Your Looks Won’t Pierce His Strength (Autism Journey)

It’s no secret that Dinky is currently going through a diagnosis for autism. I’ve known from a very early age that he would be.

All of these are phrases I loathe.

He doesn’t look like he has autism..

No it’s not a physical deformity, it’s a mental condition. So no, he doesn’t look any different to what you consider “normal”.

In fact he is a gorgeous, happy, cheerful looking child.

He’s fine..

No actually he’s not. He needs constant reassurance, a whole week planned out in advance. He needs everything to go as scheduled. He needs me to block out strange noises, he needs to repeat things, he needs to relive his fondest memories over and over, he needs me to go through the same rigmarole everyday just to prevent a meltdown.

But… he can remember things that you will have long forgotten about. He can take things apart and put things back together perfectly first try. He is so interested on how and why things are made. That noise he’s scared of? It’s because he wants to understand why that noise is being made, and how he can fix it.

All kids learn at different rates..

Yes they do, but when your child can barely put a sentence together at the age of three and a child almost a year younger is talking full on, you know something isn’t right.

He may not have been able to talk since he left the womb but he always shows love and compassion. He already knows how to use my phone better than I do. He’s so tech savvy I can already see him being in the tech industry when he is older. He’s always happy, he always greets me with a smile, even if he’s in trouble. He always knows how to cheer me up and put a smile back on my face.

Oh that’s normal, my kid does that

I’m not denying that your child doesn’t misbehave or become frightened at times, but please don’t make me explain how fear of the bathroom fan coming on is different to fear of the boogeyman.

I hate having to try and explain autism to the dumb and ignorant. I hate the looks he gets when he doesn’t do what a “normal” child does. I hate that “normal” is even something my beautiful boy is compared to.

Don’t look at me with pity. Don’t look at him with pity. He’s the strongest person I know. I can see his fright and confusion but he still faces every day with a smile. Your looks won’t pierce his strength. 

He’s perfect, and he’s mine.