"The Talk" (September 26, 2011)

It was bound to happen sooner or later; a heart to heart talk with my son who has autism. It’s not as if I haven’t been conversing to him all along, explaining what I knew and how we were going to take care of issues as they arose. But this talk was mind boggling and would change the course of his life.
He was angry with me for expecting so much from him each morning. He had to get out of bed within twenty minutes of me asking or else. He had to make his bed, pick up his dirty clothes and get a fresh set of clean clothes including jeans, shirt, underwear and socks. And it had to happen within ten minutes of getting out of bed. He was also asked to shower, eat the breakfast I cooked for him, clean his glasses and take his meds within ten minutes of being asked.
These wouldn’t seem like difficult tasks unless someone has autism, then they can be overwhelming; especially for the parent demanding these routines to be performed each and every morning. After spending years raising a child with autism, it appears the majority of the time spent teaching him is a futile wasteland. He doesn’t seem to appreciate what I’ve done for him and he’s angry that I’m the one making him do anything all.
Yesterday, a Sunday morning, after being directed and redirected many times, we finally got out of the door to go to church, but he still forgot to shave. I brought his electric razor with us and asked him to look into the mirror on the way to church to see what he was doing and make sure he didn’t miss any facial hairs. He balked, ranted, mumbled under his breath, and then he cried. Thus it has been my morning routine since he hit puberty.
Unless someone has experienced autism firsthand there is no way to adequately explain the constant drain on your resources, namely your sanity. Being patient as I can be, I tried to reason with an unreasonable child whose mind was locked in a toddler tantrum yet his body was morphing into a man. For whatever reason, NOW seemed like a good time to have that talk.
His younger brother was in the backseat of the car listening, and pretty much ignoring the scene unfolding before him. He’s witnessed the meltdowns before and has become accustomed to them. However, this morning something was different. This morning his brother raised his voice and said I’m not stupid. And to that I replied, I’ve never thought you were stupid. In fact, I believe you to be one of the smartest people I know. And then it was quiet.
He looked over at me and said but I have autism. I agreed with him and said that most people go through life not knowing what their trial or challenge is, but that he does. I told him that he alone can decide if autism would beat him or if he would beat it. I have been fighting this battle for almost sixteen years alone and if united with me there was no telling how far he would go. He thought about it for a moment.
I went on to explain that he thinks differently than most people but that simply means he processes information in other ways. He has to learn how to get what is inside his head out where people can see what he knows. Is it hard? Absolutely, I’ve been trying to get him to do this for years. I was the one who diagnosed his autism when he was two years old. It took me a year to get the medical profession on board. I fought to get him into the autism school, and then I fought to get him into his homeschool in his school district. I fought for a one on one paraprofessional then I continued to fight each and every step of the way. I never missed an IEP meeting. In fact, I usually called them. I was his voice, his advocate, his cheerleader. I alone stood up to the schoolboard, teachers, etc. I called them into accountability and demanded that they give him a chance.
He quietly thought about what I was saying. No one said anything for a moment. Then I went on and explained that he could choose how far he would go and I would support whatever choice he decided. Autism may make it difficult to communicate, but it doesn’t mean that it cannot happen. It also does not mean that a person is stupid. It simply causes him to think differently. Most people with autism are very creative and can find their niche in life if allowed. I was pleading with my son to stop fighting me, the one who has fought for him and join me to find his place in the world.
The rest of the day went smoothly. He asked questions when he needed something, he interacted with his siblings and he did his homework without too much redirecting. He packed his snacks in his lunchbox after only one reminder. He got his clothes laid out for school. He put away his belongings. He seemed more focused and determined.
This morning, a Monday, he got out of bed easier than ever. He was ready quicker and was calm. It appears that the talk we had not quite twenty-four hours prior had an effect on him. He had chosen to be the author of his life story instead of merely a character in it. There were no tears, no repetitive directions, no arguing, cajoling, etc. They even left early for the bus.
The battle is not over; but we have reached an extremely important turning point. Acknowledging that there is a war to be waged is the first step in overcoming it. Aligning allies is another. And I am the most tenacious ally that my son can ever hope for in his lifetime, followed closely by his siblings. I’ve fought this battle long before he realized there was one to be fought, and I won’t give up until I have breathed my last breath. Autism can be mastered.