Sensory Overload

This kind of thing always interests me. It's a simulation of sensory overload and what it might feel like to someone with ASD.

When Harrison was very little these kinds of things were very hard for him. He wouldn't meltdown, he would generally tune out. If we went on a fun family outing he would just stare straight ahead and not respond to communication.  I had an Autism bucket list of sorts when he was young. Many of the items on the list were things that were difficult for him because of the sensory processing. Going to Disney World and saying "Look! It's the castle." Enjoying himself at a Japanese Hibachi restaurant. Getting a haircut. Oh my. I could write a book about haircuts.

Something else to consider is that children with ASD often struggle with social cues and many struggle with language. Harrison falls more into the latter category. I think his whole life is like if we moved to Mexico. We could sort of figure out what people were saying but we wouldn't know exactly every word they said. Imagine how hard it would be to puzzle the language together all the time.

Then add the above sensory simulation to the mix.

10 Things You Should Know

I just ran into this video online and found it really helpful. It's always neat to hear a grown individual on the spectrum talk about what it's like for them. The point he makes about everyone with ASD being different is a very good one.

In the Same Club

I'm leaving Target. A woman looks very familiar. We are both eyeing each other. I break the silence. "You look familiar."

"Do you work at Otis?" she says.

"Nope."

"Do you have a child who has autism?"

"Yes..." I say hesitantly.

"Oh ok. That's it. We're in the same club."

Not gonna lie... being an autism mom is very lonely.

When other moms get together we compare notes. We stand around, we talk about how Child A did on the ball field, how Child B did during a recent school event, how Child C is doing on homework. I will find myself in these situations. In the hope of wanting to fit in, I will excitedly say "Harrison responded appropriately to a question last night!" The moms turn to look at me, like I am growing vines from my ears. My child's triumphs are different from others. I am not in this club.

One of the hardest things for my family is not the day to day stuff. Harrison's very mildly on the spectrum. He doesn't have meltdowns. He is affectionate. He generally communicates well though you sort of have to know what he's talking about to know what he's talking about.

That's not what keeps me up at night. I worry about him as an adult. Will he be happy? Will he graduate from college with a degree he's passionate about? Will I dance with my son at his wedding? Will I one day be a grandmother?

Will I be in the club?

I once went to an Autism Family Support Group meeting. Where I met the lady I saw at Target. I listened to heart wrenching stories about how Child A didn't potty train until age 6, Child B goes to some type of speech or physical therapy every day after school, Child C didn't say 'I love you' until four years old. I am not in this club.

Thankfully of course. But with a guilty heart. Something akin to survivor's guilt. One of my best friends says it's like being a skinny girl at a weight watchers meeting.

Tonight we went to Pet Smart. As we got out of the car Harrison jumped and screamed at the top of his lungs "I'm so excited to go to Pet Smart." Not the social norm but harmless. He's so excited about life. Beside us a woman and what I assume is her daughter got out of the car. Huge smile on her face. Pretty sure she was not neurotypical. She asked about Harrison and Ellie and hold old they were. She says they're cute. The mom hurries her inside.

Fast forward to checkout. The girl and her mom bought a bird. She talks to Harrison again. She opens her arms for a hug and Harrison happily obliges. As they are leaving the mom and I meet eyes. We are in the same club.