I’m a writer. That’s what I do. I write. Stories. Blogs. Grocery lists.

I started this blog in, what, January 2015? More than a year and a half ago now? Wow. Okay.

Anyway, I started this blog for lots of reasons, really. We were just a few months into Simon’s diagnosis and I was trying to come to terms with that. I probably still am, truth be told. I had also just had a run-in with someone in an on-line group regarding autism and I was needing to vent. I was hoping to share our story and maybe help educate people. But I what I was really needing was just to find a way to process my own feelings about what his diagnosis meant for our family. So I wrote it all down.

And you know what? It helped me. Tremendously. I pissed off a bunch of people in the beginning. I lost a few on-line and real-life friends because of how I remembered events happening and how it made me feel. Whatever. I wasn’t writing for them. I was writing for me. And it made me feel better. Putting it all out there helped to lift some of the weight off my shoulders and off my heart.

But, even though this blog is about Simon, and now George, I never really stopped to consider the effect it might have on them when they’re older. Not really. I mean, I took down the photos of Simon after reading a horrifying story about assholes stealing pictures from blogs. But that was the extent of it.

Until I read this:

Why I Decided to Stop Writing About My Children

Now I’m wondering if someday my boys might feel violated because of the things I’ve shared here. If they might be embarrassed. If they might resent me for it.

So, I’m not sure what to do right now. I’m seriously considering ending Simon Doesn’t Say. I don’t post very often these days and it’s likely to become more sporadic as I devote more of my writing time to my novel and other projects. I don’t have a big following here, unlike other parent-written autism blogs, so it’s not like leaving will create a giant void.

But, most importantly, this has to be about the boys. Maybe I should leave these stories for them to share when they are older, if they want. Maybe I shouldn’t make that decision for them. Yes, I talk a lot about MY feelings, but, ultimately, these are their stories (*cue Law & Order music*). Not mine.

Maybe it’s not my place to tell them.


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