David Can't Come Over Anymore: Rationalizing Rejection

“David can’t come over anymore.”

Those five words ended our family’s friendship with a couple and their children.

Our son David was approaching adolescence, and his good friend A_____ was still years younger.

A___’s mom had been our Maid of Honor, our daughters were good friends, and our two sets of sons were frequent playmates and got along well. Our families were close—in our case, they were our closest friends.

Then the bombshell.

A___’s parents were concerned that David’s Asperger’s behavior might influence their son. They proposed a solution. Our families could continue to be friends. We could continue to alternate sleepovers and share holiday meals. We could trade hand-me-downs and toys as before.

Except David.

If David came for Thanksgiving—say, he must remain with the adults instead of going off and playing with the kids. If we wanted him to play freely, we had to promise direct and constant supervision. Sleepovers were out of the question and unsupervised time with any of their children was verboten.

We pushed back. What had happened? The worst example they could give was that David led their son in a game of loading toys on their treadmill and then turning it on to see the toys fly off the back. Their son wasn’t allowed to play on the treadmill, so our son’s corrupting influence was clear.

David begged for a second chance. Faced with his grief, we tried to talk to the parents, but they would not budge. He wrote them a long and personal letter about how he felt and what they had decided. He was not rude, but he was blunt. They replied with a thank-you note and gave him a gift card.

The parents later told us that they never read David’s note, believing it was disrespectful for a child to address adults so directly. They earnestly claimed that the issue had nothing to do with Asperger's, but was only because of the age difference. Of course that standard didn't apply to siblings or other family friends. Just our socially different son.

David has never forgotten, and observing his heart from outside, I suspect he has never fully recovered. Our good friends rejected our son. They were genuinely surprised that we wouldn’t relegate him to second-class status. They were surprised that we valued our son’s dignity above our family friendship. They thought we would endorse their rationalization.

I am sad that they didn’t have room in their hearts for our whole family. I am sad that my wife is estranged from her college roommate, maid of honor, and one-time best friend. I am sad that our daughters lost years of friendship. But mostly I am sad that David lives with a message that he is unwanted.

No rationalization can make up for that.

Physical Frustrations #2: Protecting those Affected

Many of us on the spectrum struggle with physical environments and tasks. Here are two strategies to help students in classroom and other school settings.

1.                    Help me control environmental stimuli. Light, sound, odors, and textures are not simply preferences as they may be with some others. These environmental factors can be incapacitating. For example, whenever I enter a classroom or meeting space, I always find the direction of the most sunlight and then sit with my back to it. When teachers assign seating, they sometimes forget to consider that sitting by the clock or next to the hallway can be very distracting for me. I can adjust, by shutting down, but this affects my performance in class. The stimuli in even a normal classroom can be too much for me. I need a way to block out at least some of those distracters. Special seating, a “calming spot” or the option to leave can all give me the security I need to cope. Even when I don’t exercise these options, knowing they are there is calming and helps me maintain composure.

2.                    Recognize my physical challenges. Distractions are minor compared to the potential catastrophe of physical performance. In classes where physical competence is expected, I can fail with spectacular and miserable results. P.E. Classes are a major culprit, as motor clumsiness and social awkwardness combine to make me especially inept at team sports. Situations where I am expected to learn by trial and error are an invitation to meltdown. While others might learn from striking out or missing a shot, I spiral into a cycle of futility and frustration—sure that I cannot succeed. This is usually reinforced by the snickering assessment of my peers. Don’t join them. Warn me in advance when you plan to introduce new skills or physical tasks. Give me a chance to prepare for the science labs or art projects that require fine motor control. Plan  roles for me in PE that protect me from being the odd one out. Please.

I wouldn't trade you for your twin...a free-form letter from this Asperger's Dad to my Asperger's son

David,

I wouldn’t trade you for your twin.

 

The day you were born, your average twin disappeared

I spent nine months and more planning for your twin

He was the child with a bright mind and ordinary senses

Certainly he would be above average, but not too far

He was predictable and normal in every way

•Reading at a normal pace, 

(not instantly like you)

•He would drift from enthusiasm to interest

(without your intense commitment)

•He would see some possibilities and creativities

(but not all of them)

 

When I planned for your twin, I failed to plan for you.

 

I didn’t expect your amazing powers of perception.

Your ability to find mistakes in every textbook

Your ability to hear a ticking clock from across the room

Your ability to detect minute differences in fabrics

Your care and compassion for people who don’t expect it

 

I didn’t know a person could be so creative, finding music in materials, a rainbow in paint swatches…

 

Your insight and intelligence were a complete surprise.  You think on such a different level

 

I planned for a child with normal senses—with dull hearing and a soft touch.  

I didn’t know to hope for someone with super-sensitivity and super intelligence.

 

It took me years to figure out that we had David, not your twin.  

But knowing that, I wouldn’t trade you in.

 

Dad

 

Physical Frustrations #1: My Body Betrays Me

Asperger’s syndrome is a neurological condition.  It isn’t a psychological disorder like depression or anxiety that might go away with time and therapy.  Asperger’s and other Autism Spectrum disorders are in a category the American Psychiatric Association labels Pervasive Developmental Disorders.  The name itself reveals that this syndrome is a permanent, physiological condition. We have general motor clumsiness, especially for large-muscle coordination.  This is part of why we tend to dislike and avoid sports, especially team sports which put our social and physical clumsiness on display.  

It may be hard to see, but those of us with Asperger’s have a disability.  It may be masked by superficial normalcy, or adequate intelligence, but we are disabled just the same.  Most of us with Asperger’s also have overly effective senses. In fact, Asperger’s Syndrome is often comorbid with Sensory Integration Deficiency or Sensory Defensiveness, conditions that arise from a nervous system that is too proficient. Every sense can give us trouble. For many with Asperger’s, sounds are the biggest distraction.  Ticking clocks, booming pipes, buzzing fluorescent lights and the 60-cycle hum of electrical equipment can be as intolerable for us as fingernails on an old-fashioned chalkboard may be to you.  Imagine trying to attend to a lesson, read a book or concentrate on a test while someone was dragging fingernails down a chalkboard. Would it be enough to tell yourself, “just ignore it.”  “Just ignore it.” is the universal first response when someone with Asperger’s raises a sensory complaint, but that just isn’t possible.  Part of the syndrome is an inability to selectively block out undesirable stimuli.  My personal issues tend more toward tactile sensitivity.  I cannot wear any shirt with a perceptible tag in the collar.  Clothing with “rough” or “scratchy” fabric is intolerable.  I love the feel of microfiber, flannel and silk, but don’t ever want rough nylon, wool or textured cotton against my skin.  It drives me crazy.  We Aspies know that some forms of lighting, or glare from surfaces can have the same effect.  We sometimes change our seating or request to draw blinds or shades to even out the lighting.  I don’t mind fluorescents, but I always sit with my back to windows if I can. Even on overcast days I wear sunglasses.  Smells and taste are less likely to show up as classroom distractions, but it might help to know that people with Asperger’s sometimes have a condition called Synesthesia, where sensory input is crossed up.  In that condition, intense colors can evoke smells, abrupt sounds can causes visual hallucinations etc.  If I tell you something like that is happening, please take it seriously and help me adjust.