The Tao of Autism

It has been a few weeks since I posted anything. I have missed it. I don't really know who is reading this (apart from my sweet friends that I force feed my blog upon), but it looks like quite a few of you are checking it out. So...thanks! I know there are a lot of bloggers who are much more proficient at writing than I am, so I am honored that anyone would take time out to read it. I would probably put my 'writing' in air quotes. But, if you do enjoy my blog at all, more than likely it is not because you are an English professor.

I was thinking about all of these years of dealing with autism and the various ways I have managed it. Because that is all we can do. There is no cure- it is all management. And, unfortunately, for both me and Liam, management is not my strong suit. Sometimes, though, I think if I were any more rigid, Liam would begin to expect rigidity all the time. And, let's be honest, most of life is not very rigid. Much of it is out of our control-people, circumstances, whether a football team wins or loses- all of those pesky little things we would love to control, but sadly cannot. 

And, speaking of football teams winning or losing, Liam does not sit well with that little abstract concept. Sure, you might say, "oh my son comes home and cries if his baseball team loses," or, "my husband is in a bad mood if his favorite team loses a game." I would simply look at you and smile and say, well, that's probably a normal reaction to a very common issue. Take your son's crying episode, your husband's bad mood, and go ahead and add an element of nuclear explosion to that mix and that would give a slight hint at what happens when my son's teams lose a game. 

This started very early on in his life. If someone won the Thomas the train race or a quick pick up game of UNO-Beware! This seems to be a fairly common trait in autistic children, and I am not really sure why. My theory is that it stems from the fact that with autism there is not a ton of empathy (scratch that, none!). These kids simply cannot see outside of their needs, wants or desires. Much like a toddler (or teenager) that never fully grows out of it. 

So, if their desire is for their team to win, then it must be so. It doesn't matter how many times you have "explained" this concept. ("We must be patient when our team loses.""What do we say to the other person who wins?" "That's right, we say, Congratulations!") They continue to react the same way. 

I signed Liam up for baseball for a season or two. Thankfully, the first season, his team was really good and tended to win their games. But, his second season...not so much. I decided that a team sport was not for us when he threw a metal water bottle at his teammate's head because the other team scored several runs. Or, yes, the horror and embarrassment I felt when he yelled at me in the stands through the fence in the dugout that he would smash the other team's players with a hammer. 

"Honey!" heh, heh,...(sheepishly looking around at the other parents)..."we don't say that!" "Honestly, I don't know where he picks this stuff up." ...clearing throat..."Hey, I think I smell hot dogs at the concession stand!"

And, this concept doesn't just apply towards the games that my son plays himself. This goes toward the teams he is remotely associated with. My oldest son, Walker, is in the marching band at his high school. The football team has had a less than stellar season, and one particular game was looking pretty ugly by half-time. 

Liam was huddled in an awkward ball in the stadium, wailing, (fairly loudly, I might add) about how he wanted to go home. I was on pins and needles not knowing if he would lash out at me or some innocent by-stander. I feared the worst. And was going to be pretty angry if I was forced to miss my other son's performance at half-time. 

Then it occurred to me! Yes! Just maybe...maybe it would work. Liam loves football. His current favorite obsession is to run in the open field across from our house and make 'long' yardage runs into the endzone. Hours he will spend pretending he is the star player running down the sidelines. (and oddly enough, he wins EVERY time!) 

"Liam, IF you can pull yourself together and behave the rest of the game, THEN I will let you run for touchdowns after the football game on the big field...the REAL field!!"

I waited with bated breath to see if my proposal would work. His teary eyes looked at me in disbelief. "What is this?" he seemed to ask with his eyes. 

"Yes, the team will leave the field and you can run down the sidelines ALL by yourself."

It worked!!! He sat up, breathed a deep breath, and held himself together for another solid hour and a half. 

I had used two key words that worked- 'if' and 'then'. Two of the most powerful words in the autism world. They are indisputable. They are black and white. If you do this, then you will get that. And, if the 'then' is motivating enough, it works like a charm. It is the Tao of autism. 

"If/then" was introduced to me several years ago and changed my life. I had to at first give myself the permission to use them and not believe that I was somehow bribing my child into good behavior. But, then I realized, what the freak do I care?! I want good behavior. I want sanity. And, today, this is what works. 

The football team took a hard couple of licks that night. But, not us. We won. I got to win, and Liam got to win. And, IF I could get Liam to do what I asked for just this once, THEN it would give me the hope to wake up and do it all over again the next day. 

Love the 'if/then', embrace the 'if/then', make friends with it, and you can win too.

(Here is Liam's triumphant victory!)