If you found this blog, maybe you have a child with autism who is nearing adulthood. We’ve been through it, and miraculously, have lived to tell about it.
Jason and Joshua are fraternal twins, born in 1993. Maybe you’ve been around enough to hear the saying “If you’ve met one kid with autism, you’ve met one kid with autism.” That’s certainly true of Jason and Josh, both of whom have autism.
Both guys have sandy blond hair and blue eyes, but the resemblance stops there. The boys tussled for nine months in the womb, which I should have suspected foretold a lifetime of disparity between them.
Jason is the older, by four minutes. He’s built like a football player—strong and solid, with thighs like barrels bulked up through years of Tae Kwon Do and cross-country running. (Me to XC coach: “Where’s Jason?” Coach, after jerking his head up: “Guys, where’s Jason?” Lots of shrugging shoulders, and finally a comment about “maybe the cemetery run” from one sweaty adolescent. More on misplacing Jason later.)
Josh is long, tall and lanky, like a basketball player. I remember when we were at the pediatrician’s office when he was around age two, there was a poster on the wall from which one could take the current length of a child and extrapolate height at adulthood. Given that both boys were born around five pounds each (Steve used to affectionately refer to the boys as his “little canned hams”), the idea of such size seemed outlandish. Well, the poster was right. Josh is now 6’4” and, be still my heart, it appears he was still growing at the age of 21.
If Josh was neuro-typical, I suspect he would be a poet, and he would break more than a few hearts. He has a charismatic floppy grin, and absolutely no clue how incredibly good looking he is. He loves music and DVDs of all kinds. Josh is just the sweetest, most loveable, gentle giant young man I could imagine—except for when he has us pinned to the ground in anger or is slamming his head through a wall or window in frustration. It is then I look at this person with utter confusion and ask, “Who are you?”
Well, the boys have grown up. They’ve been living not-in-our-house for a few years now. No, it wasn’t easy. It was a mess. It seemed like there was no one person who could see the big picture and guide us through all the details of being an adult with autism, so we struck around blindly in many cases until something stuck to the wall. We learned a lot. We cried a bit. But we survived, and today both boys are happy, healthy and safe. And amazingly, I am even still married to their father, after 40 years.
Today many people ask us a lot of questions, as they peer over the edge of that canyon of transition that seemed so distant to us all during those early intervention years. To answer a lot of those questions, I may write a book. In the meantime, I’ll post what I can here. Be gentle with me. It’s my first blog.
While you wait with breathless anticipation for the book, feel free to write me with questions or comments at Lperry@transition2adulthood.com. My fan base is still manageable, so I’ll actually respond 😉
You made it this far – you will finish well.
God’s Peace to You and Your Precious Family,
Lora