I was scrolling through Facebook a few days ago when a new post popped up by a local photographer, Dobbins Aerial Photography, who uses a drone to share new view points of things we see so often. I always enjoy his pictures and when I saw they were snow ones, I had to look. As soon as I saw this picture, it made me think of autism. Kyle graciously allowed me to use it with this blog. (If you haven’t seen his work, you definitely need to take a look!)
The picture looks so peaceful. So beautiful. It’s a piece of art created by God. Just like our kids. Are they always peaceful? Of course not, but… it still makes me think about autism when I look at it.
The railroad track is so perfectly straight. It doesn’t change course quickly – it’s always in the same place. Just like autism. I don’t know about your families, but in ours, change is not appreciated at all. As long as I keep things the way they have always been, Casey and Rob are happier.
Luckily, in the last several years, I have been able to make small changes here and there, with lots of warnings and prompts about what is going to happen. Big, unexpected changes are not liked. While Casey used to have meltdowns about these changes (snow days were miserable for all of us – she usually screamed/cried from the time she usually left until the time she should come home, then get right into her usual after school routine), she is more accepting of them now.
I give them both as much notice as I can and hope for the best. It is getting easier and I’m so thankful for that!
I look at this picture and I see silence. Like the silence so many of us hear with our kids. They may make lots of noise, but the real conversation is so rare. Sometimes, I crave that. I would love to be able to ask them something simple, like what their favorite color is, and get an answer. Casey will always answer questions, but most of the time, she answers only so you will leave her alone. She doesn’t always listen to the question.
But, again, she’s getting better at listening. And sometimes, to be sure I have her attention, I will ask her a silly question, like is she a snowman or is she purple, to get her to really listen. But, even when she’s really listening, she may not give me the right answer. I don’t think either of them see the point in casual conversation. You say what you need or want and move on to the next thing.
I see beauty in the picture. The snow, obviously, but also just softness. It’s like autism when the person is sleeping (rare, I know!). How the stress of trying to fit into a world that isn’t ready for them leaves for a few hours. How peaceful Casey and Rob both look when they are sleeping – and how much I wish for that peacefulness every day for them.
The snow hides so many things in this picture, just like autism “hides” some pieces of our kids. How many talents are hidden away because the person can’t share what they are thinking? How many dreams are never reached for because autism prevents the person from telling us what they want to do?
How many fears do we never know about? How many times do we miss emotions because the autism hides them from us? It’s sad to think about. I know I’m always trying to uncover more of Casey and Rob and sometimes, I succeed. Other times, they aren’t interested and I respect that, too. As much as I know them, there is so much more I wish I knew. Maybe someday, I will! There’s always hope!
And when I look at this picture, I see the unbroken snow, waiting for someone to walk through and leave tracks. That’s how I feel about autism sometimes. Like I’m the first one to walk this path and I’m guessing at every step what’s best for them. I wish there was a path to follow – someone else to make decisions, at times. If I’m the one breaking the path, I’ll make mistakes. It’s just exhausting, sometimes, to feel every decision and wonder what is best.
For right now, I’m going to focus on the beauty and peacefulness of the picture. Casey is sitting near me, listening to music and giggling. Rob is happily building Christmas trees with his Legos. It’s starting to snow outside. Autism isn’t always easy, but it does have a certain beauty, at times, if you only look for it.
If you enjoyed this, please check out our book, Autism, Apples and Kool-Aid, on Amazon. I think it will make you laugh and remind you to never give up.