To Parents of Autistic People - Care for Yo'Self

One of the most repeated things I’ve heard in grad school is the phrase “self-care”. It is basically what you think it is – taking care of oneself. It feels like a no-brainer to take care of yourself to maintain a healthy lifestyle, but to practice self-care you have to be able to take a break from whatever is bringing you down and remind yourself you are worth the care. And I can attest that can be difficult when it comes to autism.

I completely understand how parents are stressed taking care of their autistic children. As an autistic child, I was acutely aware how my parents were constantly in my affairs from school to therapy and beyond. It’s a misconception that autistic people are not aware of the world around them - I could tell that my parents put a lot more work in me than they needed to for my siblings. I constantly felt they were constantly frustrated and tired with all the challenges I presented. It created a sense of feeling like a burden that I’m still fighting to this day.

 It’s this feeling that made what a recent discovery so uplifting. I was talking with my mother a few weeks ago about her experience raising me and I asked her if she ever got people telling her they felt sorry for her. She said she didn’t experience that, following with some words I’ll never forget:

"I never felt sorry for myself."

For Autism Acceptance Month, I'm Learning to Self-Accept My Autism

Each year, the month of April is "reserved" for autism. It's often used to raise awareness (autism exists - congratulations, awareness has now been achieved!) but I see a growing movement for people to accept autism as it is, appropriately named Autism Acceptance Month. There's more information on it here, but I like the idea of autism acceptance. It's a positive way to show people what autism is from the autistic perspective, thus perpetuating love, respect, and a real understanding for autism as a whole. In a world full of misinformation about mental health and disabilities, I welcome Autism Acceptance Month with open arms. We need to hear and value autistic people's own stories as a legitimate source of what autism is like beyond brain neurology and blue lightbulbs.

So it's with that in mind that I talk about my personal process of autism acceptance. Or as I call it, how I'm accepting being autistic.

Remembering My Grandparents, or What a Good Ally Looks Like

I started writing about a myriad of topics for this month. I started pieces on accommodations, on learning autism-specific terms, on the troubles of labeling, special interests, etc. I didn't quite know what to put up on the blog so I began writing almost anything I could think of. (Don't worry, those pieces will see the light of day - I promise.)

Then at the beginning of January, my paternal grandfather died.

This wasn't exactly a shock to me. Zadie (said grandfather) hadn't been in great health for the past year. And he had been in hospice for almost two months, so it really was just a matter of time before he made that trip to the Spirit in the Sky.^(TM) And I had made many a visit where I told him how much I loved him, said my goodbyes, and he was able to respond, telling me he loved me back and always would.

I knew that his departure day was coming. I just wasn't prepared for it.

There are many articles about autism and grief. The Thinking Person's Guide to Autism has a particularly good one worth checking out. But this post isn't going to talk about the psychology or mechanics of how autistic people grieve or face loss. I don't feel that I have any real authority on that, as grief and loss manifests itself differently in people, even across the autism spectrum. No two autistic people are the same.

What I want to talk about is my grandparents' unwavering support for me as an autistic person.