“He is able to point. “He is able to make eye contact. “He’s not having a crisis at daycare, the problem is at home. “He has no language delay. “He plays with other children. “He’s charming and so smart. “It’s normal to have a ritual before going to sleep.” These sentences are all reasons that health and education professionals have given me to question my son’s autism diagnosis. But my son is not a telephone pole.
My son is a living being, with his own personality and skills. Stop telling me “but an autistic would have done X”. Or “usually, an autistic person does not do Y” or “other children also do Z”. We cannot stop at static and defined characteristics as we can for a telephone pole when describing an autistic person. Autism is a spectrum, with as much diversity and nuance as can be found in living trees.
An autistic person has emotions and can have facial expressions. An autistic person can become disorganized more easily in one context and contain themselves in another. An autistic person can take an interest in others, develop bonds and friendships. An autistic person may experience more stable periods and others, more tumultuous. It is not for nothing that many people with autism are only diagnosed late, in adolescence or even in adulthood. For many autistic people, their disability is invisible, but invisible does not mean non-existent.
My son tries to relate to other children, but he does so awkwardly. He likes to play with his cousins, but shows little openness to their ideas. He comforts his brother when he’s sad, but it’s not intuitive, he does it in a ‘stuck’ way, since he’s been shown it. He can hold a conversation and demonstrate reciprocity, but the subject he seeks to control. He finds it difficult to decode if the interlocutor is interested and therefore does not tend to adapt.
He can adapt to the unexpected, but only when he is willing and given time to digest it. He can make symbolic games, but these are limited and not very diversified. He can make eye contact, but his gaze is shifty. He can make jokes, but tends to repeat them, even when they are no longer funny.
Like the other children, he has fits, but his are more frequent and intense. Like other children, he likes structure and routine, but unlike the others, he cannot do without it at the risk of exploding. Like other children, there are textures, sounds and sensations that disturb him, but in his case, he becomes paralyzed and disorganized, to the point where he is no longer functional.
Like the other children, he likes to see his grandparents, but he rarely goes to cuddle them, he prefers to explain his game or his favorite book to them with a dizzying level of detail. Like the other children, he empties his overflow when he arrives from school, but his fragility lasts all evening.
My son is not a telephone pole who, regardless of the season, the hour, the time of day and the passing years, is immutable, static and predictable. My son is like a tree. It adapts to its environment, it grows and changes over time. He composes with the vagaries that nature wanted to give him and manages to shine, but that does not mean that he does not have difficulties.
Sensitivity is what I wish for all people and loved ones of people living on the autism spectrum. Sensitivity to nuances and individuality. Professionals who take the time to listen, weigh and consider, because there is nothing worse than feeling misunderstood. There’s nothing worse than being stereotyped and swept away. My son is not a telephone pole.