I grew up in a family of undiagnosed Autistic people.
My Granddad on my Dad’s side was Autistic, my Dad was Autistic, I’m Autistic, as is my son. There seems to be a definite pattern there right? The thing is though, only my Son is diagnosed, and that’s because we know so much more about Autism now than we ever have.
I spent my youth and early adulthood with only a rudimentary understanding of how people work and why they do the things that they do. I really couldn’t get to grips with society when other people had “being awesome” licked, and there was me struggling to understand the most basic of social queues.
For those of you that don’t know; Autism is a spectrum. There are extreme cases that cannot even talk, right up to people like me that can become well-integrated members of society. It may have been far more noticeable when I was a child, but back in my childhood anything that strayed from the median ‘normal’ of society was pegged as weird and outcasted. I spent a lot of time learning how to mirror other people’s actions, to appear non-threatening. I spent a lot of time at school being the outcast, therefore I learned deep coping strategies.
Then there was my Dad. He didn’t care what anyone thought of him; bullshit would spout forth from his mouth and he’d believe his own torrent of codswallop, as would others around him. Until they became wise of course.
I used to think that Dad was an extremely fierce and confident man. Yet when I reminisce with my Aunties (his sisters) of our time with him, they describe a different person. To them he was a man from a broken home, he was extremely insecure and had to use a continuous alcohol stream as a way to express himself confidently.
As I analyze, I realize we weren’t too different at all. I had problems with addiction and confidence too. It’s certainly becoming clearer now, definitely from what I’ve witnessed from my Dad and myself, and the reflections I can take from my son. Research does suggest that autistic children inherit this tendency from the paternal DNA.
My son was the one that sent me on this thought train; that I may actually have Autism, and the way I experience life may not be central to all things. My son has addictions. He’s young right now but I can already see him fostering an attachment to his technology, and if we leave it unchecked, then he would be up until11 pm watching YouTube. Then there’s the difficulty he has with integrating with his peers, which is standard with Kids with Autism, but we can see the confusion on his face as he tries to communicate with them.
He doesn’t understand his body either. I’m trying my best with teaching him what feelings are which, and this is something that I’ve only learned recently myself, so we are taking our journey together in learning.
I’ve gone all through these stages in life. I feel Alex has mirrored a lot of what I went through in the past. I may have not had YouTube but I certainly had a computer, and if left unchecked I would have been up until 1 am playing. I was also terribly bullied as a kid; other kids didn’t get me, and I didn’t get them. But my son can be himself; we make sure of it.
I feel somewhat blessed, but at the same time, I feel that I’ve missed out. I’m only recognizing my strengths now and owning them. As a kid, I was like a human being fused together faster than how he could adapt on his own. I had to learn social skills without properly understanding them. This is safe — so I’ll do it that way.
My longing to be finally understood was replaced with frantic clutching at people to be accepted within their circles; learning their ways, adapting to their needs, and defending the friend-circle like a fierce predator. I learned this quickly, and perhaps that was a blessing because as I begin to explore and understand myself and realize that I need to understand who I am before trying to figure out anyone else, I develop a deeper understanding of the world. I take my old skills honed through the years and develop my skill-set into a balance. It’s been enlightening.
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