What Children Who Have Autism Taught Me About the World

When I told people what one of my jobs was, the reactions usually included the following responses.

"Wow.  You're a Saint."

"Wow.  That sounds hard."

"Wow.  I could never do that."

"Wow.  You should get paid more for that."

But I can't imagine NOT being a Behavior Therapist, working with kiddos who have Autism.  Yes, it was hard.  But the lessons I learned were invaluable.  I learned more from my kids than I ever taught them.

I walked through a lot of life with those kids in two years.  We had conversations about bullying, marriage, divorce, new siblings, and the unfairness of life.

There is something beautiful about children who have no filters.  At all.  Most of my clients would regularly speak their mind.  And I loved it.

One of the last conversations I had with one of my clients before I left my position at the autism center was about how he wanted to create a place where kids could train dragons and fly on them as a part of their therapy (think How to Train Your Dragon).  And I desperately wanted to help him make those dreams a reality. Maybe in heaven someday.  I desperately tried in all these conversations about things that this world says are impossible to encourage the dreamer within.  Life is hard enough for these kids.  Who am I to tell them that their dreams can't be a reality?

Nothing was impossible to them.  The world was open to anything.  But it was also fraught with frustration.

Never have I met people in my life more committed to persevering through hard days.  And for those kids, every day is a hard day.

There were many times where my clients and I would have much rather taken naps on big fluffy pillows or in our ball pit than worked for the millionth time to conquer the great task of using a fork, or correctly saying vocabulary words.  But we never gave up.

Every day is a fight for children with autism.  A fight to exist in a world that feels very harsh to them, a world that they do not fit in to or understand.  Normal tasks seem impossible, and harsh looks to tantrums and protests in the grocery store are reminders that people judge before they understand.

One day my clients would tell me they thought I was pretty and that I was awesome.  And the next day they would cuss me out.  I had to learn how to forgive and forget.  Every.  Single.  Day.

I learned to put up and take down a shield of protection in a matter of seconds.  I learned how to encourage, and how to confront.

I learned how to live my life better because of these kids.  And now I understand a whole different world.

People with special needs, and those who support them are heroes.  Nobody talks about it enough, but literally every day is a battle from sun up to sun down to exist in a world that feels extremely harsh and unfair.

I learned about a mission field I didn't even know existed.  Do you dare to enter it?  Do you dare to enter a world of punches, kicks, bites, scratches and screams mixed with the best hugs you'll ever receive, amazing acts of kindness and loyalty, and moments of immense triumph to love someone who is fighting a disorder that they didn't ask for and certainly don't want, but one that can run their life?

Do you dare to seek to see the soul within the next screaming child you hear in the grocery store, and hope for that child and their parents that the real child underneath thrives above their disease?

These children are not autistic.  I refuse to label them as such.  They were born into this world with a disease that they battle every day, but it does not define who the ARE.

They are fighters.  And the world would be a better place if we could learn to fight half as hard as they do every single day.