A Seat At The Head Table

Oh, how I would love a seat at the head table.

Autism, however, often lands me right smack in the middle of the kid’s table.

The looks I receive – Lord, I could write a book.

There is sadness.

There is pity.

There is disgust.

It’s like an Inside Out movie - minus the looks of joy.

Many see my Apraxic body.

My limited speech.

My body has a mind of its own.

It is wickedly strong.

It is insanely stubborn.

It ignores reason and safety sometimes.

It, quite honestly, is my nemesis most days.

I froze today at Emory trying to get on the escalator.

My mind knew I was safe.

My Mom had my hand.

My Apraxia caused my body to freeze.

Like a statue.

No one was moving me.

My mind was experiencing every sound.

Every emotion.

Every look of judgement.

I felt it all.

When turning eighteen, most grab their independence and run like the wind.

Turning 18 for many Autistics is a much different story.

For me, it is familiarity with terms such as:

Guardianship.

Conservatorship.

Social Security.

Special Needs Trusts.

Aging Out of Care.

I am only 18.

18.

I love listening to music.

Watching crime shows with my Mom.

I enjoy cheering on the Falcons with Will and my Dad.

My Grandma takes me shopping and out for lunch.

It’s the best.

I am only 18.

I went to a new doctor today as I am aging out of pediatric care.

He asked me questions.

He looked at me.

He watched me spell on my letter board.

I was part of the conversation.

I had a seat at the head table.

More of this I pray.

Having Autism is going to be challenging for life.

“A lifer” is a word many throw out there.

I do have a life worth living.

A life full of love.

A life full of hope.

A life full of faith that there will be more room at the head table.