“Mom, if I was born into another family, I think I would be in the orphanage. Eyes misty, I hug my 13-year-old autistic teenager tenderly. I simply reply “I love you; I am the “.
I feel like answering her: “Possibly you would be in a foster family, a residence or a home… Not because I am a better mother than the others, but because you have the “chance” to having an occupational therapist mother, who, long before you were born, was passionate about helping kids like you. To help us, I have the privilege of having the knowledge to navigate this complex universe of neurodevelopmental disorders. Despite these benefits, I still have trouble keeping my head above water. »
My boy’s challenges mostly manifest as behaviors that fall short of expected social norms. With his great intellectual abilities, he looks “normal”, but his brain works differently. Behavioral difficulties attract little empathy. While we would need collective support to get through our ordeal, we face more hasty and hurtful judgments.
We have lived and we will live moments of great vulnerability. The most recent is a painful feeling of social exclusion by the expulsion of my son from his neighborhood secondary school that he loved so much. His social deficits, which were always named and explained, for which we had agreed that support would be provided by the adults around him, were brutally denounced in gestures of intimidation. While we work tirelessly, from a very young age, to develop his social skills according to the expectations of his environment, we are suddenly classified in the clan of “bad bullies”.
Of course, I am not insensitive to young people affected by my child’s behavior. I am well placed to observe that he is not an “angel”. I am also one of those who encourage actions to remedy situations of bullying. On the other hand, I become particularly concerned by hasty analyzes with little nuance of “bullied” and “bully” leading to situations of social exclusion rather than seeing in them opportunities to teach our youth to “live together “.
When my youngest feels like a victim of his big brother’s behaviors, I teach him the options for learning to “live together”: express his discomfort verbally, assert himself firmly, ignore, model the desired behaviors or ask for the support of others. an adult to intervene. Often, I take the opportunity to teach him gratitude. I show him how to thank life for having everything he has and for giving back by helping others, since one day or another, he will also need others. Beyond individual successes, I make him aware of other potential sources of happiness through altruism, solidarity and empathy. The option of excluding his brother from our family is not humanly possible.
On our life journey, I meet exceptional people who generously make gestures of mutual aid towards my child and our family. Whether it’s a neighbour, a hairdresser, a friend, a leisure activity leader or a teacher, I call them “our stars”. They choose to set aside their prejudices and guide my boy to become a successful future citizen who will contribute to our society. They understand, consciously or not, that despite my strong will as a loving mother, I cannot do it alone. It is by being with others that my child gradually appropriates the expected social norms while being able to demonstrate his many, sometimes hidden, strengths.
With simple gestures, each person can become a “star” to change things and thus contribute to the collective project of developing the full potential of our youth. A project that requires an understanding of the challenges associated with neuro-developmental conditions, an openness to rub shoulders with difference and mutual learning to adapt as best we can. Instead of hearing that “my son bullies yours”, my deepest wish would be to affirm “my son learned with yours”.