I do believe that life is probably very frightening for people on the autism spectrum, especially for those who have limited verbal skills and are therefore unable to convey their feelings. Not able to make sense of the seemingly nonsensical Earthling world, they spend their lives just trying to calm themselves down.
All of us, if we think about it, have had experiences akin to that. A few years back I visited my brother in San Francisco. I found some of their "things" puzzling - an insistence that winter means heavy and cold rain but no snow (coming from New England that's not winter but rather our fifth season or as we like to call it - "transitioning to spring"), cancelling plans due to heavy cold rain, calling highways "freeways," and their extreme fondness for anything sour dough. I was particularly confused by their sour dough pancakes for many reasons - taste being just one of them. I'm not saying this to slag on West Coast Earthlings. I also visited my brother in North Carolina and was puzzled by their attachment to places called "Waffle Houses." And yes, I will admit that here in New England we have our own "oddities" such as an affinity for giving directions that always include Dunkin' Donuts as landmarks - "You're gonna go Route 28 for about a mile. Take a right at Dunkin's but make sure you go right at the second Dunkin's. Don't go right at the first or you'll end up God knows where." I point these things out only to show that we've all been places where we've wondered, "What the hell is this about?" which is probably how people like the R.A. feel most of the time. If you've ever seen photos of my son that's actually his expression in about 97.9% of the pictures.
I'm saying we need to use these experiences to help us when we're dealing with our loved ones on the spectrum. Maybe it will make us more compassionate and dispel some impatience or frustration (or high rising panic - see "Ketchup Part Trois.") Of course, now that I've informally started this experiment, whenever the R.A. is "having a moment" for some reason I get a vinegary taste in my mouth. I've just realized I'm channeling sour dough pancakes. Yuck! It's happening right now!
If you can't recall your own WTH moment, I have some suggestions of situations/places that elicit feelings of sensory overload, confusion, panic, and frustration:
1. The RMV on the last day of the month where you and 238 other people who also forgot to renew their licenses that month are trapped. You are also stuck sitting next to a very large and very irate tattooed woman who is having a loud melt down via cell phone because she lost her teeth and her wedding is tomorrow and she's not sure if she knows anybody who can lend her some. Nobody understands that she is the bride and it is her day! And no, you can't move. There aren't any other chairs.
2. Chuck E. Cheese during three simultaneous birthday parties during a long holiday weekend complete with torrential rain (perhaps in San Francisco?) while some sort of highly anticipated play off game is happening (maybe not San Francisco?). One party is for a screeching infant. Unfortunately that's the one you're at. The party ends with said infant becoming so upset that he projectile vomits.
3. Any IEP meeting (Oh no she dinn't!)
The earth-bound adventures of a reluctant alien astronaut and his not overly bright human caretakers.
So what is it like having a child with autism?
So, what is it like having a child with autism?
I get this question a lot and actually like it when people ask. Unless a person has significant contact with someone on the spectrum he/she doesn't really understand what an autism driven world is about. Saying that, it isn't always easy to convey what having a child with autism is like. After much consideration, this is what I've come up with -
For me, having a child with autism is like living with an alien from another planet. I call him the "reluctant astronaut (R.A.)" because he really didn't want to come to earth, had absolutely no interest in this space mission. As a result, he didn't pay much attention at the briefings prior to the mission so doesn't know anything about Planet Earth - nothing about language, customs, or Earthling niceties in general. In fact, he is so disinterested in Earth that even though he was sent here, he has absolutely no desire to assimilate into Earth society. Meaning he still doesn't give a rat's ass about Earth mores.
That's also how I "explain" things he does that are pretty much unfathomable to me. For example - for a certain time period he liked to sit in the toilet. No, not on the toilet but in the toilet. I reasoned that on the home planet the toilet is a jacuzzi. Although eventually we managed to break him of this habit, the jacuzzi explanation popped again during potty training when the R.A. demonstrated not only an aversion to the toilet but would have all out nuttys when placed on one. He was probably thinking, "Poop in the jacuzzi? What is wrong with you people? Miscreants!" That's what he would say if he could speak English or any Earthing dialect.
For a time I was also convinced that not only was he a reluctant astronaut but was actually an alien cat that somehow ended up in a human body. It does make sense -
Cat
Has to everything his way
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Don't touch me!
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't speak human language
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't wear clothes
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto (Well, would if he had his way)
Of course I don't really believe my son to be a Reluctant Astronaut.
But sometimes it sure makes sense!
Disclaimer: Although I sometimes describe things about life with my R.A. in a humorous way, please understand that I am not laughing at him. He is my son and I love him very very much. I come from a family that had its share of challenges and I learned from a young age that laughter is powerful. A situation cannot completely hurt you if you are able to find humor and laugh at some parts of it. So that's what I do. And I don't use humor solely with the R.A. My daughter was born with a heart condition that required immediate surgery. (No, I don't make good babies. They come out broken.) She was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital in Boston. It was all unexpected and traumatic. A nice young intern came to speak with my husband and me and was re-assuring us that nothing we had done caused the baby's condition. The stress and sorrow were overwhelming. When the nice young intern concluded I turned to my husband and said, "See, I told you it wasn't from all that smack I did during my pregnancy." The intern froze and then let out this huge belly laugh. Was I appropriate? Probably not. But I had to do something to relieve the stress. Astronaut life is stressful so find the laughter where you can.
And as G.K. Chesterton said, "Humor can get through the keyhole when seriousness is still hammering at the door."
I get this question a lot and actually like it when people ask. Unless a person has significant contact with someone on the spectrum he/she doesn't really understand what an autism driven world is about. Saying that, it isn't always easy to convey what having a child with autism is like. After much consideration, this is what I've come up with -
For me, having a child with autism is like living with an alien from another planet. I call him the "reluctant astronaut (R.A.)" because he really didn't want to come to earth, had absolutely no interest in this space mission. As a result, he didn't pay much attention at the briefings prior to the mission so doesn't know anything about Planet Earth - nothing about language, customs, or Earthling niceties in general. In fact, he is so disinterested in Earth that even though he was sent here, he has absolutely no desire to assimilate into Earth society. Meaning he still doesn't give a rat's ass about Earth mores.
That's also how I "explain" things he does that are pretty much unfathomable to me. For example - for a certain time period he liked to sit in the toilet. No, not on the toilet but in the toilet. I reasoned that on the home planet the toilet is a jacuzzi. Although eventually we managed to break him of this habit, the jacuzzi explanation popped again during potty training when the R.A. demonstrated not only an aversion to the toilet but would have all out nuttys when placed on one. He was probably thinking, "Poop in the jacuzzi? What is wrong with you people? Miscreants!" That's what he would say if he could speak English or any Earthing dialect.
For a time I was also convinced that not only was he a reluctant astronaut but was actually an alien cat that somehow ended up in a human body. It does make sense -
Cat
Has to everything his way
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Don't touch me!
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't speak human language
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto
Cat
Doesn't wear clothes
Reluctant Astronaut
Ditto (Well, would if he had his way)
Of course I don't really believe my son to be a Reluctant Astronaut.
But sometimes it sure makes sense!
Disclaimer: Although I sometimes describe things about life with my R.A. in a humorous way, please understand that I am not laughing at him. He is my son and I love him very very much. I come from a family that had its share of challenges and I learned from a young age that laughter is powerful. A situation cannot completely hurt you if you are able to find humor and laugh at some parts of it. So that's what I do. And I don't use humor solely with the R.A. My daughter was born with a heart condition that required immediate surgery. (No, I don't make good babies. They come out broken.) She was whisked away by ambulance to the hospital in Boston. It was all unexpected and traumatic. A nice young intern came to speak with my husband and me and was re-assuring us that nothing we had done caused the baby's condition. The stress and sorrow were overwhelming. When the nice young intern concluded I turned to my husband and said, "See, I told you it wasn't from all that smack I did during my pregnancy." The intern froze and then let out this huge belly laugh. Was I appropriate? Probably not. But I had to do something to relieve the stress. Astronaut life is stressful so find the laughter where you can.
And as G.K. Chesterton said, "Humor can get through the keyhole when seriousness is still hammering at the door."
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