Stand-By-Me-stand-by-me-12132706-800-527Image from Stand by Me

I did something today that I wish someone had once done for me. I stood up to a bunch of bullies.

Yes, they were just a bunch of kids. Jonah’s friends, ostensibly. But they were attacking my son. Oh, yes, I gave them what for. Threatened to tell their mothers, the teacher, the police. I really yelled. It’s been a long time coming.

I’ve pussyfooted around it for far too long, talked to the teachers, played nice, invited them round for tea, told Jonah to walk away, or to tell an adult. He never really complains about it, but the bruises have been getting more frequent. I suspect there’s an element of six of one, which is why he often won’t talk about it, but actually, Jonah’s not mean, just probably a bit annoying.

This time they were going at him with sticks in the bushes outside the park where I was watching Ava with one of their mums. She’d caught one of the boys throwing stones at Jonah earlier, and I’d already had a word with the culprit. The time before, he’d left nail marks in Jonah’s wrists. The week before that, the same lad, who we’ve known for years, raised merry hell at a BBQ we had for Tom’s birthday, all the boys from Jonah’s class playing shoot ’em up with the Nerf guns and running rampage round the house. I thought we’d broken ground, but clearly I was wrong.

It’s a relief doing SOMETHING. Standing by and watching him get mullered from afar is dredging up memories of my own schooldays, isolated, picked on, not really knowing how to defend myself except by telling the teacher, and when that didn’t work, withdrawing into myself, or acting out for attention. I see Jonah going into himself more and more, when he’s not acting out. I can stand by no longer.

We had an appointment with a clinical psychologist today, ostensibly to access help for Jonah’s angry meltdowns but also to help him find his way out of situations like this. After tooing and froing, with questions asked about his sleep, diet, triggers and how I respond to him – to see where we might be going wrong, as much as getting to the bottom if it, I plead, “I try my best to manage him really well as far as life allows. I just want to step in before we get a kick of testosterone. I know how this can end up if we do nothing, so I want to try prevention rather than cure.” The psychologist put him on the waiting list for Cognitive Behavioral Therapy.

It felt like a step in the right direction, although, it places the onus very much on my aspie son, rather than society, to change. But Jonah, skipped out of the appointment having squirmed his way through it, seeming lighter now there was a plan in place.

Andthe psychologist offered me a chink of light too. After years wondering about myself, she offered to screen me for an ASD diagnosis, for all the good it will do me now, except that it might protect me in the future from suffering at the hands of a corporate bullies who pick on the vulnerable  and those who speak out against unfairness, regardless of their work ethic, as has been my recent experience. So for that, it may be worth it, one day.

The fact is, it can be hard to stand up to a bully when it’s much bigger than you are, or, like Jonah, when there’s six or seven of them at once. Sometimes, it takes an advocate to make a difference on your behalf.

And I’m signing Jonah up for martial arts. I just hope all my efforts will help, and not harm him further. Because, in the end, we are all just left battling with ourselves.


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