快活视频

BY ADRIENNE FRANK

鈥淚 have something important to tell you,鈥� my 7-year-old son, Owen (pictured above), said one evening last fall as we drove home from school. 鈥淭here are two kinds of people in the world: R鈥檚 and F鈥檚. I鈥檓 an R, but I want to be an F.鈥�

His choice of letters was significant. F is Owen鈥檚 favorite letter鈥攁 nod to the love of firetrucks he鈥檚 nurtured since toddlerhood. Like any one of us, he鈥檚 keenly aware of what he鈥檚 not. But instead of longing to be thinner or richer, Owen simply wants not to be different.

My beautiful boy has a complicated cocktail of diagnoses: autism, ADHD, dyslexia, dyscalculia and executive function disorder. He can be particular, rigid, anxious and singularly focused on penguins or subways, of which he possesses an encyclopedic knowledge. He can explode with anger or flap with joy. Inquisitive and creative, Owen boasts a triple letter score vocabulary and asks thoughtful, often unanswerable questions鈥斺�淲hy don鈥檛 chickens have eyebrows?鈥濃�攜et he has little sense of time or personal space. Owen is sensitive to loud noises and chaotic environments, and often prefers to draw by himself in blissful silence.

My husband, Sam, and I had been debating when we should tell Owen that he鈥檚 on the spectrum, but it never seemed the right time. Until it was.

After a January reporting trip to the Hussman Center, I was talking to Sam about the story when Owen鈥攍istening stealthily while tapping furiously on his iPad鈥攃himed in: 鈥淢ama, do I have autism?鈥�

The question that I鈥檝e been bracing myself for since my only child was diagnosed in 2015 lingered for what felt like an eternity. My eyes met Sam鈥檚 and he gave me a gentle nod.

鈥淵es,鈥� I said. 鈥淵ou have autism.鈥�

I did my best to explain what that meant, but it was impossible to avoid the word that he鈥檇 already begun to associate with being deficient, odd, less than. 鈥淵our brain is just wired differently.鈥�

Owen didn鈥檛 say a peep about it for a month, until I told him that, due to a childcare snafu, he had to go with me back to the Hussman Center for the Friday evening social group. 鈥淚t鈥檚 an autism club?鈥� he asked cautiously but curiously as we sat in traffic.

鈥淵ep,鈥� I replied. 鈥淚sn鈥檛 that cool?鈥�

And it was.

I鈥檝e long suspected that autistic people have a sixth sense when it comes to spotting others on the spectrum. So it was no surprise when one friendly young man after another鈥擲am, Chris, Daniel, Robert鈥攁pproached us during the social group to chat with my son.

How old are you, little man? What鈥檚 your favorite Lego movie? Do you play Minecraft? Do you like SpongeBob?

Seven; the first one; yes; and oh, yes, he said, smiling. Soon, Owen was telling them about school and his cats, Finn and Cinnamon. 鈥淚t was nice talking to you,鈥� he chirped, giving them five as we moved from one room to the next. I could see the wheels spinning in his head: If this is what autism鈥攚hat being different鈥攍ooks like, it might be OK.

Two hours later, we were preparing to leave when we bumped into 25-year-old Christopher Garrett. After entertaining my questions, he shifted his focus to Owen, who revealed that some of his classmates pick on him.

鈥淏uddy, being different is your superpower,鈥� said Christopher, as Owen lit up and I teared up.

Too often, we focus on the challenges associated with autism: social isolation, bullying, anxiety and depression, unemployment, learning disabilities and comorbid conditions. And make no mistake, those struggles are very real for people on the spectrum and those who love them.

But we mustn鈥檛 forget autism鈥檚 silver lining: how, through shared experience and a shared love of SpongeBob SquarePants, those on the spectrum can form an affirming, inclusive community where being different isn鈥檛 the thing that sets people apart鈥攊t鈥檚 the very thing that brings them together.

On the drive home, I asked Owen if he thought Christopher and the others were
R鈥檚 or F鈥檚.

鈥淥h, Mama, at the autism club, we鈥檙e all F鈥檚.鈥�

Adrienne Frank is a writer and editor in Bethesda, Maryland.