A Different Language

Imagine that you have a child from another country and he speaks one language and you speak English.  The more you speak English, the more enraged he becomes with you because you do not understand what he is saying.  This is the world of Autism.  This is what I experience on a daily basis.  This morning was supposed to move smoothly like every other morning this week.  Only difference is my son woke up enraged.  I will never get to the bottom of what happened in his sleep, the wake up was the same, but he was angry at the world, but mostly me.  From throwing things to a time out, to telling me what he was going to do, to even telling me that I was withholding things from him, still confused about that, he had to get out the door, he had to get on the bus.  That was our goal this morning and I made it through without pulling my hair out of my head.  I love my son.  This morning was a true test of strength.  I wish that I could say that things will get better today, but once my day is derailed and I pray that I don’t run around looking like a chicken with my head cut off.


Autism is a different language.  Often it is just the child repeating to you what you have said to them.  Makes you feel like a genius sometimes that you say things and they look at you and say them right back but then it flashes across your memory that they may not understand the words that are coming out of your mouth.  It is like going to Haiti and not speaking a bit of French.  Sometimes you just stare at them and wonder what they are thinking.  What is bouncing in their little heads to make them so angry, hostile, and sometimes even cold but then you realize that you are not in their world and sometimes they may be angry, hostile, and cold because they just want to take a step out.  But you are  the outsider that does not understand.  You often do not belong there because you do not speak the language.  Yet you have the huge capacity to love and you just wished that they could show it back to you they way you show it to them.

I know that my son is in there when he has a rough day.  The kind, gentle soul that I know him to be is in there, I just need to get to him.  Sometimes it is hard to do and sometimes, like this morning, you just need to step to the side and let them be and then help them get out of the door.  Sometimes, you need to get out of the door yourself for a moment and just breathe and the go back in, but in the state that my son gets in like this, you can not rationalize with him, you can not talk him through it, you just have to let it be.  It is hard letting go and letting it be, but it is what has to be done.  All one can do is pray that you either learn the language or you find an inner peace to learn to deal with the behaviors.


One thought on “A Different Language

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s