Finding Your People

Prior to many outings, events or meet ups with friends, I “preview” for my kids what to expect. I describe where we are going, the types of activities we might participate in, whether food will be served, how long we will stay, etc. 

Prior to a few family meet-ups with the same family, no matter how much I “previewed” for my son he could not remember or picture our family friends. I said to him, “Remember our family friends, the Johnsons. We’re going to their house today to eat some brunch and to play. Remember the mom and dad and the 3 kids?” I’d share names, where we met them before, how we’re connected etc. No matter how much information I shared ahead of time, my son would enter their home or “greet” the mom with, “Who are you?” This happened at least 10 times. Each time, Ann would introduce herself and welcome him and explain where we had met before. She was un-phased each and every time. 

He also has a hard time settling in and joining in play. We usually would bring a tablet so that he can be near the kids in parallel and observe until he feels ready to join. He learned after a few visits that Ann’s kids had some boundaries around devices and the devices were off limits when friends were over. At each visit, my son confronted Ann, asked her about the rules in her home, and tried to persuade her to allow her kids to be on their devices when he was there. My husband and I tried to intervene, but again Ann was unphased and re-explained each time the rules for her kids and why they had the rules, while also welcoming my son to use his device. 

Ann fondly retells the story when my son shouted at me and my husband after learning again that the other kids would not be on their tablets, “This may be heaven for you, but it is hell on Earth for me.” We walked with him to the basement where the kids were playing. Showed him options where he could sit with his device if he wanted. We helped him find power outlets just in case. Within less than 5 minutes from when he was yelling about the family visit being “hell on Earth,” he was actively playing with action figures with the other kids and fully participating and belonging with the group.

I feel like we know our kid. We’ve learned over time how to preview events for him, help him get prepared, bring needed support tools, safe foods, etc. Sometimes we know the whole event is too much for our family. Sometimes we need to leave early. But we’ve improved over time on how to gauge all of this.

It takes time to bring friends and family into the “circle of understanding.” A few folks just know, usually due to their own lived experiences, sometimes because of their professional experiences. I’ve had to learn over time that I don’t always need to explain my kid or his behaviors or his disability, and I certainly shouldn’t be apologizing for it. 

Friends, family and community members that truly want to know you and your family are worth investing in, and with these folks I will offer more explanations. They are curious but mostly they genuinely care about our family and want to support us in the ways that work best for us. And for those with lived experience, we have a shorthand. Many times, we tell each other, “say less” or “no explanation needed” or “I totally understand, I totally get it.” In true, neurodivergent fashion,* these statements are often followed by a related story or a similar experience that demonstrates understanding and solidarity. I always appreciate the stories. I feel seen. I feel heard. I feel understood.

*Neurotypical communication expectations often involve someone offering validation of a feeling you’ve expressed or a statement along the lines of, “I’m so sorry you’re going through that.” To share a related story about yourself is interpreted as centering yourself and taking away from the first speaker. 

*Neurodivergent communication often involves sharing a related personal experience to demonstrate shared understanding and empathy. It is not taking away from what the first person is communicating or sharing.