May we all evolve

The other day, Owen had a meltdown. A gigantic meltdown. The kind where his whole body shakes and his fists clench and he screams and cries and he pushes you away and then, seconds later, clings to your neck for dear life.

On the surface, it had something to do with Nerf darts. Underneath, it was his ongoing conflict between the way his brain wants things to be and the way they are.

A lot of parents of kids with autism face these meltdowns daily - hourly, even. We used to struggle with them much more often. Now they happen so infrequently that I am shaken when they occur...I'm caught off guard.

In part, this is because Owen is older and he is very high-functioning. But this is also because we have adapted in the true Darwinian sense. Whereas years ago we made a conscious effort to tell him what to expect before we went places, to give him 5-minute warnings before it was time to change activities, to try to make eye contact and ask him to repeat what we had said to ensure that he was listening...now it's unconscious. It's part of our lives. It's just how things work here.

We have fewer meltdowns because we have evolved our parenting style to head-off things that cause them - and not in a spoiled, this-kid-gets-whatever-he-wants kind of way (honestly, Owen could not have simpler wants), but mainly just through a subtle difference in how we talk to him and how we expect things to go. I suppose all parents do this is some way: you do what works.

I want to be clear here: I am not suggesting that in households where meltdowns are still a regular occurrence, it's because the parents have not suitably adapted their parenting styles. I'm not preaching that we have some superior ability to outsmart the meltdowns that come with autism. I'm saying that we're lucky because we are usually able to avoid the triggers, while I realize that for some kids with autism, unavoidable things like light, clothing, and food can all cause meltdowns.

But anyway, my point is, because we've adapted, Owen's autism doesn't feel like a big deal most days. That doesn't mean we don't notice it - it's just not a daily fight for us. The flip side of this is that whenever I send my little Owen out into the big, unadapted world, I worry.

The worry related to autism are different than the typical mom worry. Or maybe it's a magnified version of the typical mom worry: Will they be safe? Will they be happy?

I worry that people won't understand him. That they will not recognize the signs of an approaching meltdown, or that they wouldn't know what to do even if they did. That they will mistake his meltdown for disobedience. That he will be ostracized or, worse, punished for what is a visceral reaction to being overwhelmed and frustrated.

I have these worries and my son is one of the most high-functioning kids with autism I've had the pleasure to meet, so I cannot imagine the kind of anxiety I would have if this disorder affected him more severely...if communication was an even greater challenge for him.

So, in light of it being Autism Awareness Month, I guess that's near the top of my Autism Wishlist: Give everyone the knowledge and empathy to recognize how hard it can be for people with autism to interact in our neurotypical world.

It's a tall order, yes, but given that it's on my list right under "Find cause" and "Find cure," it feels appropriately aspirational. And maybe achievable on some level. I'm starting with the people in our lives - maybe you can start with the people in yours? Baby steps.

If you want to learn more about autism spectrum disorders, visit www.autismspeaks.org.