Terence is 25!
Terence shares a quiet moment with sister Destiny on his birthday!
Terence turned 25 in May! Yay!
I must say that I am surprised as anyone by how much he has impacted my life. In fact, throughout Autism Awareness Month in April, my thoughts centered on the impact of his autism on me. I continue to learn so much from my son that it’s worth a quick note.
First, Patience. Living with autism requires a ton of it! During my son’s younger years, there were tantrums, crying fits, Code Adam’s, and all kinds of stressful encounters that tested my ability to see beyond that moment and look toward the future. Through years behavioral therapy, the corrective measures were more on my part than on Terence’s. Often I’d call the therapist in a frenzy, totally upset at yet another breakdown from Terence and wanting the therapist to FIX MY SON! Instead, she would have me reenact the encounter—what he did and how I responded—then point out ways I could have stopped the spiral by responding differently. I didn’t want to hear this. After all, I wasn’t paying the therapist to correct me. Yet, I did learn that there were ways to cut the tantrum spiral short, ways to divert his attention, ways to counteract his frustration—and mine!—all by being willing to be patient, think, observe then act. Prior to Terence, I did not have the ability or tools to moderate my responses in such ways. I would react or infer an incident, instead of deconstructing it and using my learnings going forward.
Second, Humor. Some of things my son thinks up, says, or does just cracks me up. His take on food is to make everything a sandwich is creative combinations is mind boggling: cheese, roasted. Vegetables or kale, some type of bread and whatever left over piled into one sandwich. Then there’s the lack of a social filter. My son will speak aloud the question or comment I have about someone or a situation, saying what’s on my mind. My filter keeps me silent, but for Terence, “What is up with that?” LOL! Recently, there are the standoffs between our rescue cat and Terence. Bagheera is not a fan of men, in general, and is leery of this loud young man with big feet and big hands, who insist on brushing her fur against the grain. Although, Terence makes sure to feed her and keeps the litter box clean, when he enters her space wanting to play or puts his face too close to hers, she becomes completely standoffish. He will persist past her protests and Bagheera will lift a paw-minus claws-to warn him off. These stand offs can be hilarious!
Third, Perspective. Terence does not experience regret. Now I can list a string of things I regret and sometimes go down a rabbit hole of “what ifs?” For Terence, though, he lives in the NOW. This helps me pull myself out of worry and focus on what is in front of me. Also, he accepts what is. He doesn’t dwell on the should woulda coulda stuff. It’s just not in his vocabulary. I realized this skill when divorcing his father. I’d spent an extra two years with my therapist afraid of what the breakup of our family would do to Terence, since he was close to his father. When I finally got up the courage to divorce their father and we moved out, Terence’s only response was, “Okay.” That’s it? Okay. Then he wanted to know what was for dinner. When we moved from Douglasville, GA to Decatur, GA, my daughter and I would want to go back and visit our friends or a favorite eatery or book store in Douglasville. Terence would look at us perplexed and ask, “Why? We live here now.” The same when his job in downtown Atlanta imploded. “I’m ready to go.” Simple. Straight forward. Looking ahead, not behind. Meanwhile, I am contemplating lawsuits and thinking about all the hours we spent preparing for that job. Yet, once again, I see how Terence handles the situation and it informs my own viewpoint. When I remove my Mama emotions, I see the wisdom in that young man.
Fourth. Gratitude. From the beginning, I’ve learned to be grateful that Terence has autism with no underlying conditions. Once the daycare workers sent us across the street to CHOA, Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta, for analysis and speech therapy, I’ve learned the value of gratitude. As we would traverse the hospital multiple times a week for speech therapy, I would see children with cancer and other ailments. Ailments that may mean extensive hospital stays or, unfortunately, not leaving the hospital alive. Would I accept God’s decision to gift my son with autism? My decision was easy. Yes, I will accept. And I have. Over the years, I’ve seen injustice done to black boys and men—NOT on the spectrum, disasters and violence that strike and devastate youngsters with a myriad of ills. Yet, my nemesis remains autism. And yes, I am grateful that my son is now 25 and lives at home, and that his stay may be permanent. I am grateful that he enjoys “children TV” and 80s/90s music. Yes, grateful, that he is kind and has a smile that lights up a room. Grateful.