Autism & Art

When I was a kid, I didn't understand adults.  My mother used cryptic phrases like "you little article" and "I'll put that smile on the other side of your face".  She said this while doing mad stuff like laundry and buying food.  

Adults were bananas.  And bought bananas.

I had no idea what their weird language meant.  It became my life's ambition to become one so I could understand them.

Then my dream came true.

Hate tha'

I just spent the day cleaning a house that resembled a crack den trashed by angry badgers.  

Now an enlightened adult, the smile is very much on the other side of my face.  

When you think about it, babies are  smart.  They very vocally protest the whole being-born business.  They barrel into this world screaming and covered in shit.  This is a really observant predictor of what's to come.

Being a grown-up kinda sucks. 

But, in between the whole birth and death thing, there IS fun to be had.

Finian was always averse to art.  It was way too messy and sensory for him.  In his final year at Abacas, though, an innovative art therapist helped coax out a hidden love he has for it.  This has become a really fun medium for him to express himself through (all the more valuable for someone who struggles with language processing). 

I also didn't believe I could paint until I was introduced/bullied into it by a dear friend (she's called Dani and I'll pm you her credit card details for a small fee).

I was right, btw.  

I can't paint.  

But I'm having so much fun can't-painting, and am creating weird messes on canvas that delight the bold child in me.

There's only one consonant separating 'autistic' from 'artistic'.  I suspect there's a bunch of gods somewhere having a great laugh about this.

Autism & Playfulness

It's been a tough two weeks for Finian and, by extension, us.

He spent a fortnight screaming, sensory seeking, barely sleeping, avoiding food and needing constant reassurance.  It didn't pass the tipping point of self-harm or a full on meltdown, but we were worn out by the time his mood leveled out.

It's often hard to pinpoint a trigger for a mood change.  This time, though, it seems that his return to school was the guilty party.  In addition, some hormonal gymnastics were going on as he had an acne outbreak that looked like a medieval plague had partied on his face. Oh, and he was madly anxious about this being his final year at school.  So altogether it created a perfect stew to nicely boil his racing emotions.

It really wasn't fun.

Finian was miserable, tired and cranky and it didn't take long for the entire family to catch up with him. 

Absence of fun and joy can make living with Autism unbearable. We actually need to foster our own playfulness so that we can tolerate the difficult spells a little easier.  My husband and I consciously create opportunities where we can be irresponsible, carefree and a bit giddy.  We go on lots of coffee dates, hikes and  kayaking trips.  We cuddle up on the sofa, drink wine and watch comedies.  We spend as much time with friends as we can.

This is not with the intention of portraying ourselves as Barbie and Ken (besides, my boobs aren't perky enough and James has too much body hair to qualify).  We need fun so that we're not arguing over who gets the china in a divorce court down the line.

Having fun is serious business.

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