MORE 

Autism to me and our family is a condition of more, not less. I’ve hear the expression that Autism is different, not less. But I would like to see a change in view. Autism is More. At our house, so many of our meltdowns are from Rex seeing/hearing/feeling/doing/needing MORE from his life than a neurotypical 8 year old. He sees everything when his eyes are open, that’s why he closes them. He hears every word that is said, every noise that is made around him. He hears them louder and clearer than we do. So he covers his ears. Retreats to a quiet hiding place and screams to drown out all that sound. He feels the slightest brush of the wind and the smallest of temperature change. That’s why he climbs under the softest blanket and pulls it up to his chin. His body does more; it moves more and talks more to process all those sensations coming from every direction. And yes, he needs more. He needs more patience, more time, more calm, more peace, more understanding than an average child his age. He has been in my life for 8 years now and I am just starting to understand how he works and it’s been a disadvantage and a disservice to us all that we just understanding that he is MORE.

I wrote this in April of last year, 2014, and still these words are true. I am still learning to understand his More and learning how to help our family navigate and live these words. 

-Rebecca Dyck

 

Mismatched Socks

I wanted some new socks. I love socks. They are one of my favorite things. I've had a collection of fun socks for years. Socks for every season and holiday. They come in all colors and sizes and textures. You know what you are getting when you buy a pair of socks. Two matching socks that will keep your feet warm and make you smile.So I bought my socks and took them home. I washed them and folded them and made sure they were kept together. I wore them and showed them off. I loved my new socks. They were exactly what I was expecting.

One day I opened my sock drawer to get out my favorite socks, but I could only find one sock. The matching sock was not there. I looked in all the other drawers. I looked under the dresser. I looked in the closet, in the washer, in the dryer, in all the other rooms, in all the other drawers. I looked behind the washer, behind the dryer, in the trash. I tore the house apart looking for that darn sock. It was gone. It was like it had never been there before.

I didn't give up. I searched for days, for weeks even, looking for that sock. I had no joy and could see no happiness in having "just ONE" sock, There were supposed to be two. I bought two. What would people say when they saw me wearing only one sock or worse,  two socks that didn't match? But no matter how hard I looked, the second sock was gone. I had to accept the fact that my sock was gone. And after all, I did still have that one sock left. That sock still made me smile. It was still colorful and fun. It was just different now because I had to put a different sock on the other foot.

So I did. I wore mismatched socks. At first I wore them because it was the only way I could wear my favorite sock. And them something happened. I discovered that there was a new and different kind of joy in wearing mismatched socks. I stopped worrying so much about what people would say and I embraced my crazy, colorful and unexpected socks.


That's the story of our life with Rex. A life with where things are mismatched everyday. A life where plans and hopes and dreams and expectations change without us knowing, whether we want them to or not. In all that hardship, there are still moments of joy and fun and silly. There are moments where we all laugh until our cheeks hurt. And there's a freedom in letting go of what was expected and embracing what IS.

So come on over to our house. Show off your own mismatched socks. We won't judge. As we say over here, "Life's too short for matching socks"!

-R.D.