Something For The Kids

There's many things neurotypicals say to me regarding my autism. Many of these things turn into articles for this blog. One of the most common ones is some variation of, "Why don't you work with autistic kids?" I can understand the sentiment. After all, I know what these kids are going through from the inside and I understand the very real practical concerns that an autistic child might face in the future. However, these seeming advantages would rapidly reveal themselves to be the disadvantages I know them to be. Some things about autism are not well understood by the professionals that work with kids on the spectrum, and that is to their benefit. Even with the rare professional who does understand these things, which I will discuss shortly, knows how to compartmentalize them and, above all, keep their mouth shut about them. Total honesty is a social liability, not an asset, and being totally honest with autistic kids is where I would fail.

Low-functioning types aren't who I have in mind here. Their parents and professionals working with them already know they're damned and have probably tried to explain that to them as best as native ability to comprehend such information allows. For high-functioning ones, however, you have shades of grey. So what do parents and professionals tell those kids? Well, they probably tell them that if they work hard in therapy to develop coping mechanisms and develop as many skills as possible, they'll be fine. The problem is that might not be fine because sometimes they're not going to be fine. My mistake would be in letting them know that. I could not stop myself from telling them how hard their life may well be even in the event they manage to make friends, have a job, and a romantic life. Sure, I'd tell them they're lucky to be born now, when so much promising research into cures, or at least treatments, is ongoing and that improving their functionality is possible to a degree, but I would not sugarcoat anything.

What is so hard for any neurotypical to understand is the sense of isolation that autistics feel. From my earliest memory, I knew I felt apart from the rest of humanity, although I could not articulate, or even name, why for the longest time. That profound loneliness is the most wearying part of autism. Even in your moments of greatest comfort and joy, however functional you've managed to be, it eats at you relentlessly, mercilessly, and painfully. What most autistic kids, especially the undiagnosed, do not know is that there is no escape from this feeling. There's not a phase you can grow out of, not a class you can take, not a medication you can be prescribed, and not a therapy you can undergo to overcome that feeling. As the years go by, you will live with it as a burden you must carry alone and it will wear on you as mileage wears on car. So that's what professionals who work with autistic kids don't know that I can't help but know. They cannot know how hard this journey is and that is what allows them to sugarcoat things, give sincerely offered hope, and present white lies where they would do better than the truth.

-Frank