We've had a few people ask, "Why would you take a 6-year-old girl Elk hunting?"
The truth is, because I want her to know she can.
My daughter craves adventure. I love that about her, and I want to stoke that fire in her soul. So when she asked to come hunting, saying "No" didn't cross my mind.
See, we tell little girls that they can be whatever they want to be.
Hairstylist? Get it, girl!
Scientist? More power to ya!
CEO? Put those boss skills to work, chica!
The trails have been blazed, and little girls know they can do it all because they've watched the women before them do it.
The thing about being an outdoorsman though is that it teaches little girls (and everyone for that matter) not just that you CAN be self-sufficient, but that you are CAPABLE of being self-sufficient.
By camping and waking up before sunrise, she's learning that some things are worth showing up for.
By going on challenging hikes, she's learning that sometimes hard work is the only way to get what you want.
By standing up everytime she falls, she's learning about perseverance.
By taking a little nap on a hillside, she's learning that it's ok to rest.
By lifting each other up and enjoying our family time, she is learning we will always be here and we are always proud of her efforts.
By harvesting a bull, she learned exactly where our meat comes from.
By helping us process and package that meat, she learned how we feed our family and why we don't waste food.
Most important of all, she learned that life is tough, but so is she.
This is the part I haven't figured out yet. Friends, I can spin beautiful words on a page about all the amazing things that autism has brought to our lives. I can give you a glimpse into how we have overcome the day to day issues. But I don't know how to do this. I don't know what to do as I watch my child sink it sickness, utterly clueless about what's wrong. I see the way he holds his eyes differently. I watch as his words quickly slip from vaguely being able to tell me something is wrong with his stomach, to no words at all and just groans of severe discomfort. He swaddles himself in a blanket and stares blankly at the wall. He is spending all his energy on whatever is going on inside him, and there is nothing left to even ask for one of his favorite toys. My mom-gut sounds an alarm that this is a different kind of not communicating. This is a different kind of tired. There is something really wrong. And with that comes anxiety that I think only special needs
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