There are moments in the journey of parenting a child with autism that push you to the edge—moments of exhaustion, burnout, and silence. After more than ten years of riding the highs and lows of Tatum’s emotional storms, there came a day when I couldn’t respond anymore. No words. No gestures. No energy left.

Tatum, who has always known me as cheerful and expressive, noticed immediately. He doesn’t like it when I shut down. Usually, he reminds me to be my “normal self,” to be happy again. But this time, he said something different. He looked at me and said:

“Don’t just smile for the camera, smile for me.”

That line pierced through the silence. It was his way of pulling me back, of reminding me that my joy is his anchor. In that moment, I felt it so deeply: I am Tatum, and Tatum is me. When I’m happy, my son is happy.