I haven’t posted much for a while. I’ve been feeling discouraged because my perspective is at odds with the prevailing narrative of autism, and I know mine is a story that can hurt the feelings and hopes of other people. The author of one comment on this blog told me I was harming people with autism by telling my story.
So should I just keep this story to myself? Should I just get over it?
Nearly all blogs and articles I read offer the same messages: that autism is a problem only because other people aren’t understanding and supportive; that people with autism don’t really lack empathy; that good people wouldn’t change anything about their loved one with autism. Because I can’t say those things, because I have chosen to articulate the difficulty of my experiences as a child of an autistic mother, because I do wish my mother could change, the implication is that my story is unspeakable, and I must be a terrible person.
I’ve been thinking that my story and my views are intolerable unless I can get to a state of mind that not only forgives all of my mother’s hurtful behavior but goes as far as embracing it. To be a good person, I need to be able to say the same things parents of ASD kids say: that in spite of the challenges, my mother is warm and funny and loving, and I don’t wish she were any different. I really do wish I could feel nothing but admiration and compassion for her challenges in making her way in a world she finds so stressful. I wish I could release the hurt I’ve felt when her choices have shown that she is oblivious to my feelings, that her feelings for me are shallow, and that our relationship goes only one way. But so far I can’t. And I can’t even convince myself that I should. It seems dishonest and goes beyond self-effacement.
If I had a magic wand, I would give everyone on the autism spectrum the gift of empathy so that they could understand how to address other people’s feelings and needs. I would give them peace from the stress that fills so much of their hearts. So, yes, I would change them if I could. And that has become a forbidden wish.
I don’t want to demean or belittle people with brain wiring that they did not choose. I understand it is awful to know that some people think you need to be different in a way that you can’t control. How can I live with myself for wishing this – since it means I am implying some people are fundamentally flawed? Am I just as heartless and ignorant as people who are racist or who think homosexuality can be cured?
I read something a while ago that gave me some hope that perhaps more realistic and difficult viewpoints about autism can find a place:
In “What We Can All Learn from Autistic People in Love,” by Emily Shire, which appeared online in The Daily Beast, one of the subjects is a woman with autism named Lindsey. Lindsey says, “’The media has the tendency to twist something into what the disability community calls an ‘inspiration story,’ putting us on a pedestal as inspiration objects rather than treating us as real people,’ she explains. She didn’t want to be dehumanized.’”
The most important idea that Lindsey expressed – to me anyway – is that it’s both unrealistic and condescending to insist on portraying people with any kind of disability as an inspiration. It’s wrong, I agree, to insist that all messages about disabilities have to suppress any negative consequences. And it’s not helpful to recast a disability as no more than difference.
We’re all flawed. We’re all struggling. We all could use some understanding. Sometimes our needs are in conflict. Sometimes even the most empathetic of us can’t soften our hearts. Sometimes we all have to be accountable.
I needed a mother with empathy. I still do. I think we all need that. Some people don’t have empathy, and that, I believe, is profoundly tragic. It’s so tragic and important that I think it is absurd to silence the message even though I know it hurts those people who don’t have empathy. And I include people who insist they do have empathy but they just don’t know how to express it – because the truth is empathy matters when the other person can see that you can act on it, when you can set your needs aside for someone else’s.
I think I’m being brave to write about my experiences, especially when my view is unpopular. I know some people will think I am cruel and bitter and should be silent unless I can be cheerful and supportive.
But if I keep it quiet, it’s still true.