“What were they thinking, when they bought the ceiling fan?”

“Mom, why didn’t I choose that instead?”

“Mom, how come she didn’t do that when I wanted her to?”

No, Builder isn’t asking out of idle curiosity. There really is a phenomenon with autistic people that makes some of them think we all have the same thoughts and mindsets.  You can place two autistic people back to back, facing opposite directions, and ask each what the other person sees.  They will describe what they see, instead.

“No, this is what they see. Just like this,” they’ll tell you.

This is highly frustrating.  It’s like talking to someone who thinks we’re all in the Borg.

Think about how confusing this must be for those who truly operate with this mindset!  Imagine that you think everyone knows what you know, but they do not divulge it. Imagine thinking they’re lying to you about what you know or think you know. Imagine thinking you SHOULD know something but you don’t and no one can tell you.

Because, in truth, we each occupy our own minds.  We can’t peek in on one another.

I didn’t know this was common among people with autism until Ms. M, our home educator and autism specialist, told me it was.  Kind of blew me away.

“Really? So it’s not just Builder?”

“Nope,” she assured me.  ”It’s normal.”

How, then, do we deal with it?  I do so by the only method I know – telling the truth.  ”I don’t know what they’re thinking, honey.  They chose that ceiling fan years before we even moved here.  I hadn’t a clue.”

“Oh. Well, I think we need a new ceiling fan.”

And the conversation continues.  Each of us in our own minds, but he still is believing, somewhere, that our minds are on the same topic.

I am just relieved his communication skills are SO MUCH BETTER now. Truly. I shudder to think that there are kids out there who believe this to be true and feel betrayed by all around them and are unable to talk it out.

Tags: Autism, communication, Parenting, thinking

Talking to Dr. K’nex yesterday (who liked her name, by the way, and even chuckled to know it), I realized something I actually knew years ago about not only Builder, but about Cyclone.

I love how they think. I knew that.  Cyclone, while not identified as having a neurological learning disorder, is a  unique guy with a skewed perception of how the world should be.  It’s that kind of mind that writes amazing stories and that kind of mind that reaches fringe-groups with ideas. I dig it.

Builder, having a recognized neurological disorder, is at somewhat of a disadvantage in communicating. Many parents and groups think we need to CURE autism.  I am not so certain.  Certainly in cases like my son’s, anyway, I think the best thing we can do is to teach them to translate.

Yes, translate.

See, as I knew years ago with Builder, communication is a huge problem.  Communication involves input and output in the sharing of ideas and information.  With Autism Spectrum Disorder, that communication is hampered.

With my son, this hampering was not brought about by anything lacking or missing or added deleteriously to his life; he was BORN like this.  From his earliest days, as I look back, I can see the signs in his developmental milestones.

So, I don’t want to cure my son of being himself.  It isn’t as if having autism is a fatal disease. It is, though, frustrating. Like any kind of disability, there are challenges.  Like anyone, my son gets excited and angry and happy and anxious.  But he doesn’t express these emotions in what would be considered a culturally-appropriate, relevant manner.  This has led to some problems, certainly.  When he gets angry, he wants to break everything down and start over, building it up the way he wants it to be.

Who doesn’t?  Wouldn’t we all like to have that opportunity?

But when he expresses this wish, it often comes out sounding very much like, “I hate you and I want to kill you!”

Yep.

Or, “I want to rip my voicebox out!”

Yep.

He can be violent in the translation.  He is very strong.  This can be problematic, as well.  Furniture at school has gone flying.  This is not good. I am not excusing his behavior in any way. It’s why he’s home right now, being educated on a special system until we can even out his internal responses.

Thing is, though, he mostly needs help translating.  He needs to learn that it is far better to shout, “I am SOOO hating this right now!” than to pick up a desk and chuck it at the teacher.  Far better to say, “I want to get away from this place!” than it is to pull down bookshelves and then run away.

And eventually, I’d love for him to be able to say, “Okay. I don’t like it, and I hate being here, but okay. I will be quiet and deal.”

Because, not liking a situation, hating feeling out of control… These are common feelings.  Normally, folks express them in a variety of ways, translating their feelings into acceptable channels and verbalizing them with mutters, essays, letters to the editor, pacing, even occasionally punching a pillow and screaming into it.

Those are languages we understand and accept.  Violence is not an acceptable translation, but it is still one that my son is currently resorting to on occasion.

I am so sorry that he is having a problem learning other ways of communicating…but we’re working on it.  In a lower-stress environment.

I love the fun paths of his mind. I love that he builds and designs and has a vision of the world as he’d like it to be.  That’s terrific.  I just can’t wait for the time when he can share that vision with everyone else in a way they will understand and appreciate.

He will, someday, learn to translate.

Tags: Autism, communication