Fear of the unknown

I spend a lot of my life in a safe, protected bubble with JJ. No ‘proper’ job for me, no school for him.

We come and go as we please. When we see people, it’s people we know and love – and people who GET us.

That’s why, when I overheard a conversation today, I was floored.

Two mothers with babies in buggies were watching their pre-schoolers play. I was standing close by as JJ was also playing nearby. He wasn’t playing *with* their children, but he was close enough to be seen.

And to be particularly noticed, as it turns out.

Now this page, my blog, has never been about me asking for sympathy, or moaning about the hand that life has dealt me.

On the contrary. Here we can find connection, understanding and I hope we can all learn through other’s experience.

This page has also never been about pointing out my families differences, and comparing them to other families who don’t share our challenges.

Because, what’s the point?

If I create a space, it has to be positive and it has to align with JJ’s best interests (as much as I can do). And it has to include autistic and PDA people of all ages. It has to create awareness, understanding, and community.

That’s what I hope.

So when I share this story, know that it comes from a place of genuine shock, and shows me in a situation I’ve not had to deal with before.

Back to what happened. Parent A said to parent B to that my son might ‘have autism’. I mean, he wasn’t wearing his sign as we left it at home but clearly she noticed a difference.

Parent B said that she hoped her young child wouldn’t turn out to ‘have autism’.

A replied ‘why, do you think he might have?’ To which B replied ‘I don’t think so, but I’d know, right?’.

A confidently told her that she would know. ‘They are usually mute I think. They don’t look at you. And delayed at school. I think you’d know by now.’

B replied defensively: ‘I’m not worried, I just know I wouldn’t cope. I mean you see these families, these kids *vague gesture towards JJ* and they’re out and about. But I just wouldn’t want that.’

Boom.

Ok, so there’s a lot to unpack there.

The ignorance was STRONG, clearly. And I’m not blaming these parents for that.

Mute? Well some autistic people are non-verbal or pre-verbal. Some are situationally mute. Some, like JJ, rarely ever stop talking. In a nutshell, all autistic people are different.

Eye contact? I don’t need to go in to this too much. Some professionals still think eye contact = neurotypical. It’s lazy and it’s wrong. And it has far reaching, damaging consequences in the rate of diagnosis.

Delayed at school? I mean COME ON people, have you never seen Rainman?! I mean that’s where lots of people got their first ‘education’ about autism, and Raymond was a savant!

Ok ok, I’m clearly joking. Don’t kill me. But I was surprised that this woman genuinely thought this was a thing. Newsflash: autism isn’t an intellectual disability. And just for the record, neither does it make you a genius.

As for her worry about not wanting to have to cope with an autistic child, well what can I say? It’s not a choice I made but I don’t know any other life. JJ is, well JJ, in all his beautiful and perfect imperfection.

Just like me, actually!!

Just like all humans.

Parents like us, we learn, we cope, we adapt, we deal.

We look at life through a different lens.

We make more genuinely respectful parenting decisions.

We treasure the small stuff.

We have massive highs and massive lows.

We burst with sadness sometimes, but we also burst with happiness and pride.

For us, it’s just parenting, innit?

So, after the *boom* of what they’d said dropped. I genuinely held my breath and waited for a moment as I prepared to step closer and talk to them.

To *educate* them. Whether they wanted me to or not. And that’s when it hit me again. There IS no real autism awareness really, is there? All there is are stereotypes and misconceptions. And FEAR of difference. Fear of disability.

All that A and B wanted was to fit in. To have a predictable life, for their kids to go to school, hit their all-important societal milestones, have friends, go to sports clubs, and have happy and predictable lives. Anything else is scary. Different. I get that.

And to be honest, I probably felt that way once. A long long time ago. But I don’t really remember that version of me, and I certainly struggle to relate nowadays.

Would they have listened? Or would they have felt attacked? Would I have made any difference? Would I have really educated them? Would I have appeared rude as I was clearly listening to their conversation?’

To be fair, I can’t filter *anything* out, so it’s not my fault I heard it all

But the question of what to do, what was morally right, what I’ve started to see as my mission in life…was abruptly null and void, as JJ called me and I had to turn all my attention to him. And quickly. And that, folks, is life.

Because, that’s what it’s like when I’m out with him, A and B. And it’s ok! It’s all ok. You don’t get chosen for this life, you just DO this life.

And please don’t give me sympathy, as well-intended as that might be. If you want to help, buy me coffee and a cake. Or better still, a lovely ice cold beer and a refill for my vape

If you do want to help, A and B, and I’m going out on a limb here because you’re both clearly busy parents, but if you did want to help…may I suggest opening yourselves up to learning what being neurodivergent really means.

Because that’s what we need. Not awareness or understanding (well of course we do) but more importantly we want education, knowledge and FACTS to be shared in *schools, workplaces and between professionals*

And then A and B, and people like them, won’t be afraid. Because fear creates pain, suffering and division, and that never ends well, does it?