Different, not Broken or Sick

Last week my mommy hackles were raised. I went right into Mama Bear mode, do not pass go.

While reading an article about a couple with autism who were getting married, I came across the sentence that the entire wedding party "identified as being on the autism spectrum."  Excuse me? Identified? The journalist's choice of words left me flabbergasted, frustrated and angry.  I have fought for my child and for acceptance of him and of autism.  For this journalist to minimalize everything my child has been through and how he has succeeded, well, I may have had flames shooting out of my ears.  My immediate reaction was that one does not identify as being on the spectrum, one is diagnosed.   Autism is not a lifestyle, it is a not a choice.  Autism is a neurological disorder, diagnosed only by professionals.  By referring to it as an identity, the journalist implied that one chooses autism, and she seriously misled any already uninformed readers of the life altering reality of being on the spectrum.  To identify is to say, "I am autism," whereas to be diagnosed is to say, "I have autism, but I am so much more."  As Noah's mom, what I interpreted as sheer ignorance left me stunned.

Later, I asked Noah about it. I didn't share my initial outrage, because I wanted to know how he felt about the journalist's choice of words--and he surprised me.  His explanation even made sense to me.  Noah said that by identifying as being on the spectrum, he's chosen to accept and embrace who he is with autism as a part of him.  He didn't think the journalist's statement at all implies that one chooses to have autism. He understands he's more than autism, but autism is a part of what makes him Noah.  We both laughed when he said, "I didn't choose the autism life.  The autism life chose me!"  Noah then  mused that maybe by changing the phraseology used, but saying one identifies rather than one is diagnosed, we can even change how the world sees those with autism, and we can normalize it. Noah also said that to be diagnosed feels as though he's been told something is wrong with him, when he knows there isn't.  He's not sick, he's not broken, he's just different, and he's exactly how God created him to be.  He reminded me of the relief he felt to have a name for it when he was first diagnosed, what a relief it was to find out he's not just "out there weird, but there's a reason for my weird, and I'm okay with that.  This is just how I do life."

God says a child shall lead, and in my house, that happens to be true many times.  How did I get such a smart kid?