Spaceman

Even as a baby, Owen was a little spacey. He used to just kind of freeze up or withdraw…we used to refer to it as “getting stuck” and this was long before autism was ever suggested. Eventually, I affectionately started calling him “spaceman” and the nickname stuck.

When he was diagnosed with autism just before turning three, this spaciness made more sense. In fact, it was one of the few things that did seem to fit with the diagnosis at first. Nearly two years later, I can see the other characteristics that put him on the autism spectrum – the toe-walking, the lack of eye contact, the sensitivity to sounds, the general sort of quirkiness he possesses – but the spaciness still stands out as the most troubling. Or rather, the thing that I think will give him the most trouble in life.

I suppose you could view his ability to shut out external input and focus on whatever it is he wants to focus on as a gift. And thankfully, in his case, it’s only a sometimes state of being – we get lots of time where he’s just as present and engaged as any almost-five-year-old boy. Unfortunately, the unpredictable bouts of spaciness make school, group activities and, well, basic communication a lot more complicated – for us typically-brained folk, anyway.

Sometimes when he slips into his own little world, it really seems like he’s far away. Like he’s not there.

Last night, when he was supposed to be sleeping, he pattered down the hall to our room and curled up in my lap. I told him he could stay for a minute and tried making conversation. I got nothing back from him, so after a few minutes of silence on his part I just came out asked, “How come sometimes when I talk to you, you don’t answer me?”

And with no hesitation, he said, “Because sometimes I’m busy.”

So he’s there, he’s just busy. Fair enough.