Everyone has definitions of autism. Professionals define it, advocacy organizations define it (too often in a way that excludes self-advocates), schools and government define it. And these definitions always miss some really, really important elements – they miss the sensory distinctions. They miss how we process emotions and empathy (or they say we don’t have emotions or empathy). And they miss our culture.
Yes, our culture. And our “alive.”
You want to know what autism is?
It is when I visited another autistic and we both sat on the floor across from each other, typing, flapping, gesturing, and pointing. It was when this other autistic brought some stim toys and blankets, threw the blankets over me and gestured at the toys, knowing after a long trip I probably needed some rest. That’s something most neurotypicals can’t pick up on, but another autistic knew immediately.
It was on another trip, with a different autistic, when I was also on the floor, not communicating with words at all, but still seeing, still listening – and having food just appear in front of me, people knowing that’s what I needed right then.
It’s finding others that think like you do. Not just intellectually, but on that more human, basic level. People who carry no expectation (unless they’ve been taught!) that I need to “look them in the eye.” People who understand why I’m stressed out in a certain environment, why I’m calm under my blankets, why I might not be taking care of my own needs (like eating). Mind you, these other people are other autistics, often who have their own difficulties with similar things – but somehow, when able, they are more then willing to help.
Now this is one type of autism – there are many others. Oh, no, not like you might think of high and low functioning or other bogusness. No, there are autistics I can’t relate to, but for different reasons. You see, one thing people would learn from us is that there are different kinds of autistic people, but not different in the sense of IQ, communication, or any of the things that non-autistic people seem to often notice. No, differences at a much more basic level – maybe that autistic IT professional and the non-speaking autistic with full-time support are closer to each other than two autistic IT professionals are!
I’ve seen autistics open their homes, their wallets, their kitchens, and their hearts for me. These are not the actions of people without empathy or human connection. I’ve traveled the world – literally – and met autistics in other countries. We desire a connection.
This isn’t to say life isn’t challenging for anyone. But, it’s life. Life can be beautiful one day and hell the next. For anyone. Anyone can lose a loved one. Anyone can be hurt or abused. Anyone can fail to achieve a goal. But autism isn’t just failure and pain, anymore than humanity is failure and pain. There’s also the joys, including the joy of connection.
The most significant day in my life was the day I married my – autistic – wife. Two autistics in one house. Sometimes I help her, sometimes she helps me. Sometimes we both somehow get through the day having difficulty together, but at least with someone to share it with. She knows me in ways that only someone who has lived as I have, and thinks as I do, could know. It’s beautiful and wonderful and love. I’ll say this: I’m living. Not just existing. But living. Autism is alive. Autism is love. This is autism.