It’s 3:25 a.m. Obviously, I’m awake. Jet lag. Adrian and I are on vacation in Turkey (far from Ankara, where the horrific suicide bombings occurred Saturday), celebrating our anniversary. Martin is home with my parents.

As I lie awake, my mind wanders to this question: What will I do with myself when Martin is recovered enough to be close to typical? This autism journey has consumed my life. What will be my next act?

These types thoughts tend to happen on vacation, when for a change I’m seeing the forest, not focused on the trees like dinner tonight, ordering supplements, planning travel to doctors, trying to keep current on science. Twelve months ago, in a post started on vacation in Germany, then finished back home, I wrote about finding the “me” in Martin’s recovery, about trying to have some life of my own. I have been improving at that, writing more (non-blog) and working 20 hours per week. Still, bio-med life feels like a treadmill. Pauses are rarely allowed.

I don’t know what my next act will be.

But I’m looking forward to it.

Istanbul. This scenery, giving me pause.

Istanbul. This scenery, giving me pause.

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