Judgement day

For a man such as me, the words normally come easily. For what I struggle to talk about, to put into the form of a personal conversation, I rarely have problems putting into written form. But as I sit here on Monday evening, I am conflicted. I don’t know how to put these thoughts together, whether they should be shared, or if they will resonate with our support system. I try not to dwell on the negativity of the word, instead I focus on the positive, but at some point, these thoughts need to be shared.

It was a routine trip to the grocery store in Fort Dodge with grandma, one that Elijah normally has few problems with. He has plenty of experiences going shopping, from an early age we embraced social settings and worked really hard to make them positive for Elijah. However, a trip to the store for my little boy isn’t a success without elaborate planning. With autism, routine is a big thing. So even though we might only need two things, Elijah will have a set process in his mind of things he would like to get, because that is how he understands a trip. The smallest misstep can throw his thoughts off, and unfortunately, we can’t control the environment around him. The best you can do is to take it one trip at a time, and be flexible.

This was one of those days. Elijah’s excitement was overwhelming, and he was having difficulty processing the trip. We worked through the routine, but for whatever reason after picking out a cereal he wasn’t able to transition back into sitting in his cart. What proceeded was Dad half-carrying, half-pushing Elijah in the cart through the last half of the store. Elijah was an active participant in picking out groceries, and I completed the list. It isn’t always ordinary, but it was functional and we made it through the store without many tears. Successful trip…or not.

For me, it’s the hardest part of raising a child with special needs. Not the words from the mouths of others, as a whole society does a good job of biting its collective tongues.  It’s the looks. The judgemental glances, stares, even glares from fellow patrons. By the time we reached the checkout line and the lady in front of us glanced not once, not twice, but three times in my child’s direction with such judgment written all over her wrinkly face, I had enough and somewhat politely, somewhat pointedly told her to mind her own business. I don’t do the whole public advocacy thing very well; again, the words escape me until I look back at the moment later in the day. But I couldn’t help but to feel sorry for these people. Are you so closed minded, so uneducated that you can’t even make a trip to the grocery store without judging? A wise person once told me, don’t judge a person when you see them, you never know what they might be going through. As much as I try to shield my emotions from the actions of others, it hurt. I thought about it, a lot.

It’s a cold reality, if I chose to let it be. For every advance, for every major gain in Elijah’s day to day life, there’s going to be moments like today. Moments were reality hits you upside the head and says, how are you going to react? Before I started this blog, I probably would have thought about it entirely too much, not really put it into perspective, and hoped the next day would be a little bit better. But in the process of thinking about the events, how to put them into words, it hit me.

So as I’m reflecting on today, I could chose to feel anger. But I don’t. It’s there loss. Because ultimately, it was just a handful of people living far less fulfilling lives, whose eyes have yet to see the joy of my little boy. To see what’s behind the picture they seen.

For every judgmental person, there’s more, so many more, like Elijah’s favorite check out people at Subway or Casey’s or Wood’s in Pocahontas, that not only go so far not to judge, but go out of their way to make an effort to embrace my child, involve him in conversation, to make each and every trip he makes out of the house as good as it can be. The ones who see a little boy, trying his hardest to not let the outside world throw him off-guard, as he looks for the enjoyment of a snack of his choice or a new book.

So it’s my choice. I won’t rant about the downfall of society, the human race, but instead embrace the differences I have seen along the way. I can’t help but wonder, does the yearly newspaper article on Elijah each April in Pocahontas help make a difference? Does the awareness walk and dinner in Storm Lake help direct those eyes to understanding, instead of judgment? It can’t be pure coincidence that our child’s most valuable social experiences come in communities we have focused awareness campaigns each year.

I guess it all comes down to the fact that nothing worthwhile is always easy, there’s going to be bumps along the way. But it’s all about perspective. It’s not about how far we have to go, the people along the way who just don’t get it…it’s about how far we’ve come, about the change that is taking place before our eyes. It’s about ERAAAP, a community of world changers with a confusing name…the ones who are not just creating awareness, but we are creating AWARENESS that generates ACTION. But most of all, it’s a project…a work in progress. It’s about a glass that is half full, full of love and understanding, a glass that has plenty of room for more. At the end of the day, there’s always room for more of a good thing.