Autism Answer: Confessions And Corrections

Me and my youngest brother.

Sometimes I feel annoyed when my youngest brother calls asking if he can come over to my house. He's bored and lonely and is feeling cabin feverish. He's feeling a bit desperate and needy and wants to bring that to my house.

But then I feel annoyed with myself for being annoyed with him. I remind myself to be honored that my youngest brother calls me asking if he can come over. That he is comfortable being vulnerable with me.

Sometimes I feel the heavy weight of responsibility being his one friend in town. He has asked over and over for help making friends and I give and I give, exhaustively searching for a way to help him get it. A way for him to get friends other than just me.

But then I feel the heavy realization that I am being cruel. That my brother isn't my responsibility, he feels and worries and wants and is being responsible for himself by asking me for help. I remind myself to feel the love and joy and miracle of being his friend and living separately in the same town. And it is a miracle. He has his own apartment, that was not expected of him from anyone (except, of course, my mom who believes in making miracles and therefore has made a beautiful career of it). And I live nearby, that was never my plan. Sure, living near family always has been. But not small-town Texas, not living near only one brother. Yet, here we are and we have grown close in ways I never would have imagined because of it.

Sometimes I feel bad that my knee-jerk reactions to my youngest brother are often unkind and self-centered. I wonder if my own meanness knows no bounds, is never-ending. Just when I have discovered a prejudice or mean bit of myself and cleaned it up, I find another. But then I remind myself of the millions of other knee-jerk reactions I've faced head-on, choosing to practice a new way with purpose, and how they then turned into true authentic thoughtful automatic reactions. I think of the fun I've had tweaking, editing, discovering, and changing my beliefs, my reactions, myself.

Together my brother and I talk about the value of forever learning and creating and moving forward. The only mistake really would be to not notice what we react to and how, and to not find thoughtful ways to change with purpose.

My brother and I make an awesome team and help each other out in the most wonderful and important of ways!

I'm a grateful sister!!

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook) 
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INVITATION: I have included a great many stories of growing up with my brothers in my book, Spinning in Circles and Learning from Myself: A Collection of Stories that Slowly Grow Up. There are also stories of me as a mom, me as a daughter, and me as a younge woman trying to figure it all out; life, myself, the world, what exactly it means to be a good person. One thing all my stories have in common is a confession and correction style. I love to be almost dangerously candid about my mistakes while offering an excited idea for how I solved them. I hope you will consider reading my book and sharing your thoughts with me. You don't have to be dangerously candid, but you can be! Hugs, hugs, hugs! ~Tsara 

Autism Answer: My Boys And Their Beautiful Autism

Author's Note: I've pulled this one from the archives. Originally published in 2011 on OpEdNews.com as a diary entry I thought it would be fun to revisit. My brother and I flipping through pages of old photo albums and reminiscing over the Thanksgiving holiday. I felt it would be fun to invite you into some of those memories. (CONFESSION: Okay, the truth is I wanted an excuse to post this picture I found that is one of my absolute favorite photos of my two youngest sons. I searched my blog for this piece I had known I'd written - the one you are about to read - so that I could add the picture, but apparently, I had only published this piece on OpEdNews. So, I had the fun excuse of publishing both the picture and the story!) I hope you enjoy my memory. I KNOW you'll enjoy the photo! Happy holiday season!! ~Tsara

Declyn & Shay, my youngest sons.

My Boys And Their Beautiful Autism 

(written in 2011)

Having four boys is a wonderfully large amount of work and worry. It is the greatest way to force yourself into a world of self-motivation, observation, and priority changing. I love the challenges and changes that have become a part of my life as a result and especially appreciate the guidance I have been given along the way. Sharing the stories, learnings, and laughter is another great way to solidify my own ideas and maybe even help other moms who might feel a little stuck. So for this website, I would love remember the beginning of my journey with my two youngest sons.

Shay is my second youngest. From the moment he came into the world we knew there was something different about him. The usual "It's a boy!" was replaced with my mom's unsure "It's a ...baby!" (My mom delivered three of my four sons.) He was not deformed, my mom's uncertainty did not come from any actual physical confusion on the baby's part but my mom's extremely reliable intuition. She felt the difference in my newest son and prepared me from the start. And we lovlingly laughed from the start!

He turned out to be the perfect baby. Where my older two were rambunctious and stubborn, insisting always that mommy do everything, never accepting help from other adults, Shay was quiet and happy to accept love and snuggles from the nearest loving arms. As he grew he remained comfortable with all of the adults in his life. He would even spend the night with my sister and never miss me. I started to wonder if there was something wrong with me and my relationship with him. How was it that he could just accept aunt or grandma and not need me? My other boys would never have accepted anyone else in so many of the situations where Shay seemed content. My heart worried for months before I voiced my concern. Of course, by then the concerns had piled up. Shay was often dealing with asthma , played alone for long periods of time with small dinosaurs and train parts (esp. Thomas the Train), loved the sensory delight of tapping sticky things on the end of his fingers, and by the age of four was still not talking. 

I did the usual, took him to doctors. They said to wait and see, some kids are late bloomers. In the meantime my mom (who had adopted four autistic boys and guided all but one into independence) decided to use this opportunity to learn sign language. What an amazing family I have! Both my mom and sister took a course while I got over my made up fear that Shay and I needed to work on our relationship, by working on our relationship. I realized that with him not needing me the way his brothers had I actually started pulling away, feeling rejected. I quickly stopped that.

By the time he was four we were signing words with our hands in front of our mouths, making language fun and were soon listening to Shay voice his wants. I don't think it took more than a month. Not to mention I had learned the important lesson of allowing Shay to be different than his brothers in the way he loved me and that gave us a different but equally special bond. As I write this he is eleven years old and at school with other eleven-year-olds. His daydreaming drives his teachers crazy and there have been times I could have had him labeled as ADD or Autistic if I thought it would benefit him, he toe-walks that line and, admittedly, I have wondered off and on about the benefits of a label for him. Over and over I have decided against it. My mom does neurofeedback with him when he is struggling to focus and that always gives him the reminder that there is a tool out there for when he feels overwhelmed. He has had a girlfriend for three years and they have made plans for their future that he is quite sure he can make happen. When it comes to his dream of being a stay at home dad with his own restaurant Shay never loses focus.

In so many ways Shay's differences have enriched my life and given me tools for parenting my other children. But nothing compares with what it has done for my youngest son , Declyn. 

Declyn was born in 2000 and for some reason was vaccinated strait out of the womb. I didn't remember this happening with any of my other children but it didn't really concern me since I am one of those fools who tends to figure that the professionals know what they are doing. My mom is not. She paid close attention and although I could hardly miss the fact that my newest baby never slept, cried any time I put him down and would go to no other grown up comfortably, I wasn't the first to notice his complete lack of eye contact . My mom pointed it out when Declyn was only about five months old. No matter what position we held him in he would focus somewhere just beyond our smiling eyes. So we found more positions and more exciting ways to grab his attention and encourage him into forgetting that he was uncomfortable with eye contact. Before long he was more than happy to look into our eyes and enjoy the fun reactions this got him! Our arms were exhausted and our eyes and cheeks tired from all the smiling but we ended up with stronger arms, a child who gained the skill and benefits of eye contact and an addiction to smiling. Not to shabby! 

Declyn's lack of eye contact was not the only sign that he may have gone down the autism path, he also had (and still has) a tendency towards vomiting (he can't eat outside or look at ugly things while around food), it was years before he became remotely comfortable in social situations and he is still quite uncomfortable meeting new people. But at nine years old he is in fourth grade, brings home great report cards and is Mr. Popularity. Every morning he begs to stay home, even cries sometimes or on rare occasions will throw up, so the transition from home to social situations is still big for him but he handles it and sometimes my heart can't take asking it of him so I let him stay home. Just sometimes.

My two youngest sons are still colored with autism. It is a beautiful part of their personalities and a gift that has been a catalyst for learning and laughing in our family. 

A gift that we are going to continue to unwrap together.

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UPDATE: Wow, that was fun to read again! And how neat to see the "them" they still are, now at ages nineteen and seventeen, while also knowing how far they've come! How well they've chosen to embrace and harness and understand and value their differences and challenges. Man, I am one lucky, impressed, grateful, happy mom! Thank you for joining me on this trip down memory lane. ~Tsara

Autism Answer: Gratitude Without Words - A New Adventure!

Backyard fun with family.

"Thanks, Tsara. That was really fun. I guess you were right. You don't need to get out of town to have a good time."

"Nope," I smiled, parking my car in front of my brother's apartment building. "You just need to spend time with people you like. Oh, and who like you."

Rye - my youngest brother - agreed. Climbing out of my car into the dark spring evening he came around to my side, an extra bounce in his already bouncy step. "What a great night," he announced to no one in particular. He gave me a fun, awkward hug through my window and headed up the walkway to his apartment door.

Driving away I reached over to my son and gave his hand a squeeze. A fun night with family has a way of making me feel emotional and almost annoyingly loving.

My son knows me well and gave my hand a kiss before placing it softly, but with finality, on my own lap.

What a wonderful way to complete our spring break!

Driving back to our house, barely more than a mile away from my brother's apartment, I thought about how nicely the day had unfolded itself.

I woke up, brewed and sipped coffee, and called my brother. "Hey, Rye. I don't know if we're going to be able to go to the movies in Corsicana today."

"Bummer," he offered, somewhat unconvincingly. I easily picked up on his true want. Life in a small town can get a little bit boring, but going to the bigger towns generally means spending money on doing something. Not because you want to do the thing so much as because you want to feel fresh and new.

Rye spends a lot of his time trying to feel like he's doing something interesting. He's not very good (yet!) at seeing adventure when it isn't wearing bells and whistles.

So I invited him to come over for a backyard fire, hot dog and smores provided by me. That tickled our adventure bone a little.

We spent the evening laughing and reminiscing. "Remember driving all over Canada and the US? Performing in prisons? Remember Disney World? Or the time we took the train from Toronto to Winnipeg?" Planning and imagining. "I like to picture myself traveling for work. I'm going to take myself on a vacation to another country. I don't know how yet, but I know one day Shay will own some kind of dragon."  

"Man, we do a lot of really cool thigs," we could both be heard saying often into the night. Sometimes we said it under our breath with wonder, and sometimes we declared it to the world like a promise.

We gave the adventure of being alive bells and whistles last night!

I tell my brother often how lucky I am to have him. How much value I get from spending time with him, particularly when he's willing to let conversation get a little bit farther than only about him.

Last night I felt that gratitude and connection strongly again. But instead of bringing it up, instead of thanking him like it was a great favor, I allowed it to just be. I chose, with purpose, to honor it by taking it for granted.

I think that was the right choice.

Giving gratitude is a great gift; for the giver and the receiver.

But holding back an attempt at giving it the right words in order to allow the gratitude to stand for itself can be a gift, too.

My brother and I enjoyed the gift of gratitude in a new way last night. Without me trampling all over it with words and explanations.

It was a wonderful adventure! 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook) 

 

Autism Answer: My Favorite Tip For Healthy, Happy Relationships

One of my favorite pieces of relationship advice:

Know the difference between annoying and a problem.

I have been happily married for sixteen years. My husband is about as different from me as humanly possible and yet we haven't, so far, had a fight - although debates and

Me and my hubby.

disagreements are as common as stubbed toes and itchy mosquito bites! I honestly believe one of the biggest reason we don't fight (aside from trusting my decision to want him by my side) is an ability to know the difference between something that is annoying and something that is a problem.

All of my relationships are made happier and more authentic because of this! As a mom, sister, daughter, and friend, I am able to breath deep and truly listen, or shrug off an almost angry feeling, when I recognize that my autistic brother or my socially anxious son or my protection oriented husband is merely doing something that I don't like or that I find annoying, and not actually creating a problem. Also, I have learned to recognize and deal with problems when they do arise (because, of course, they do) with confidence and a belief in finding an answer.

I'm certain everyone we have a relationship with will annoy us at times.  (Heck, I even annoy myself now and then!) Their beliefs or abilities may clash with our own; creating friction, a need for patience, and the necessary skill of listening with an open mind. I think I found the need to learn this because of my four brothers. My mom adopted them when I was a pre-teen and they were all, to varying degrees, cognitively challenged. They were annoying, but they were not problems. Despite the cruel energy the professionals and neighbors used to tried and say otherwise, arguing that my brothers were actually a problem, my mom insisted they were not.

My mom was right. (Although, I'll argue that the professionals and the neighbors were a problem!)

I'll admit that it took me a while to learn the difference, my mom (who is Lynette Louise aka The Brain Broad, a renowned international mental health expert) exampled and explained it to me creatively and consistently my entire childhood. However, it wasn't until I thought of it simply in those words, "Know the difference between annoying and a problem," that I truly held onto and successfully incorporated the understanding into all of my relationships. It probably helps that the words materialized while my husband was, well, annoying me. Giggle!

This has shifted me in powerful ways! I am now far more eager to work on solving any true problem in my relationships because I've learned to recognize that there aren't many. Also, I have gained important skills of debate and discussion during the more annoying issues that pop up and can be fun to learn with. 

I have gotten rather good at making all of my relationships healthy thanks to this awareness of annoyances vs problems;  my relationships are healthy, but that doesn't mean they all last long. Some of them are rather short. Sometimes problems are bigger or more prevalent than annoyances, and that can mean saying goodbye. Walking away from a person or a group. But even though some relationships last longer or grow stronger than others, all of my relationships are honest, organic, and built on a foundation of allowing people to be who they are.

My oldest son is getting married next year and I intend, amidst a few other suggestions and relationship tips, to make this one stand out: "Know the difference between annoying and a problem."

I hope he doesn't think I'm being annoying. 

tee hee!

Hugs, smiles, and love!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

My oldest son and his lovely wife-to-be!!

AUTHOR EDIT: Thanks to a thoughtful comment/question on my Facebook Page - asking for help knowing the difference between an annoyance and a problem - I thought I'd add my personal definition here.  

An annoyance would be when something makes life inconvenient or uncomfortable vs a problem which makes life dangerous (physically and/or emotionally) or stops people from expressing their own personal beliefs and personality.  

 I hope that helps! Feel free to play with the concept in order to come up with your own definition. Hugs!!

Autism Answer: About Writing

What I love most about writing: 

Those moments when somehow, through struggle and a painful desire to do so, I discover a cadence and the words that say exactly what I'm trying to say.  When I write a sentence or a phrase that brings forth the specific feeling and meaning I'm trying to uncover.  It's like discovering a rare and perfect gem, one you imagined in a dream, on a never-ending length of beach. Except you didn't just discover it; because of your seeking, you are part of it's creation. What a fantastic and addictive feeling! 



Autism Answer: 

My mom is renowned international mental health expert Lynette Louise (aka The Brain Broad). Her journey and unique skills have grown organically from the soil of her unusual mind. As a little girl she was consistently misdiagnosed and considered a brilliant challenge to the grown ups in her world. As a woman she adopted and adored several cognitively challenged children; together they healed and progressed in creative yet consistently authentic to themselves ways. As a woman, she is a powerful passionate advocate and healer. Because I am her daughter, this should have all come pretty naturally and easily to me as well. Right? Well, nope! I pushed her strangeness away and then tried to understand it and then pushed it away again. Until I became a mom myself. It was with mother motivation that I found the ability to nurture what is already there while working my butt of to hone, reveal, and coax it until it shines. It was with writing that understanding filled me even more. It was writing and honing sentences and trimming ideas to their authentic selves that gave me the gift of openly exploring my mom's teachings, customizing them, and making them my very own. 


My biggest dream as a writer: 

Before I actually began writing in public I dreamed of having a shelf full of novels penned by me while I imagined enough of an audience to be considered by the world a real writer. Now, though, my biggest dream has shifted. I was surprised to discover, as I was writing for a possible audience, that being a writer in my own opinion is enough for me, so the audience no longer plays such a significant role in my dream as a writer; although, I adore and imagine them always. My biggest dream now is to have a shelf full of novels that I know are worthy of the stories they tell penned by me. Stories I can honestly say I gave my best service and ability to as a writer. 


Autism Answer:

I watched my mom teach my brothers skills while she nourished and explored their habits and interests. I watched as she celebrated successes that I could hardly see. Until, as a sister, I tried really hard. She didn't seem to be molding them into "normal" people but instead encouraging them to become who they were; while insisting and believing they could gain seemingly impossible-for-them skills along the way. She believed in them and they showed her they could stand on their own, confident in their true selves. As a mom and writer I learned to do this as well. My sons aren't successful only when they make the progression from school to job to living on their own to raising a family to retirement. Nope! They are successful when they are comfortable, confident, and creating their lives in a thoughtful way that matches who they are. Success is kindness and confidence in their true selves. My writing isn't meant to fit into a cookie cutter neighborhood of stories but rather to become what it was meant to be. Still, it is important for me to learn the skills necessary to encourage it stand on it's own. To be confident in it's true self.



What I wish I had known about writing starting out: 

Well, this is one of those questions, isn't it? I mean, I had been told most of the things I wish I knew, but without actually diving in and writing I couldn't quite know them for myself. I was told that writing is not only about the story and not only about the mechanics. But I had to dive into the world of writing myself to truly know the importance of punctuation and format in tandem with story and inspired thought. I was told that every writer writes for different reasons and in different ways, but I had to write for different reasons and in different ways myself before I knew the truth that my way was valid and right; so long as I was writing. Writers  told me the importance of completion; to write and write and write but to, also, come to the end. But it wasn't until I finally finished my first piece of writing (just before my 30th birthday!) that I understood the valuable writing-skill of tying it up and giving it away to the world. Of knowing you've done it; you've written that screenplay, that story, that novel. You're always going to be "writing" but now, also, you've "written". There are so many more things I sort of wish I knew before I began, but in truth I really couldn't know. Not until I knew from doing. Although there is one thing I wish I had believed before I began writing. One thing that might have made a difference for me is: Be friends with other artists. Ideally, with other writers. There is so much they can do for you! They can understand without it needing to be said. They can pull you out of that vulnerable, lonely place that writing often leads us to. They can suggest publications and tell you what to expect. And you can do all of that for them, giving you the ever-valuable feeling of knowing you are valuable. 



Autism Answer (What I Wish I Had Known): 
 
Well, this is the thing, isn't it? I just shared the truth that my mom told and showed and exampled for me so many things about parenting, autism, differences, and disability. Yet, until I began parenting, I couldn't quite know it for myself. I had been taught that people aren't only about their uniqueness or their ability to fit in; there is a necessary relationship between the two. Yet until I began parenting my own four sons with challenges and differences, until I was diving deep into the waters of wanting them to be who they are while wanting to show them how to be part of the world, I couldn't quite grasp the truth of it. It had been said to me that different parents can parent well in different ways and for different reasons. But I had to be a parent myself, I had to struggle through the need to do it "right" only to discover that I had to do it my way, and differently even day to day, situation to situation, child to child, with a consistency that remained always at the base of things, before I could grasp and know the validity of different parenting styles. I had been told and shown that one day I would have to let go. I had seen my mom let my brothers move away, gently pushing some of them and promising them they were ready. I was there, helping and scared, as they practiced their skills and grew their abilities in the outside world. I saw as mom loved them while they failed and while they succeeded. Yet it wasn't until my own sons grew older and I had to begin the process of letting go that I truly understood. You are never not parenting, but you have to believe that they are able to become who they were meant to be without you, too. Indeed, they must. It is the only way. And, as with writing, I think it is helpful to find a few friends who get it. Who have been there. Who can understand without words. I have those friends. They are few, but they are more than enough. They give me the gift of their understanding while asking me to do the same. 

Autism Answer: About Writing 

My brothers, my mother, my sons, my friends; autism has shown itself in a variety of ways in my life. So I have grown to see people in a variety of ways. Interestingly, it has helped me shed the desire for labels. The variety is just too much. Outliers are my world and though they do fit into groups in a lot of ways (which can be a wonderful way to be understood) they don't fit only into specific spaces and can't be filed under restrictive labels. In this way my writing had been blessed. I don't feel a need to be an autism blogger or a fiction writer or an opinion peddler. I write to explore and share my authentic self while I keep the audience in mind. My mom taught my brothers to be themselves while caring about the world. I ask my sons (and myself) to do the same. But because autism has made so much of that harder and even painful, I've opened myself up to see that caring about the world often means showing it how it can change. Giving it stories that will ask it to shift. 

I don't always do this well - as a sibling, parent, or writer - but I hope always to be brave enough to do it. 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

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RANDOM: My book, Spinning in Circles and Learning from Myself: A Collection of Stories that Slowly Grow Up, is not one of those novels I dream of writing. Instead it's a collection of mostly true stories, a book that was an important step for me. I needed to have a book published to push myself past the fear of my first book being published. I'm now working on my first novel. With excitement and far less fear, largely because it isn't going to be my first book!

Autism Answer: The Cruelty In My Kindness (aka Never Give Up)

Not long enough ago I was like too many others. I assumed that people with severe cognitive challenges or neurodevelopmental disorders were to be taken care of as different and unable; the more challenged they were, the less like me I thought of them as. Sure, I knew they had thoughts and stuff, but I couldn't imagine that we ever had anything in common or that their ideas might be related to desires common with the majority of us. 

But because I was "nice" I wouldn't name call or bully or make fun of people with disorders, disabilities, and challenges.  Nope, not me! I would nervously take care of them and take them to the park. Easily slipping into conversations with the people I met there, explaining why this brother of mine or this person I was volunteering my time with was behaving the way they were. I'd go ahead and make up reasons because I didn't think there were any real understandable reasons. Together my new friend and I would smile condescendingly at the person I had been nice enough to bring to the park. 

Ouch!  
Ouch, ouch, ouch!

Friends, I was in the position to grow and share and teach the world so many times, but I was never up for the task. Though, if you asked me at the time I would have thought myself teaching kindness. 

And, you know, it's not like I didn't have anyone showing me otherwise. My mom has always, always, always exampled and taught and explained the error of my ways; the error of so many people's ways. Yet, because she was not the norm, because her belief in the abilities, feelings, and similarities that cognitively challenged adults and children have to everyone else in the world was rarely agreed to, I chose to nod at my mom with equal parts worry and condescension. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly I began to see the truth behind my mom's teachings and the cruelty of my supposed kindness. That doesn't feel good, you know? Revealing yourself to have been taking the easy road at the expense of others. Because for a lot of years that's what I was doing. People would applaud my patience and I wouldn't have to make them uncomfortable the way mom did, by insisting they treat all people as equals. 

Slowly, slowly, slowly is not great. But it's better than never. And I am different now, though not always comfortably so. The good news is that my new uncomfortable-ness comes from knowing that my challenged loved ones and friends are equal to me and are not "other" or even very different. If my brain was behaving similarly to theirs, I would likely make similar choices as them. So, I feel nervous because I want to be their friend but I don't have a great track record for understanding how. 

In time, I hope to get over this uncomfortable-ness that I am proud of. Because I plan to keep on practicing. 

Don't give up on anyone, friends! Your children, your spouse, your neighbor, yourself.

Slowly isn't always as wonderful as now, but it is wonderful.

And slowly can sometimes equally as wonderful, when it's consistent and coupled with the intention of gathering so much love and learning along the way. 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

*If you're interested in learning more about my family, and their contributions to my journey of discovery and growing up, I invite you to get a copy of my book Spinning in Circles and Learning from Myself: A Collection of Stories that Slowly Grow Up (Available at Amazon, Archway Publishing, Barnes & Noble, BAM, Powell's, and more. Or check your local library! Request it, even!) 

Autism Answer: I Don't Know What It's Like To Be You

Rain in my yard

Right now I live in a poor neighborhood in a small, old, run down trailer house with my black much older than me mechanic husband, my big white gay son, my anti-social overly passionate mixed-race son, and my book reading white skinned woman hippie self. I sit and have coffee in my kitchen (avoiding the holes in the floor) with my socially struggling once-upon-a-time autistic brother. Together we talk often about how much we miss my brown skinned half Arab older sons who have moved away to another state.

I rarely notice all of that. Mostly, I live in my house with my family and hang out with my brother. 

But I would be lying if I didn't admit that I've changed and grown because of learning from

My hubby working with our boys

the experiences my black mechanic older husband shares with me, and the situations my white gay son tells me he's been in, and the reasons my overly passionate mixed-race son reveals for his anti-social behavior. My once-upon-a-time autistic brother relates realities that might have remained unknown to me while my brown skinned boys make choices to not grow their beards when certain racial tensions are high.  I'm certain, too, that my family has shifted when hearing me share stories of my book reading hippie-woman experiences.

Meanwhile, we've all learned things with and because of our neighbors who deal with poverty in vastly different ways. 

We are all different and should never try to change that. 

I believe in integration without the expectation of assimilation.

But we are all the same, too. We are all one race of alive beings on one alive planet. We all live together, and that's not negotiable. We can choose to do so with curious interest and love, or with mistrust and judgments. It's completely and totally up to us. 

As individuals and as society - which is made up of individuals who teach each other - we have the responsibility and power to tell the story of who we are and how we live together. Stories need controversy and obstacles to be intriguing, but they do not need "bad guys". (Although, if you want a story with bad guys you need not look further than most large man-made systems and corporations. As they grow they become dangerous.)

I live in a poor neighborhood with my diverse family. Together we share with each other how we experience the world. Although our beliefs often clash, always they are valid and valuable. 

The story of my life is filled with controversy, love, worry, life, death, hope, hurt, and diversity. There are not "bad guys" in my story to distract from the stuff that matters most to me; there are flavors and feelings.  

However, I'll admit that my husband believes in bad guys, so his story does include them. Yet we live together and let our clashing beliefs make a music we can both dance to. We find ways to harmonize and change both of our stories by sharing and shifting together. 

It's not always easy. But that's why I know we don't need bad guys to fill our world with interesting twists and turns! Loving each other and insisting on learning together is filled with intrigue and interesting plot twists!

The goal is not to pretend we aren't different. We are! And it's fascinating! The goal, or my goal at least, is to explore those differences from where we are the same. Where we remember that we are all equally valuable living beings with the same need to be free, accepted, and honored. We all eat, breathe, bleed, think, hope, dream, hurt, and love. But we are all born different, and become different, and are treated different, too.

The people I live with don't know what it's like to be a woman because they aren't women. I don't know what it's like to be a black man in small town Texas. I don't know what it's like to be a young gay man here, either. Or mixed race and passionately sensitive. I can barely imagine how it is to grow up autistic in a world that pities and fears cognitive disabilities and I have no clue what it means to walk around in brown skin with a handsome Arab face in America. But we can do our best to tell each other and listen, and to make necessary changes. We can, and we must. 

We can, we must, and I do. 

I get it wrong, but I do it anyway, hoping to get it right. 

Which is a place where we are all the same. 
We're all hoping to get it right.

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

My husband teaching our youngest son.

Autism Answer: From The Beginning (Diversity and Difference)

My two oldest sons, long ago!

From the beginning my oldest son chose to share everything and borrow everything and believe that everything belonged to everyone. 

From the beginning my second oldest son chose to keep his things safe, rarely use things belonging to others unless given clear permission and believe that everything belonged to someone. 

In the beginning they believed these things with passion, but also like children. Today, they still believe these things with passion, but more like men. 

My oldest son has a socialist style and my second oldest son has more of a libertarian style.
They balance me, my boys. They balance this world. 

We need everyone and every style. When we are open and willing, they balance us. 

They can also enrage and blind us, if we choose to let them. 

But my sons have reminded me, from the beginning, that we can always choose to be balanced. 

When they believed these things, even as children, they demanded to be heard and insisted on having their say, but they also found ways to allow balance. There was anger, but there was an innate belief that we all had a right to be who we were. 

From the beginning, my sons were who they are. It has been my privilege to guide, encourage, learn, and shift with them. 

Let's always allow people to be who they are. Let's always choose to discover and grow rather than force and change. 

I believe in integration without the expectation of assimilation. 

It is challenging and mind-expanding and exciting and bewildering. 

It is wonderful and balanced. 

It is how our nature thrives.

Today is a beginning. 

From this beginning, who are we going to be?

Hugs, smiles, and love!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook) 

 

Autism Answer: On My Brother's Birthday He Is Your Gift

Dar

Today my brother, Dar, turns thirty-five!! 

For over a million reasons my life is better because of Dar. For over a million reasons your life can be better because of Dar! 

My mom was drawn to him and adopted him when he was only three. "He's blind and deaf, he's a feral child, he'll go to the institution when there's room for him," they said. 

I stood quietly watching the small skinny boy run around our house and make strange noises. Then I turned my ten year old gaze on my mom and watched her watch him with love, curiosity, and something different - understanding. She seemed to know what he was saying and doing when it seemed clear to me that he wasn't saying or doing anything. 

I was wrong. Dar was saying too much at once and no one but mom could help him communicate it. 

Mom was right. Mom fought to keep him and to prove his value to himself and to the world. 

The Universe brought them together at first, for them. 

Me and Dar

And then it was for me and my siblings, siblings who grew in numbers and who learned to listen and help

each other.

And then it was for you. Because now my mom and brother know how to tell you important things. Tell you, show you, sing it for you, make it deep and emotive, funny and entertaining. 

Together they are telling us all the things we want and need to know. 

Happy birthday, Dar!!!
I love you more!!! 
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook) 

Visit my mom's websites for much more on how their story helps folks like you and me! 
www.lynettelouise.com / www.brainbody.net 

VIDEO: This music video for my mom's song "Unfinished" stars Dar in the role of himself. This might be the greatest way to celebrate Dar's birthday. Music and my mom are his favorite things! Bonus points if we watch it while eating a stick of butter! tee hee! (Dar really loves butter!!)

Autism Answer: This Face

My heart pounded and fear filtered in with the shower water. I'd gone from blissfully untethered to responsibility, singing to myself in the shower for the first time since my third son was born, to yanked back into the truth of being hugely responsible for more than my own life. Singing in the shower quickly proved a dangerous selfishness. Unaware and no longer interested in whether I was clean in all my places I turned off the shower and grabbed a towel in one sopping wet and fearful motion. I heard it again.

"Shay!! Mom, I have Shay, Shay! Moooooommmm, Shaaaayyyyy!!!"

Running naked and dripping-- both water and breast milk-- into the bedroom where I had left the new baby sleeping I forced myself to smile at Tyran as I took the baby out of his two year old arms and reminded him, "I know you love your baby brother sweetie, but I told you to let him sleep while I was in the shower."

Tyran beamed with love and purpose. "But I love my baby blooder! I want to take care of him when you have a shower!"

Daring to look at the high perch where I had hidden Shay sleeping in his bassinet, hoping to keep him out of sight and mind of Tyran who hadn't been able to stop adoring Shay from the moment he was born, my heart and head shook with the sudden understanding and weight of a love so intense. A love that I understood. Love that gives us the strength and desire to do anything necessary for the receiver of it, even if sometimes it puts everyone - including the one we love - in harms way. 

Picking up the towel and wrapping it around myself I sat down on the edge of the bed to feed Shay while Tyran sat on the floor in-front of me, reaching up to gently tickle his new brother's back. As the pounding of my heart slowed I realized it was me who had been foolish. Next time I would bring the sleeping baby into the bathroom. Hiding him was the idea of a nervous sleep deprived mom. Bringing him and allowing Tyran to sit beside him would be better. I looked at Tyran's intensely love filled face as he continued to trace circles on his baby brother's back and thanked the universe for the problem of too much love.  

Tyran is twenty today and I woke up this morning with that memory, that face filled with purpose and pride, on my mind.

This face.

This face has always shone with passion and intense emotions. Every time this face met a new baby brother or a new baby cousin, it glowed with pride, adoration, and protectiveness. If you told this face that it was wrong about its family being the best family, well, you would see this face transform into a different kind of passion and intensity. You were in trouble!

This face turned twenty today. And this face still shines with passion and intense emotions. It sparkles when cousins-- aka "minions"-- come running toward it. It engages with passion when brothers show up and share new music. It fills a room with joy when cousins throw a leg over the couch and laugh at its antics, its living room performances.

This face, even at twenty, will still turn passionately dangerous if you threaten his beliefs and loved ones. But it's learned over the years not to then threaten you; your beliefs or loved ones.

This face lives too far away from me, which is good -- for now. Because if it was any closer I wouldn't be able to let it go a moment without me smothering (and embarrassing!) it. Right now this face shines with love most of the time for me, and I don't want to make the mistake of tipping it into frustration. I would make that mistake. I know this face, and I know me!

This face was born knowing exactly who it is and what it wants to do. It has spent twenty years passionately proving to itself that it is who it says it is. For the most part, this face is right.

Thanks to the insistence of this face, our family has been celebrated as strong, connected, and better than anything else in the world! And, well, look at that face!!! Of course we believe it!!!

Happy twentieth birthday to my passionate son! 
I love you so freaking much, Tyran!!!

I miss your face every single hour of every single day!!!

Hugs, smiles, and love!!!
Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)