My son, Tosh, is 8 years old and has severe, nonverbal autism. Together, we're a happy little family that gets plenty of sleep, enjoys going to the movies, out to restaurants and on vacations, and loves life exactly the way that it is.
But it wasn't always this way. I used to be isolated, depressed and resentful. Tosh wasn't making any academic or behavioral progress, and as he grew older and bigger, I was terrified about the future.
One morning, after school drop off, I found myself mixing a screwdriver just so I could begin work and make it through the day. I realized this had become a daily habit. Something had to give.