Note: Looks like this piece is gonna turn into a "first draft" of my memoir piece on Autism. Right now (and probably later when I'm actually writing for the book), I'm processing so much so quickly that it's hard to put it all together smoothly. Hopefully, by writing about being Autistic here, and discussing it with y'all, it will be easier for me to write about it in a way almost everyone who picks up my book can understand what being on the spectrum's like for me.
The news of my recent diagnosis spread throughout my family like wildfire, which I really didn't want to happen. But, I knew it was bound to happen since my family has a habit of oversharing with everyone who is willing to listen. So, I decided to pick up the phone early and reveal my Autism diagnosis to a handful of people who are close to me in an attempt to take charge of my diagnosis, instead of totally allowing my mom and other close family to try to speak for me.
Out of all the calls I was nervous about making, I wasn't looking forward to having a discussion about my Autism with my conservative grandparents. After all, as loving and caring as my grandparents are, they aren't exactly the most understanding people. My grandma Connie has never dealt with anxiety and depression, and has always been very happy-go-lucky no matter what. And, my grandpa Lyle has always been a "problem solver", but not all of his solutions to my issues (such as praying my depression away) really work. Of course, he is patient with me, and he's never said anything to intentionally hurt me. But, still. I wasn't looking forward to talking to my grandparents about my ASD diagnosis.
When I called my grandparents, turns out they'd already gotten a call from my mom about my diagnosis. I think because my mom called them first and gave them a somewhat brief overview of my ASD, my grandparents were more understanding of it than I thought they would be, and not once did they ever talk about my ASD as being a bad thing or something to be cured. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
"I'll always remember how inquisitive and creative you've always been," my grandma Connie recalled, "You were always intensely interested in one niche subject after another, and I always enjoyed listening to you talk on and on about whatever it was you were interested in. If you weren't talking about it, you were either drawing it or watching videos about it. I was always so perplexed by your ability to hyper-focus. When you were between the ages of two and five, you could sit still for hours putting things together and taking them apart again.
I also remember the time you spent literally an entire day building paper airplanes with grandpa; from the time I left for work to the time I returned home. The first floor of the house was covered in a blanket of paper airplanes, and there were many more upstairs. I'm still not sure where you guys got all that paper! We literally had to use the snow shovel to clean them all up! Ah, I've never seen another little kid be so interested and passionate about one specific thing for so long. Every other kid I interacted with - up until I met you - couldn't be interested in one thing for more than ten minutes at a time. Watching you grow up was absolutely amazing! I strongly consider ASD to be nothing but a blessing- A true gift!"
My grandpa recalled similar things about me in the same excited tone of voice as my grandma. My grandpa fondly remembered taking me to my great uncle Courtney's house when I was no older than four years old. My great uncle noticed that I was extremely interested in the taxidermied animals that decorated the walls of his house. When he asked if I knew what the animals were, I correctly named every animal on the walls, and even shared a few interesting facts about each one. Uncle Courtney was simply blown away by it. He figured he'd add fuel to my obvious interest in nature and animals by sharing pretty much everything he knew about North American wildlife from his days as a hunter, hunting guide, and game warden. Uncle Courtney also gave me a few pieces of taxidermy, as well as a handful of wildlife pocket guides, nearly all of which I still have today.
From then on, both my grandpa and great uncle went to great lengths to ensure that fire in my soul was kept going and put to good use. It all eventually led to me getting my hunter's license, which I got by passing a 150 question test with a perfect score, and showing the hunter's safety course instructors that I could load, fire, and unload various firearms, as well as correctly identify the calls, tracks, fur, feathers, and scat of wild game. After getting my hunter's safety license, I was out hunting within just a few short months, where I scored a trophy tom turkey on my first hunt.
