OUR JOURNEY IN CAMO SHELLY HUHTANEN

Meet Me at the Gym

Abu said, "I'll be right back."As I sat there motionless, I heard this stern voice from the office door, "Shelly, stand up." I looked over and Abu was standing there with boxing gloves.

A few weeks ago, I had triggered a memory that I had filed away for many years. I was zoning out on the couch while watching movie credits scroll across the screen. I saw the name "Abu" and thought to myself, I knew someone named Abu, years ago. I hadn't thought about him in years. In a way, I had purposefully filed many of those moments away because it had reminded me of a time when I was in fight or flight mode, while living in Kansas. Autism was new to our family. Broden was only two years old.

A friend of mine was taking Hayden to preschool for me, so I could drive Broden an hour away to receive services, because that was the closest clinic available. That time in my life was chaotic and I felt like I had been thrusted into a culture that was foreign to me and frankly, a culture I wanted no part of. In a way, I was a bundle of nerves and emotion on the inside, and I worked very hard to operate almost “robotic-like” on the outside to stay focused. I didn’t have time to process my feelings of hopelessness, panic, and fear. I worked hard to try and be present for Hayden in the evenings, after I got home from being in town with Broden. As I look back, I failed miserably My focus seemed to be wrapping my mind around this bazaar diagnosis of autism that had been dropped on us like an atomic bomb.

A few weeks into my routine of shlepping Broden downtown and sending Hayden off with Mark to our friend's house in the morning, I decided to join a gym in the local area. During the day, I was mostly journaling at a local coffee shop, researching autism, or sleeping in the back of my car while Broden was receiving therapy. I would nap in my car because I wasn't sleeping very well at night. I usually woke up in the morning to a book about autism on the floor that had slipped off my bed, from me eventually passing out from

exhaustion. One day, I remember looking in my review mirror and noticing my alarm clock and blanket in the back, "Surely, there's a more productive way I could spend my day."

I walked into the gym closest to Broden's ABA clinic and signed up for a membership. They asked me if I wanted to see a personal trainer to help me get started. I chuckled inside as I stood there in a frumpy sweatsuit with half of my hair falling out of a ponytail holder that I had thrown in my hair minutes before putting my son in the car that morning. The person at the front desk helping me fill out the membership paperwork could tell that I was not taking the bait, "Look, just take a few sessions to learn the machines. After that, you'll know the gym and then you can do your thing." I was in a vulnerable state, and I took the bait. I agreed to take a few sessions with a personal trainer.

I remember walking into the gym to meet my trainer for the first time, "Hi! My name is Abu and I'm going to be with you for a few weeks." I remember my mouth opening and my gum falling out of my mouth. He was from another planet. I was convinced his body had never ingested a Big Mac or a Dr. Pepper… ever. I slowly followed him into a sitting area so we could talk and figure out where to start. As we walked over, I looked in the mirror. He had his work cut out for him. Once I turned away from the mirror and looked at him, he asked, "Shelly, why are you here?" I

don't know if it was the question he asked or how he asked it, but I started to cry. I began by telling him what my family had experienced for the last three months involving Broden's diagnosis, and having to leave Hayden with friends so I could drive an hour away for Broden's therapy. Abu didn't flinch. He just listened and calmly said, "I see. I'm glad you're here and I'm going to give you some ways to work through what you're feeling. I can tell you're going through a lot right now. Let's get started."

HEAVY HITTER: "I stopped punching and looked around. There were about four men standing there staring at me. As we walked away, I asked Abu, 'Why are they looking at me?' He smirked, 'You were beating the crap out of this bag.'"