Spectrum Conundrum

“I don’t know, maybe hypnosis might work.” Isaac was suggesting ways that we can tame his little sister’s anger and tantrums. I wondered if this unique approach might work because I’ve literally got nothing. The girl has fought me since the womb and simply enjoys a good fight. Maybe hypnosis is the answer, Isaac. Maybe.

When Isaac was barely three, we weren’t sure what the future would bring. His language was limited, love for trains singular, and diet was exceptionally narrow. Autism was diagnosed and we were unprepared, shocked, and worried. From the beginning, it seemed that autism was this word that we had to say in a whisper. You know, the same way you might say the word herpes or chlamydia. I have always spoken very freely about our journey and object to this hush-hushedness. But, as Isaac is now older and has more of a say in what I share (as he should), I wonder how much openness is too much.

Being secretive about the ins, outs, ups, and downs of our lives seems to be the norm in our culture. What are we all trying to prove? As a writer, transparency in place of secrecy is key to moving dialogue forward. I don’t need people to agree with or like what I write. In fact, if everyone did I would be doing something wrong. However, at the end of the day, my decision to share is more for my children than in spite of them. I want them to feel open to the world and keeping secrets will do nothing for that goal.

Last week, Isaac asked “am I a normal kid?” There are few questions that take me aback and this was one of them. The only way I could respond was with a question in return. “Well, what is normal, Isaac?” “I don’t know,” he said. Neither do I, Isaac. Neither do I. Because, my dear, when I look at you, I often see myself and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that I just might be somewhere on the spectrum too. But, honestly, aren’t we all? Not one of us is “normal”, Isaac. That’s what makes life so very thrilling and deliciously unpredictable. Trust me, I know.

Someday soon, we plan on sharing about autism with our son. It no longer seems fair or just to keep this diagnosis a secret from the person it affects the most. Though classified as a “disability”, I have never seen it as such. Autism is more like a filter that changes up one of your drab pictures of a rainy day in March, offering you an alternate way to see beauty in the ordinary and fantasy in the mundane. I am excited to see how Isaac embraces his future. The power of self-knowledge and acceptance has done wonders for me midlife, I can only imagine what it will do for him at the age of 8. If he has already come up with hypnosis as a solution for tantrums, the possibilities are truly endless.