Do You Know a “Kick-Ass Autism Dad”?
So many moms do such a fantastic job of helping fellow parents understand what it feels like to have a child with autism. It’s not quite as common to hear from the dads, is it? (Of course, there are great exceptions, like Autism Daddy.)
A writer I’ve worked with, whose 5-year-old son has what his doctor describes as a “severe” autism, alerted me to her husband’s new blog, which was created during a weekend he spent in a Milwaukee hotel. A “sane-cation,” he called it, because he was starting to feel like he was losing his mind: “My wife checked me in yesterday because she could see–even if I could not–that I needed to get away. To get away from the three hours of sleep a night. To get away from random screams that could be words but for some neural-gastrointestinal-immunological quirk. To get away from the hours of my son literally crawling the walls as I sit in impotence and despair. To get away from autism, even if only for two days and two nights.”
The getaway (and I use that term very loosely) did provide some clarity: “Autism culture–rightly–focuses on concentrating not on who your child could have been, but on who your child is: difference not deficiency. I believe in this culture, but I wasn’t ready for it… I needed to mourn, to release the anguish that comes whenever our visions of our lives create dissonance with the reality of our lives.”
And then he zeroed in on what he feels is the biggest difference between moms and dads whose children have autism: “[Men] cannot speak with one another. We cannot speak with our larger families. We feel racked by guilt as we look at our wives and just can’t pull it together, can’t be strong in the ways they need us to be. We self-destruct. Drink. Smoke. Cheat. Scream. Run. We need to mourn. We need to talk…”
Finally, he explained how he saw his new role: “Mourning is about transition. I’m transitioning now… I will move on. I will become a ‘Kick-Ass Autism Dad.’ For my autistic son, my neurotypical son, my wife, my larger family, I will move forward. For other autism dads, I will move forward, say the things that we shouldn’t say so that maybe one more dad can hear another voice and can mourn as he should, not as permission to live in despair, but as acknowledgement that things are different than we first imagined.”
For those of you who can relate, what’s your experience been? What resources are available to dads? Do they (or do you) utilize them? Who’s the “Kick-Ass Autism Dad” in your life?
Image: Happy father and son playing on sky background via Shutterstock.
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