Gift #3:   Self-Honesty

We have spent the past month exploring the many ways that life as a parent of an individual with autism can enrich our lives, and we will wrap up this series with one final gift—self-honesty.

For many of us, a simple reflection of the word honesty implies a refusal to lie or to speak words with the intent to deceive. I have always said that persons with ASD are the most honest individuals I know…to a fault sometimes…. Just last week, my 9 year-old offspring who has autism took a long earnest look at me and said, “You know, you don’t look anything like the same person without your makeup.” I thanked him kindly for the insight, and gently informed him that for future wife-seeking reference, this was the sort of information we might file away in our thoughts under “P” for “Private” only. As always, he listened to my advice with great intrigue and interest (especially since he has his eye on a particular girl at school), knowing that my words in this regard are always intended to positively assist him as he is beginning his lifelong navigation of the Hidden Social Curriculum of life.

Thinking deeper on the concept of honesty, we recognize that there is far more to this character trait than merely the absence of speaking untruths. It also encompasses being honest with ourselves and others about who we truly are and what we are all about. This is one of the most amazing gifts that individuals with ASD of all ages and all along the spectrum possess that simply alludes many of us in the supposedly neurotypical world–the ability to represent themselves for who they truly are–no proverbial makeup…no masks…no duplicity of character. While the words of my son that I shared above could have been innocently uttered by virtually any child, typical or otherwise, typical children very quickly learn the unspoken rules of social engagement–and with that soon enough comes the veil or mask that so many of us wear over our souls for a myriad of personal reasons. In the figurative sense, many of us don’t look anything like the person we truly are without our makeup. We not only attempt to deceive others, we often attempt to deceive ourselves.

Humans are the only living beings who possess the ability to experience fear or concern of what others might think about us.  Some, more than others live daily consumed by what the “neighbors might think” or of sharing who they genuinely are for fear of being ostracized, rejected, or simply because they perceive that they fall short in character compared to others around them.

I once overheard a conversation in an airport in which a mother returning from a business trip was being greeted by her husband and child at the gate. Appalled by the fact her husband had allowed their small child to choose his own clothing, she stated, “Good grief, just look at your clothes! What in the world will people think?!” A much older (and wiser) gentleman standing nearby said, “People will think he dressed himself!”

If our children are to socially succeed in life, it is no doubt essential to acquire the skill of tempering ones words under many circumstances–especially in regard to observations such as how much weight your mother-in-law has gained since your last visit, or the fact that your employer appears to be sporting a comb-over with the hair. Necessary social caveats such as these are the rationale many of us use to justify our wearing of “Public Makeup” to extents far beyond that which is needed or healthy to maintain positive human relationships. While we often hang onto our air of pretense in the name of kindness or the protection of the feelings of others, beyond the most basic social niceties, it is often our own pride, ego, or insecurities we are seeking to protect or hide.

People who wear masks,wear them for a wide array of reasons. On my own behalf, growing up and throughout young adulthood, I was an extraordinarily shy, soft-spoken person who rarely, if ever, spoke her turn–even when it truly was my turn. I drifted along life’s current unsure of myself and what I had to offer the world–waiting for someone smarter or more worthy than myself to give me the right answers. I never felt truly secure in expressing myself to others, for fear that others might see me for who I really was–insecure and not quite good enough. So I just smiled and let others lead the way. For me, becoming a parent of a child with autism changed all that. Not only was I left to my own devices to figure out the “right answers” for my child’s course of treatment–I quickly learned that at that time, no one else had any answers, and there was really no current to ride. At 30 years-old, out of necessity, I finally put off my mask of insecurity, fear, and concern about what others thought. Through this experience, as well as with interactions with countless individuals with autism of all ages and all walks of life, I have learned the value and joy of being comfortable with who I am, and not only accepting others at face value, but being okay with knowing others can choose to accept me or choose not to–and the world will still continue to turn regardless. Whether out of fear, pride, or perceived self-preservation, outside the world of ASD, unfortunately many of us just aren’t comfortable enough with ourselves or one another to go through life just being ourselves regardless of the setting or the audience.…too scary…too revealing…too risky…

While my son is still just a child, based upon my experience with many adults with ASD, I feel confident that he will likely retain one of the greatest gifts that autism has to offer–the intrinsic predisposition to just be himself. Unconditionally. I will most certainly continue to advise him regarding observations worth commenting on, and those best kept to ourselves–but I must never lose sight of that invisible boundary that gloriously sets him apart him from those of us who continue to hide behind our makeup. My hope is that he will always sing in the shower like nobody is listening, dress like he dressed himself, and love like nobody can reject him…and I don’t ever want to do anything to change that.