Dear Addie,
There I was, painting our back porch door as you were making your rounds about the backyard in a “not so quiet” fashion (as you usually do). As I sat listening, I wondered if our neighbors (or anyone one who is within a few blocks of our house for that matter) knew that we didn’t know it would be this way.
A quiet, tranquil, meditative yard - we have not.
Addie, one of the truest quotes I’ve heard on this journey has got to be - “If you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.” That said, it has only been from falling into the comparison trap that I’ve come to see the truth in this statement.
You see Ad, every autistic individual, such as yourself, has their own set of challenges, ways of communicating and unique awesomeness that makes them their very own person. Which brings me to my thoughts over the weekend...
A young high school version of mommy wanted nothing more than to just blend in - kind of funny now because I always preach to all of you not to be afraid to stand out. To truly embrace and be who you are. Easier said than done I guess.
I should probably listen to my own advice sometimes.
I guess you could say whether it seemed this way outwardly to others or not, I’ve always had a healthy dose of social anxiety. I found my comfort in dancing growing up, and I was blessed that I was able to do it as much as I did. Through movement I found an almost therapeutic element and a sense of belonging to something. It was my happy place. There’s a famous quote that references “...to dance like no one's watching,” and with the brightness of the lights on stage, the audience would go black - virtually disappearing, and that’s exactly how it felt to me. Just me dancing about with no one watching.
Fast forward to today and you’re stage is much bigger than the one that I found comfort in. Your happy place is outside with nature, freely going about our yard, being you, every ounce of you, no matter who’s in your audience.
My audience use to buy tickets, your audience - what do they think?
We didn’t know it would be like this.
The sound of a creaking swing going back and forth partnered with your squeals of excitement - quite the performance my dear. The abundance of butterflies who provide you such great enjoyment to watch, get yelled at on the daily for their refusal to be caught by your little hands (it doesn’t always end well for those that do subside - let it be known we discourage this at all cost), and you are definitely not shy in showing your dismay!
The dogs, who I’m convinced lack any ability to be quiet, bark and it immediately triggers you to produce the first 8 instrumental counts to Lady Gaga’s Edge of Glory at the top of your lungs - I haven’t the slightest clue why, but it’s all clockwork. It’s predictable and loud. Sometimes very, very loud.
Our journey didn’t come with a prologue of upcoming chapters, and 4 years ago when we moved here we just didn’t know that this is what it would be like. That this would be your “stage”.
Did our neighbors know this would be part of their journey? Did they envision quietly sipping coffee or wine on their back patio, only for their reality to be serenaded by the “many sounds of Addie”? Are they thinking the same thing - “I didn’t know it would be this way?” I often wonder if they find frustration in living by us and just the thought of that breaks my heart because we love and appreciate them all.
When they host friends or family, do they find themselves educating or explaining somehow what’s going on with the wild sounds of nature outside? Do they see your autism, or the child first? I get the whole “see the person not the disability” but your autism isn’t always easy to hide - it doesn’t define you, but it is certainly the most audible. There’s no denying that.
As I sat on the porch painting the door, listening to you on your stage wondering all these things, and maybe not knowing all the answers, here’s what I thought Addie, we have the best of the best when it comes to neighbors, and I truly mean that.
I often stay on the porch when you are in the yard, to give you space, but ya know - staying close enough to keep you out of trouble. I have heard each and everyone one of our neighbors talk to you, YOU Addie, not to mommy on the porch about you (they probably don’t even know I’m there), but to YOU. Not in an angered, annoyed kind of way, but a kind, sweet, calm way rather. Hearing this can literally bring me to tears some days. They talk to you whether you acknowledge them or not. The best part in all this is more recently you’re even starting to engage by responding back, it’s generally an echolalia response, but it happening. Emerging communication skills right there on your stage.
So Addie, we just didn’t know it would be this way, none of us did, but for whatever the reasons we were all meant to be on each other’s journeys and our little dream team feels blessed for the love & kindness that they have given (and continue to give) us every single day.
We love you the whole world full baby girl. Keep commanding your stage.
Love,
Mom
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