Autism Answer: Smiling - A Sibling Story

I wrote the following story last year for my mom's newsletter, The Loop, after she and my brother visited me in Quebec. I'm in the midst of putting together another edition of The Loop and got a little sidetracked when it occurred to me perhaps it would be fun to share this story here with you. Also, I hope you'll sign up for The Loop so you can always get news and updates and fun stuff first! Follow this link: The Loop   

Me and Dar - Smiling

"Dar, look into the camera with me. Okay, smile!" Sometimes I take selfies with my brother while we wait for mom. She'll be working, or at a health appointment, or in the shower, and we'll be hanging out. We love listening to music together. We enjoy the odd verbal exchange, but his words are most often challenging for me to decipher and mine are most often of the less than inclusive "this is what I think about all these things I'm thinking about" variety. So, I've noticed, I've gotten in the habit of pulling out my phone and bugging him into taking a selfie with me. 

Now, in most of our selfies, Dar is not smiling. Not because he didn't smile, but because he doesn't hold the smile. And by the time I snap a pic, I've missed it.

However, Dar is doing something new.

Well, Dar is doing several things new. Ever since mom and Dar left their house behind and have been transitioning into this new life of travel he's been practicing new and old skills in surprising abundance. But for the purpose of this moment I'm focusing on the way he's practicing holding a smile for the camera.

At the park, Dar loves the swing. A few days before I took the photo you see above, I approached him with my camera - mom was with us, sitting in shade nearby - and asked him to smile. He did, and I snapped a photo a little late to capture it. As usual. But then he smiled again. And held it. I had been about to walk away but, thankfully, I felt his energy and noticed. So, I took another photo. Then he shifted on the swing and smiled toward me again. It was such a familiar smile. Not one I am used to seeing on my brother but the one I am used to seeing on those of us who like to smile for a camera. Not a fake smile, but a held smile. I took more photos.

Over the next few days I noticed it again. At first I wondered why this was a skill he'd bother to work on. But silly me! This whole transit(ion) lifestyle - my mom and brother living in an RV and traveling together - includes Dar and mom speaking, being on camera, sharing what they learn with an audience. So what a brilliant time to practice! Here with me, his silly selfie taking sister!

Dar's smiles, the ones he's always shared, are luminescent and transcendent and infectious. And though they were often long lasting they were rarely held for the camera. I hope, for the sake of everyone, that Dar continues holding those delicious smiles for the camera.

And I love that he's been practicing them with me.

~ 

Follow this link for Autism on the Road videos with mom and Dar: Autism on the Road Playlist

 

Hugs, smiles, and love!!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

Autism Answer: Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, Little Brothers, and Moms

 

 

Me and my brother

His brown eyes seeking, his words profound, his question legitimate, the wish birthing it unreachable: "Why didn't my mom stop drinking? It was just nine months for her, a lifetime for me. My life."

My little brother was sitting across from me at my kitchen table, visiting me on one of his rough days. I could almost never fix the problems but I could sometimes help shift his focus. Which, quite often, served to guide him away from more problems.  

This is such a strong memory for me. Sitting there, impotent, as my youngest brother begged for an explanation while wanting, desperately, a different brain. His brain was working against him again and he was frustrated, exhausted, tired of working so hard to find his way. Always, for over thirty years and more to come, working harder than most to handle and understand common situations, and in large part because his mom drank alcohol while his little baby brain was growing in her womb.
 

Question: are you wondering about our mom? Wondering, maybe, how much drinking went on? Wondering why she was drinking while pregnant? Or wondering if he's my step-brother? Or if he's adopted? Question: Are you thinking things about the mom?

I've recently learned this about myself: I would be.

My brothers are my brothers. I have four of them and they are impressive. It rarely occurs to me that they're adopted. However, when the subject of their fetal alcohol spectrum disorder comes up it occurs to me. More accurately, it occurs to me to mention it.

It didn't used to, but my mom is an international brain change and behavior expert who tends to lead with her experience as a mom. A mom of eight now adult kids, four who had autism and various other co-morbid diagnosis. A mom who has helped all eight of her children become more than professionals or statistics allowed for. Mentioning adoption didn't occur to mom either until too often, when sharing what she learned about teaching people with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) by sharing anecdotes from her life as a mom to my brothers, people would get sidetracked by questions of why she drank while pregnant, or judging her for it, or just thinking about it so much they missed the lesson in the story. So, now she mentions it. Now we mention  it.

NOTE: It is not a bad thing, mentioning the adoption. I'm not trying to say it's unfortunate that we mention adoption. Adoption is beautiful. It is an awesome aspect of who my mom is (the determination, the lengths she went to for my siblings, is so mom) and an intriguing aspect of who my siblings are (they have limited access to their biological story and a mom who went to great lengths to be their mom). Anyone who's grown up in a blended family where some siblings are adopted, or step-siblings, or half-siblings, etc., knows that growing up as a family is simply family. No shame, but rarely does it occur to mention it. If I introduce you to  my brother, I introduce you to my brother. Not my adopted brother. 

 
However, I'm thinking about Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder and biological moms. And my behavior, mentioning the adoption if I'm mentioning the FASD in my brothers, is telling. I don't want people to think my mom is at fault. I don't want them to think she was drinking while pregnant. It's not for sure that they would, but I don't want to risk it.

As I said, I recently learned that I would probably think about the mom.
 

I was invited to review the book Blazing New Homeschool Trails: Educating and Launching Teens with Developmental Disabilities by Natalie Veccione and Cindy LaJoy for Disabled World. (Click this link to read the review.) It was my pleasure! As I read the bio for each author I was surprised. They are homeschool moms to children with FASD. No mention of adoption. I got a flutter in my tummy, "Will they talk about it? Reach out to other moms who might be feeling too guilty about drinking during pregnancy to ask for guidance? Or to even recognize the FASD symptoms in their children because they don't want to see what may have been caused by them?

Now, reading the book I learned the children were adopted. That the question of "do they have FASD?" was a hard question to answer for those families because of adoption. Because their children's birth stories were incomplete and unknown.

But before I learned that, my mind had wandered and wondered. Why? Why had I wondered? Because there is stigma. 

"Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder (FASD) is a brain injury that can occur when an unborn baby is exposed to alcohol. It's a lifelong disorder with effects that include physical, mental, behavioral and learning disabilities. These can vary from mild to severe."

Often people with FASD struggle just enough with learning deficits to feel as though, and be treated as if, they're being defiant. Or not trying hard enough. They're similarly capable to those around them, and indeed often exceed their peers in some areas, but there are areas of entirely real less common challenges that incite low self esteem. And the challenges become far more serious because we are unaware of the physiological problem causing them. 

Often people with FASD struggle enormously with learning deficits and feel completely incapable. They are treated as such. People give up rather than dig in and get to know the unique reasons and workings of the brain. 

Often people with FASD (and their families) fall somewhere in-between and struggle alone.
 

We do want to ask our children to try. We do want to raise the bar. It is the same when living with and teaching someone who has a mild or severe challenge. But understanding, or at least trying to understand, the very real difficulty they are living with that has to do with their brain, not an unwillingness or meanness, can be the difference between helping them grow vs pushing them to self-loathing, addiction, and bullying behavior.

But where FASD is concerned, there is the added hurdle of knowing it could have been avoided. Of knowing not drinking during pregnancy could have meant less difficulties.

My mom says, “You can’t walk gingerly. You have to step in and say I am gong to love you robustly, and we are going to get to the end of this!”

I think that includes being willing to accept that perhaps our children, even the ones that grew in our wombs, may have FASD. We have to make supportive room for moms to ask questions, to not be shamed if they seek ideas from others. To say, I drank while pregnant and now my child struggles with these symptoms, do you have any ideas for me?

At the same time, we continue to remind moms not to drink when they're pregnant.

"It's just nine months for her, but a lifetime for me. My life." My brother would have been best helped had she not drank during pregnancy. But he has also been undeniably helped by having a mom who taught with creativity, a fierce belief in him, and an understanding that though he could certainly learn, he learns differently.

Sitting at a kitchen table visiting my youngest brother, who has his own car, apartment, ideas, and sense of humor, is a delight. I want to help create a world that invites more brothers to the kitchen table. And moms.

We'll sip coffee.

Hugs, smiles, and love!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

 

Autism Answer: Seeking a Safe Way to Be Open and Accepting

 

Me and my Brother

“I just wanted to be nonjudgmental and accepting.”

My brother was looking at me expectantly, his big sister who always had something to say about the things he had to say, and had to wait an uncharacteristically long time for my reply.

His confession had caught me off guard and left me momentarily at a loss for words. I was too deep in a thick fog of feelings that understood and feared and felt and didn't know the right answer.

My brother had been assaulted in his apartment by a man he had opened his door to, despite the late hour and unlikely explanation for it. Of course my brother had opened his door to this stranger knocking at an inappropriate hour with a weird reason, that was who my brother himself often was and didn't he only want people to open their doors to him and hear him out?

Oh, my heart was aching and my ideas lacking.

I find myself wrestling often with this question of balance. Not judging too harshly, being open and accepting and helpful and willing to open doors or accept ones opened to me, while being safe and careful and teaching my children to do the same.

This is a big important thing and once I was able to fight out of the fog of feelings and find words, I admitted as much to my brother.

We talked a long time about how valuable it is to strive for a world that isn't so focused on defending itself that it won't risk opening doors when people are reaching out to us in unusual ways at unusual hours. There are so many people like my brother who struggle with social cues and norms and end up craving company and kindness at unusual times and in unusual ways. We talked about how hurt he himself felt when he would knock on a door at an unusual hour asking if he could look at the old cars in the yard only to have the person call him cruel names and threaten to hurt or even kill him if he ever came back. And I reminded him that it wasn't necessary for the people to open their doors and let him in for him to feel less hurt. Had the people – as some had – asked him to come at a better time and not immediately reacted by speaking to him in anger, that would have been accepting.

But there are so many grey areas here. And in the end each situation will be different and often difficult and it's just easier to push people away when they are strange or unlike us. And it's even sometimes safer in the moment.

But in the bigger picture, in the world where we keep kindness alive mostly only during business hours and when we understand easily the problem (dead car battery, missing animal, not quite enough money at the checkout) and push or react in anger when the person doesn't make sense to us and we feel overly inconvenienced or inadequate, or where we overcompensate by being ridiculously (and temptingly) generous and yes oriented, we are not building a safer world.

You know, I don't want you to open your door to my brother when he knocks at 10PM asking to peek in the windows of your cool looking old car. Not unless you want to. But I also don't want you to threaten to kill him or call him a f*&%ing lunatic either. I think you can simply tell him to leave and that it's too late for him to be there. You can tell him that you aren't comfortable and even that you don't want him to come back. I hope you will tell him these things, because I also don't want my brother to knock on your door at 10PM asking to peek in the windows of your cool looking old car. It's late. I'm generally in bed by then and maybe you are too.

I talked with my brother about this and more. I gave him specific tips about not opening his door or inviting people in at certain times or when he doesn't know them or simply if he just doesn't feel right about it. He can simply say no. Or pretend he's not home. There is nothing judgmental about that.

I don't know if the man who assaulted my brother would have moved on to assault someone else, had he not been granted access to my brother's apartment. I don't know if that one “no” would have stopped him that night, maybe even prevented other nights. That is possible. Not permitting the harming of others is part of how we teach not harming others. So, it's possible. Though not promised.

But had my brother not granted access, I do know it would have prevented his own assault. And in this specific instance it is my brother that matters to me. Not society, not the story of how that man ended up knocking on a door to rape my brother, not you and your cool looking old car in the yard, my brother.

I wish he would have known he could say no and still be nonjudgmental and accepting.

And since that day we have practiced and both gotten better at it.

I admit, it's not easy to know how to help when people are extremely unlike us. Or struggling in unusual ways. Movies can make us want to be the one who reached out and calmed a situation down or helped an outlier or struggling person during an extreme time of stress or hurt. But when we're not in a movie we generally have no clue how to truly do that safely or correctly.

It isn't easy. It isn't obvious. Not for most of us, anyway.

But I'm proud of my brother. He was able to pinpoint where he went wrong, he talked with courage to the police about what happened, he leaned on me and our mom to get through it but also took the reins on his own healing and chose lessons to learn. The learnings didn't make the assault a good thing, being raped in your apartment is not ever a good thing, but he did good things with the hurt that happened to him. I'm proud of my brother.

I hope he'll always let me talk and learn with him in similar intense and important ways.

And I hope he and I will continue to grow safer and kinder and a little bit smarter together. 

Hugs, smiles, and love!! 

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

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) 
__________________________________

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.

_______________________________

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: The Freedom Of Parallel Play

A Lesson That Lasted - The Story: 

Three of my four sons were enjoying a moment of imaginative play. Toy soldiers, wooden train parts, and various kitchen utensils surrounded them; a world of their creation. 

My fourth son, only months old, snuggled into my chest enjoying a post-feeding coma of contentment. 

Everything in my world was – particularly in that moment- exactly what I’d always wanted. Rather than put my baby down I held on, watched the boys create together and allowed my thoughts a parallel moment of free play. 

“The train broke! The robot escaped!” I heard my oldest son announce to his smitten brothers, breaking into my quiet imaginings with a loud crash of his own. 

Suddenly, and with great force, I was struck by a fear so real my entire body stiffened. 

Tightening my hug on the small body in my arms I bravely allowed the scary thought to present itself: “Children, my children, have their own thoughts, imaginations, and beliefs. My love and lessons can be shared but never forced.”

Sure, I had known this already, but never with such life altering clarity. 

As my boys manipulated their world of toys I teased out this truth and declared a parenting promise to myself. “My job,” I decided, “is to guide them. To be genuinely interested in what they want and who they are. Not to teach or applaud only my version of them.”

My body relaxed, my hug softened, my moment resumed.

To any onlooker, nothing had happened. 

But that moment of parenting aligned me. Who I am (less “leader,” more “helper”) and what I believe (we are all born uniquely capable) became a parenting statement I could put into action. 

I watched my sons play. The game hadn’t changed but my style of interest in it had. Still holding the baby, I joined my boys in their toys and asked them to show me around. 

________________       The End    _____________________

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I encourage you to discover the freedom of parallel play. Of being together with the understanding that we can share each other's plans and pictures and scripts, but that we can never entirely know another person. It's easy to get lost in the mess of wanting our loved ones to think the things we believe they should think, or to invest their time in the pursuits we feel are most necessary, or to behave in the ways we are inclined to consider best. But there is freedom and kindness when we let go of that. Don't let go of guiding, teaching, and learning; but let go of believing that your job isn't done until your children, students, friends, and spouses, see things your way. 

Enjoy and learn and teach and connect and find yourself in the freedom of parallel play!

Hugs, smiles, and love!!

Autism Answers with Tsara Shelton (Facebook)

 

Autism Answer: A Conversation With My Brother About Meeting Girls

Some of us siblings chatting in the sun.

My Brother: I try to meet girls. I try to talk to them but some women are just so stuck up.

Me: True, but mostly we're not. Mostly we've learned to protect ourselves by ignoring advances and random compliments from men.

My Brother: But I'm just telling them they look good, it's a compliment.

Me: Sure, but I promise you, most of us women have experienced men talking to us in nasty, rude, inappropriate ways. Sometimes it starts with a friendly compliment and when we respond, even in the slightest, it turns into something nasty and uncomfortable. Certainly not all the time, but often enough that we've learned to pretend we didn't hear you.

My Brother: I guess I see what you mean. I've got friends who talk to girls that way. But you were just telling me to practice chatting with people in order to meet them, so what the heck am I supposed to do?

Me: Well, for starters, don't focus on how they look. Chatting with people is about connecting, recognizing similar interests. That sort of thing. If a woman is buying coffee in the grocery store and you've never tried that brand of coffee, for example, you could ask her if it's good. But, and this is important, only if you actually want to know. And if she doesn't answer you, don't take it personally. But also, if she does answer you, don't try to turn it into, "Can I have your number?" Just let it be a natural conversation. The better you get at that, the better your chances of connecting with people.

My Brother: Ya, I did that the other day. I chatted with a girl about her day at work and the conversation flowed easy. When it stopped, I just said, "Have a nice day," and went on my way.

Me: Perfect! Great example! Right now you just want to get comfortable honestly chatting. Eventually, a friendship can grow out of some of these encounters but don't force it.

My Brother: Wait, I always see you chat with people. Do you do the thing you were saying? Ignore people for protection or whatever?

Me: Mostly? Nope. Sometimes I do, when my gut tells me to, but mostly I chat. I have a belief that in small ways I can make a difference by giving most people the benefit of the doubt and when it turns inappropriate (and, admittedly, it often does) I say, "No, I don't like that," in a strong, kind way. That's a new skill I have and I want to use it. Also, I want to get better at it. We have been taught in both subliminal and obvious ways that guys will do that, and girls will handle it, and that's just how it is. I don't agree. I think we can make it happen less if we change the underlying narrative and assumptions. So, I do my small part.

My Brother: Maybe those other girls should learn to do that. Give me the benefit of the doubt, like you said.

Me: Not necessarily. I used to respond to guys who called out to me and then I got myself in sticky situations when they were pushy. I didn't have the "no" skill I have now. So, for many women, ignoring is probably safer. It's not up to us girls to solve this problem, we need to insist that the boys don't think it's okay to treat us as sexy toys. We've got to work together on this one.

My Brother: So, I should talk to girls about things that are happening in the moment, not about how they look.

Me: Yes! Exactly! Eventually, you'll be comfortable enough that you can add the piece about them being pretty to you, because it will happen naturally and not as an excuse to talk to them. Besides, it will also be good for you to pay attention to things other than what the girl looks like.

My Brother: (Dubiously) I guess.

Me: (Giggle!) You are so funny to me. You call the girls stuck up but you are a little stuck up yourself there, mister!

My Brother: I guess.
___________________

I love that my brothers will have these kinds of conversations with me. I love sharing my perspective and learning theirs.

My favorite thing about diversity done well is the guided imagining of a different perspective.

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

 

Autism Answer: Finally! We're Boring!

Me and my brother: The oldest of eight and the youngest of eight. Bookends!

When I first started my Facebook Page (which became this blog) about four years ago, I got tons and tons and tons of comments from followers about how my youngest brother was such an inspiration.

In those days, he was doing well but still truly struggling. So many of my stories were about giving him those extra pushes and being there when he needed a moment to breathe. I shared with readers the things my mom was doing, the things I was doing, and the work my brother was putting into his own life and independence, rather consistently. Almost once a week.

But lately, the last year or so, he's just a guy living his life and we hang out sometimes. Sure, I'm his big sister so I also give him those extra pushes and create an environment where he can comfortably breathe when he needs a break, but I rarely tell you about it anymore.

It just seems less like a "story" you need to know about. 

It seems less like our moments are fragile and hugely important, and more like they're necessary for the function of loving life, just like in every other family or team or group of friends.

It's not as though my brother doesn't amaze and teach and learn with me anymore. It just seems like less of a big deal. Like less of a thing I need to tell you.

And we're okay with that.

Happy birthday to my baby brother, Rye!!! I hope we continue to grow and learn and love and laugh and impress each other in these boring, simple ways!

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

Our birthday plans for tonight! Hanging out in the backyard!

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If reading some of those stories from our days of learning together might interest or (dare I hope?) help you, I invite you to check out my book Spinning in Circles and Learning from Myself: A Collection of Stories that Slowly Grow Up. It truly is as it sounds. A collection of mostly true stories I've written over the years about growing up in my unique family and then raising one of my own. Happy reading, friends!!