end with the words of Bayo Akomolafe “The times are urgent. Let us slow down.”