Socks & Neurodiverse Thinkers

 

Socks

I watched as my son, Elijah, balanced himself on my mom’s lap with the wobbly legs of a novice walker. He seemed so enthralled with the picture hanging behind her.  I can hardly remember a time when Elijah did not talk. That may have something to do with the fact that I talked to him from the first moment that I was aware of his existence. Full on conversations without the baby talk. Although he kept looking at the above picture and saying “socks!”.  I wasn’t understanding how he was seeing socks. I studied the picture for a long time and finally the image of socks emerged.  The shadows cast by the lodge poles in the old adobe house were indeed creating socks. He wasn’t confused or getting anything wrong, he was seeing socks!

My son Elijah is now 24, creative, hilarious and a neurodivergent individual.  I have spent many years reminding myself to look for the socks; to try to see things from his perspective. Always trying to remind educators that he may not be a typical kiddo, but there’s so much beauty in that. To please begin with positive attributes in every IEP meeting, especially when he was in attendance. To the doctor who wanted to medicate him at two, but not diagnose him, a hard NO. I am thrilled that Elijah challenges the way we look at some things. To the person who told me early on that I needed to break his spirit, thank goodness that I didn’t take that advice. When he was younger and I was his advocate (that never fully ends, by the way), I tried to remind everyone that Elijah is full of possibilities and abilities, not disabilities.  To help them see that neurodiversity is not a negative, but only another difference like any other. Elijah and I have discussed that it is completely up to him whether he chooses to disclose these traits or keep them to himself.  I’ve tried to raise Elijah to be a strong self-advocate and to be proud of who he is, and I feel he is largely successful in that. He’s now an open-minded, capable, polite, thoughtful, insightful young man that happens to be on the autism spectrum.

Time and Tide Wait for No Man

I swear too much.  I’m not looking to apologize for this.  I just feel duty bound to inform you.  If you’re easily offended, then you may find this challenging to get through.  I like my spicy little words and I’ll be damned if I stop using them. I used to try very much to conform to what I thought others wanted of me, but really, over time I’ve come to understand that it’s better for me and everyone involved if I just be true to who I am. 

Some of these lessons in life take a long time to learn.  Mastery of who we are is quite a long process.  As I like to say, sometimes ‘the becoming’ can take a lifetime.  Maybe reading about my little boogie to the point I’m at now, will help you on your journey or at the very least be somewhat entertaining for you.  

Later this year I'll be 55! Fifty fucking five! Double nickels, I can hardly believe it. It seems like a whirlwind of a trip and the longest damn slog I’ve been on, all at the same time.  It’s weird that it can feel like both, but once you have kids that whole time space continuum thing gets all wacky like that.  Parents understand when thinking about their teenager or grown child that it can seem like yesterday that you had your sweet little angel all while seeming like millennia. 

I don’t pretend to be a master at many of life’s lessons, that’s for damn sure.  I know there are some lessons that I will never learn.  Some never become a part of your curriculum; others I could probably write a dissertation on.  One thing remains constant, life goes on.  Whether she’s being a bitch or being funny, life moves on.  As a teacher of mine used to always say, “Time and tide wait for no man.”   Yes, I know he was quoting others that came before him, but pretty deep for a high school art teacher.  As a kid, you think you understand shit like that, but you don’t, not really.  My dad used to say, “The older you get, the faster time goes.”  My thoughts at the time were ‘sure, sure, 24 hours is 24 hours’.  Now, I know just what he means and I’ve figured out why it seems that way too.  That, however is a discussion for another time.

I started documenting my story to help myself.  It’s been a long trek because I would get diverted by global pandemics, hard times, shiny objects, etc.  So it’s been a long, slow process putting this all down on paper.  It’s been a good pilgrimage though.  I do genuinely hope that it helps someone out there on their own long, strange trip.  But the initial process of putting all of this down was a personal therapeutic choice.  I know there are people who won’t like the fact that I’m putting all of this out there for public consumption.  But hey, I didn’t like the abuse that I suffered at your hands either, so now you have something that you have to live with.  Oh and if you're one of those people, fuck you!

**Note: This is an intro I wrote for a something I've been slowly (way too slowly) working on.