Autistic and Healthy

The very thing that makes us the most human is what makes autism so difficult. Uniqueness, individuality, distinctness, eccentricity, whatever you want to call it, it makes autism, not just difficult, but impossible to truly generalize. That uniqueness of humanity is what drives me to reach out farther, because it is what is so isolating about having a child with autism. You can’t sit down at the park and talk to the Mom sitting next to you with a child about the same age and share Mom stuff—it just doesn’t work and in fact would probably make you feel even more isolated and alone. Likewise, when you have several children with autism, people conclude that you are one of several things; crazy, a horrible Mother, or genetically challenged. They don’t even want to sit by you because they are afraid that whatever it is that you have in your family might be contagious. It is human nature to fear what you don’t understand. Sometimes, I admit, I do fear my son. You never know when the autism pot will boil over. You know the signs, but then even sometimes you blink and he’s melting. Autism goes beyond our humanness in a way, it is chaos added on top of uniqueness. In my house, it is even more crazy than that. For years I coped by just shutting down and moving on. That really didn’t do anyone any good, especially me. You can’t live by ignoring your spouse. I know, I tried. My spouse is autistic, most definitely Asperger’s with lots of other issues thrown in from years of never being treated. He has never gone to a school conference, we don’t have any couple friends to spend time with, he doesn’t believe in God, is socially inappropriate, and is terribly unaware of himself. He has been to one Doctor’s appointment, but that was in the last year because I am stronger now and I demanded it. He doesn’t celebrate anniversaries, birthdays, holidays. There are years the kids don’t see him on their birthday, and I can’t remember when he has bought a Christmas gift. He has never had a friend. Even when his family comes over, he doesn’t always engage with them. Trying to explain emotions to him, trying to explain his lack of a typical connection to people, trying to explain his hording, trying to explain his control issues, are not even worth my time. He has absolutely no concept of what I am talking about. For example, when my son lied to him about finishing his homework last weekend, I knew he was lying instantly. I stepped into the conversation after my husband accepted by son’s lie and made him do his homework. When my husband asked how I knew Will was lying, (it wasn’t really a technical lie, my husband asks my literal son open ended question), and I responded by his body language. There was no way I was going to be able to articulate body language to him, it was clear instantly. For years I thought I was just insane, because I couldn’t talk to my husband, he had these strange rituals and he was always angry with me. Then, my son was diagnosed and when that haze cleared, I understood my husband. I couldn’t deal with it for many years, and just buried by head in the sand. But you grow stronger, lots stronger than you ever imagined. And your faith grows even more. My husband loves his children deeply, but they will never be the kind of friends that I dreamed my children would be with their Dad. My Dad was as on the autism spectrum, and I have been jealous in my later years of the relationships my friends have developed with their fathers. I wanted my kids to have that relationship. I have changed lately and realized that we are all different, God made us all very unique and I cannot judge or wish for others what I longed for in my own heart, because they may not need it in their life. They have a Dad and their relationship with him may not be the emotion laced one of novels, but he is in their life to the best of his ability. And I have an amazing group of friends, who accept my husband, and let me into their lives when I need what I can’t get from my husband in my marriage. My friends have listened to my rants about therapy, diet, school, and offered advice like I would have hoped I would have had from my spouse. I accept. God has given me the gift of my life. Being alone as the parent of autistic children, is even more isolating when you don’t have a partner to parent with. My kids understand. The very thing that makes us the most human is what makes autism so difficult. Uniqueness, individuality, distinctness, eccentricity, whatever you want to call it, it makes autism, not just difficult, but impossible to truly generalize. That uniqueness of humanity is what drives me to reach out farther, because it is what is so isolating about having a child with autism. You can’t sit down at the park and talk to the Mom sitting next to you with a child about the same age and share Mom stuff—it just doesn’t work and in fact would probably make you feel even more isolated and alone. Likewise, when you have several children with autism, people conclude that you are one of several things; crazy, a horrible Mother, or genetically challenged. They don’t even want to sit by you because they are afraid that whatever it is that you have in your family might be contagious. It is human nature to fear what you don’t understand. Sometimes, I admit, I do fear my son. You never know when the autism pot will boil over. You know the signs, but then even sometimes you blink and he’s melting. Autism goes beyond our humanness in a way, it is chaos added on top of uniqueness. In my house, it is even more crazy than that. For years I coped by just shutting down and moving on. That really didn’t do anyone any good, especially me. You can’t live by ignoring your spouse. I know, I tried. My spouse is autistic, most definitely Asperger’s with lots of other issues thrown in from years of never being treated. He has never gone to a school conference, we don’t have any couple friends to spend time with, he doesn’t believe in God, is socially inappropriate, and is terribly unaware of himself. He has been to one Doctor’s appointment, but that was in the last year because I am stronger now and I demanded it. He doesn’t celebrate anniversaries, birthdays, holidays. There are years the kids don’t see him on their birthday, and I can’t remember when he has bought a Christmas gift. He has never had a friend. Even when his family comes over, he doesn’t always engage with them. Trying to explain emotions to him, trying to explain his lack of a typical connection to people, trying to explain his hording, trying to explain his control issues, are not even worth my time. He has absolutely no concept of what I am talking about. For example, when my son lied to him about finishing his homework last weekend, I knew he was lying instantly. I stepped into the conversation after my husband accepted by son’s lie and made him do his homework. When my husband asked how I knew Will was lying, (it wasn’t really a technical lie, my husband asks my literal son open ended question), and I responded by his body language. There was no way I was going to be able to articulate body language to him, it was clear instantly. For years I thought I was just insane, because I couldn’t talk to my husband, he had these strange rituals and he was always angry with me. Then, my son was diagnosed and when that haze cleared, I understood my husband. I couldn’t deal with it for many years, and just buried by head in the sand. But you grow stronger, lots stronger than you ever imagined. And your faith grows even more. My husband loves his children deeply, but they will never be the kind of friends that I dreamed my children would be with their Dad. My Dad was as on the autism spectrum, and I have been jealous in my later years of the relationships my friends have developed with their fathers. I wanted my kids to have that relationship. I have changed lately and realized that we are all different, God made us all very unique and I cannot judge or wish for others what I longed for in my own heart, because they may not need it in their life. They have a Dad and their relationship with him may not be the emotion laced one of novels, but he is in their life to the best of his ability. And I have an amazing group of friends, who accept my husband, and let me into their lives when I need what I can’t get from my husband in my marriage. My friends have listened to my rants about therapy, diet, school, and offered advice like I would have hoped I would have had from my spouse. I accept. God has given me the gift of my life. Being alone as the parent of autistic children, is even more isolating when you don’t have a partner to parent with. My kids understand. Strnagely enough, my autistic son, recognizes his father’s behavior as similar to his. My kids know from an early age that their Dad isn’t like other Dads. They know our marriage isn’t like other marriages. They accept both of us as unique. They accept differences. I wish I could say that about more of our society. –Ann