Dear Addie,
This week was moving along quite nicely. School was going well and we were finally settling into our school year routine with everyone’s busy schedules. It was all adjusting smoothly, even felt like, dare I say... this transition seemed easier than years past? For the first time in a long time I felt like we were truly killing it at parenting all 3 of you - with some seriously crazy schedules at that. I know some people think I should never feel anything less, but confidence isn’t exactly served up on a silver platter on this journey. We question the thousands of decisions we make on a daily basis.
Everything seemed to be going so well, until you and I were in a situation at Gabe's Soccer game, and someone stared at us just a little too long. I went from on top of the world to snap - just like that... the opposite. Feeling judged and struggling to exist.
Sounds kinda silly doesn’t it?
Unfortunately being stared at just comes with the territory. Being different naturally strikes curiosity - I get it, but there is such a thing as lingering too long in a stare.
Am I being sensitive? I don’t really think so, but some might say otherwise.
Here’s the thing Ad. In our house, I forget that our family dynamic is different from anyone else’s.
We make dinner and eat as a family, have two dogs that patiently wait for something to fall, you play on swings in the backyard, we pray, brush our teeth, have chores, do sports, have jobs, do homework, sometimes annoy each other, hey - I even drive a minivan (that I love!).
It doesn't seem different than any other family really.
The meltdowns, diapers, therapy, auditory distress, decompression time, scripting, etc. This too all feels normal, because this is “our” normal and even in this I forget others might not have to manage these things.
It's only when we have to take in that “exposure is key” advice when we are reminded that we are far from society’s “normal.”
Which brings me to the event where someone, without saying a word, reminded me that we are different and made me feel less than.
It was a late Saturday afternoon soccer game for Gabe (and a very hot day at that). Having had a full morning of decompression time, I packed a bag of activities and snacks and we headed on our way to cheer on big brother.
Like most everything in our lives as soon as we get used to something - it changes. Soccer fields (yes, soccer fields) used to terrify you. Not sure if it was the vast open space that somehow felt unsettling, but you didn’t like it and weren’t shy about displaying your emotion for such. After a whole season of practically dragging you up there kicking and screaming (good healthy dose of exposure is key), you eventually stopped crying and were able to stay for at least half of a practice or game.
The next season would bring the challenge of not being able to sit still, but hey we were up there, so we would walk around the field.
This season it’s the sound of the blowing whistle. I honestly never paid any attention to how often a whistle was blown in a soccer game until this year and with multiple games going on at once, the number is staggering!
For whatever reason every time it’s blown right on cue you shout “I feel” and then shake your head 3 times. It almost looks as if you are trying to shake the sound away.
Simple solution - headphones right? Well those only help so much and when it’s 96 degrees outside. I don’t blame you for wanting to rip them off. They’ve got to be uncomfortable and hot!
I try to repeat in my head “Exposure is key”, we’re outside, just work through it...
When we are at home or maybe at the playground the ability to tune certain sounds out is like a secret magic parenting power we have, but we also know when our presence is distracting to others and spare no time making everyone else feel more comfortable - right or wrong as that may sound.
After a good ten minutes of this exposure (with headphones that clearly weren’t working) we decided it’d be best maybe just to retreat the the playground.
On our way there I could feel someone staring at us, sure enough I looked up to a woman who was staring so intently and long that she actually twisted her body around to keep looking at us.
It felt horrible. I wanted to turn around and say something, but I knew that wasn’t the right thing to do.
Instead I wanted to shrink us down small enough to hide beneath the blades of grass, because that lingering stare made me feel that's where we belonged.
Again maybe I’m being sensitive? But we get stared at all the time, why did this lingering stare feel so awful? I mean, surely she wasn't trying to see what brand headphones you were wearing, because if that was the case she could've just asked. Instead she was just making an uncomfortable situation (that we were in fact trying to exit) worse.
As we settled into the completely empty playground, I couldn’t shake the feeling of how that woman made me feel. It wasn't a sympathetic look parents give one another to silently reference “we’ve been there - keep up the good work mama” or a look of feeling bad that we felt we needed to leave, or even a curious look, no it looked more like she was really put off by us and was supportive of our decision to leave.
Listen I get it. Maybe she was recording her son or daughters game and our loud noises was not exactly a memory she wanted captured? Perhaps your sounds were taking away from hearing her cheer for her son or daughter in the game? Here’s the thing though, the best advice families like ours get living in this spectrum journey is “Exposure.” I can most certainly tell you we don't seek out to draw attention and think how we can annoy people the most that day? Not even close! We just want our family to have the same opportunity of cheering on our soccer player just like everyone else!
Addie I don’t know why that woman decided to hold us in her stare with what I perceived as such a disapproving look, and maybe I got it all wrong, but what I do know from this experience is that actions truly do speak louder than words and I for one will use this feeling to ensure I don’t inadvertently make others feel the same way she made me feel.
We’ll keep going this soccer season and cheering on Gabe because he deserves it. We will work through your struggles each week and I know in no time you’ll be able to stay the whole game soon.
I love you.
Love,
Mom
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