What You Do and Don't See With Autism

When one looks at an autistic person, what do they notice? Do they see the hand-flapping? Do they get irritated, or nervous? Do they see someone who has a sensitivity to certain noises, or someone who appears to be awkward and disconnected socially? In a few instances, I have even seen people who get angry with someone who is autistic. Indeed, I used to have many of these feelings before I was blessed with an autistic child. Let me tell you a little of my story. I’m a middle school teacher, and a widower. For the most part, I’ve raised my son alone. I used to cross the street to avoid people with disabilities. I used to be fearful, and unsure of what to say or do around someone who was autistic. Then, I spent sixteen years caring for my bed-ridden wife, and raising Michael. Let me tell you what I see with autism now.
My autistic son, Michael, has changed the way I view life, and the world. For example, I used to be a true worrier. I fretted and fussed about everything. I wanted to be in complete control all the time. Of course, this is impossible. Michael has taught me to relax and enjoy each minute I’m blessed with. When you have an autistic child, you learn that every moment is precious, especially when it is NOT perfect. I don’t try to keep my floors perfectly clean anymore. I don’t get upset if my pug, Lily, demolishes a roll of paper towels. I smile, and enjoy her innocent face as I clean it up. When Michael and I are riding in the car, I enjoy sharing a bottle of water with him, as we drive through the countryside, listening to music. Now, instead of focusing on little imperfections, I usually see the big beautiful picture.
Then, there was the time I was getting ready to take a shower, and I remembered that the clothes I needed were downstairs in the laundry basket. I decided to “brave it” and run down to the basement naked. I ran down the stairs, and just as I reached the last step, I heard Michael latch the basement door. I was locked downstairs in the buff, and the only way back upstairs was out the garage door and up the stairs, in full view of the neighbors! I heard Michael giggling upstairs as he ran around the house. “He knew he had “gotten me good!” After what seemed to be an eternity of knocking on the basement door and sternly commanding Michael to open the door, I heard the latch open. I slid through the door like a bewildered cat, and looked at my son’s huge, proud grin. I couldn’t keep myself from laughing, as I went back to the bathroom.
“Good one, buddy!” I said over my naked shoulder.
Michael has also drastically changed how I see people. I see people who fail to appreciate the warm sun, a good cup of coffee, close friendship, and a million other daily pleasures so often taken for granted. I see people who drive too fast. I see that many people don’t smile enough. (Michael smiles almost constantly.) Most of all, I see people as I used to be…fretting over trivial things, and missing the big picture.
Please don’t misunderstand. I’ve seen trials and challenges. I’ve seen difficulties, like the time my son hit his head, and complete strangers thought he was a spoiled brat who “needed to be taken in the men’s room, and taught a lesson.” I’ve seen Michael’s frustration with toilet training until the age of ten. I’ve seen tears and I’ve shed them. I’m not falsely chipper, and in denial. In fact, my eyes are wide open now thanks to my autistic son. I look at him and see courage and determination in his eyes. I see warmth and kindness, and a love I had trouble even imagining before I knew him. In short, I see a hero.