Helena Mary Cole

I’ve been writing a lot about being gracious to those who unknowingly picked on me, or were unnecessarily hard on me for being autistic. That is the place I want to come from in writing what I’m about to write. I’m working hard on not being one of those people who refuses to forgive because they “don’t want to let those people get away with wronging me.” I’m making headway, too.

As Father Chad Ripperger says, “Nobody gets away with anything: either they’ll repent of what they did and be transformed or they’ll go before God unrepentant.” Of course, the first scenario is what we want to see happen, for each and every person who’s ever wronged us. In such a case as I’m talking about now, the person may never even know they wronged me, which means forgiving them is something I must do for my own sake more than anything else.

But having said that, I also desire a better future for my autistic children, and for myself and autistic people everywhere, especially in the parts of the world where being charismatic, fast talking, able to make a lot of friends quickly, etc., is admired and valued above the other personality types, and certainly above autistic traits. In order to see change in the future, when it comes to autistic people getting picked on for being autistic, even unknowingly, people need to be made aware of what they’re doing. Because I want to be clear about this: when it happens, whether done knowingly or not, it hurts. A lot.

I don’t especially feel like my autism was well masked all my life, but it was hidden beneath the word “shy,” a very common label for an undiagnosed autistic person to get. People knew I was inconveniently shy (to borrow that phrase from Jane Austen). As shyness is a personality trait that can be gotten over, and often is, I used to get a regular stream of comments from people that ran along the lines of “I used to be just as shy as you, but then one day, I decided I wasn’t going to be anymore, and now everyone thinks I’m way more fun to be around.”

The message I heard loud and clear was this: my being silent makes people uncomfortable; it’s within my power to fix that overnight; all I have to do is decide to be different, and then people will like me.

When I was in high school and into my university years, I really believed that one day, I was going to wake up and be magically delivered from my shyness, in the same manner that Prince Charming transforms the life of the Princess in a fairy tale. I lost count of how many days I took the above advice and decided not be shy anymore. I’d wake up and tell myself, “Today’s the day. I’m going to school, and I’ll be able to talk and laugh and joke and have fun.” This resolution would hold the entire time I was walking to school, but then, almost the moment I’d enter the school building, something would come over me, and my voice would retreat back deep inside, and I’d be just as silent as ever. I know now that the noise and the lights and the sheer number of people would overwhelm my brain and trigger my mutism. But I was still a few decades away from knowing that, so at the time, I found it very discouraging to be trying and failing at this repeatedly.

I used to feel sorry for anyone who got stuck sitting next to me on a school bus. I mean to say, if we had a class field trip coming up, I would look around at my classmates and wonder which of these poor souls would be so unfortunate as to end up sitting next to me on the bus on the way there and back again. I could never talk on a bus. Transitions are hard for autistic people. Having to adapt to going to a different place, most often one that I’d never been to before, was too much to be taking in at once, so the ability to converse would fly out the window on me. I had been told in no uncertain terms that being silent was not an acceptable way to behave, that I was “no fun” when I behaved that way. So, I felt sorry for that person who was going to have a dull time on the school bus because they would be sitting with me.

Well, you can see how this sort of thing created perfect storm of mental health issues. I was no fun in social situations, and most people seemed to think I could be a social butterfly if only I would take the trouble to change my ways, but it wasn’t happening for reasons I didn’t understand. As I’ve mentioned before, everyone seemed to think I was “afraid to step out of my comfort zone,” and I didn’t have any reason not to believe that was true. And that created an even deeper hole for me to fall into when it came to low self-esteem and low self-confidence.

BE AWARE. Please. These negative ideas I just mentioned didn’t come from me. They came from people who were dissatisfied with my being silent in social situations. I made them uncomfortable by not participating in the conversation, so they took it upon themselves to try to “fix me.” For the sake of their own comfort. And it was also a condition on my fitting in. Part of me wants to say maybe these people just wanted to get to know me. I wanted to get to know people and be known, for sure. But I know now that that isn’t likely to happen for me on neurotypical terms. There has to be a lot of understanding and grace from non-autistic people here. We’re talking about things that an autistic person can’t change. That person is already bending over backwards trying to live up to non-autistic conversation standards, only to get told it’s not enough. No one would ever say to a wheelchair dependent person, “Well, I can give you a ramp for the first three stairs but the last three are up to you – you have to meet me halfway.” That silent autistic person who makes you uncomfortable isn’t going to be able to talk just because you, in your generosity, paved the first three steps. We’re talking about a real disability. Believe me, autistic people are trying with all our might.

So, please don’t bug someone who’s being silent for being silent. You could be dealing with an autistic person who just wants to be socially accepted like everyone else. Please just don’t. The number of times I add that sentence is proportionate to the pain I felt on being told that I was “just shy” and could “get over it if I wanted to.” PLEASE DON’T.

If what you want is to get to know that person (and your motive isn’t solely to alleviate your own discomfort with no consideration for the autistic person’s comfort), there are ways. But they’re not the ways you expect. Don’t expect to get to know that person by social conversation in a large group. You will probably do better to engage that person in a one-on-one conversation. But if that doesn’t go so well, stop and take a look around. If you go off the beaten path, you’ll probably find that that person is trying to connect with you, if you can see past the unrealistic expectation that that can only happen by talking.

One of the most healing moments of my life happened at the end of my four years of Bible College. I want to write more about my first and second years there (next time), but for now, it makes sense to highlight something that happened at the end of the four years. The number of us who studied at this particular Bible College together for the entire four-year program was in the teens. And so, as a good-bye celebration, we planned a retreat over one weekend during our last April together. We rented a little cabin on some lake (I can’t remember the name). On the last night of that retreat, we had a campfire. As part of the fellowship of that campfire, for every person present, the group was given the chance to say something encouraging about that person, or something they appreciated about that person over the last four years.

When it was my turn to be on the spot, many nice things were said, but the one I remember the most came from our African exchange student, a young man named Charles (we called him by his last name by the end of the four years, but of course his first name was very English – he came from Kenya). Charles said, “We all need to think about the quiet ways in which we have gotten to know Laney. She published our yearbook last year; this year, we read her work in publications; she’s good at oral presentations and speeches. These are all ways in which we’ve come to know her pretty well.” I was positively glowing. Because, yes, that was exactly what I was going for. Go to my writing. I am putting myself out there, hoping to be discovered if only someone would have the patience and take the time. I had gotten to know the whole group fairly well through listening to them talk to each other, and I had a wonderful time, even though I wasn’t able to participate all that much. And I did have my ways of reciprocating, even if they weren’t the obvious and expected ways.

As I’ve said repeatedly, “No one wants to think they picked on an autistic person for being autistic.” But it does happen thanks to ignorance and it is hurtful when it does. The solution is to educate ignorance. So, maybe just make it a rule to consider the possibility that a “shy person” might not be able to magically turn themselves into the life of the party, if they only wanted to. It just might be a matter of “can’t.” Don’t persecute those who are socially awkward – you might be dealing with an autistic person, who may or may not even know they’re autistic.

Having a sense of belonging not a luxury in life, it’s a real need. And yet most autistic people are getting by somehow, very painfully, without feeling like they belong. Don’t make things worse for them by nagging them about their social awkwardness.

Please and thank you.