This post was created with the help of my 17 year old son Ryan, who is autistic. Thank you Ryan for offering your insight as you continue to take on a world that you struggle to understand and that struggles to understand you day in and day out with such courage.

As a mother of a teenage son with autism, I often wonder if the reason my son spends so much time alone, is because the world, especially the world of teenagers, doesn't understand him. Sure, my kid struggles to understand some of the social rules of teenagedom, due in part to his autism, but, how can we expect neurotypical teens to interact with our autistic teens if we don't educate them on some of what they may see?

Ryan and I came up with a few examples of what a Neurotypical Teen (NT) might see and what an Autistic Teen (AT) might want them to see:

NT: Oh, that autistic kid is sitting by himself again. Guess he prefers to be alone.
AT: Yeah, sometimes I’m afraid to take a risk socially because I'm worried I will mess up, and sometimes I do need a break from people, but, sometimes being alone is lonely.
 
NT: Check it out, the autistic kid is talking to himself again.
AT: I kind of am talking to myself, (it's called "scripting"), but, that’s because I am remembering a funny movie, meme or YouTube video. If you ask me, I might share it with you and make you laugh too.
 
NT: Uh oh, he’s gonna lose it, check out how fast his arms are flapping.
AT: I bet when you get anxious or excited your legs bounce up and down or you twirl your hair or bite your nails. Same.
 
NT: You know, that autistic kid never responds and he hardly says anything.
AT: Sometimes it’s hard to turn my thoughts into words, but, that doesn’t mean I’m not listening or that I don’t have something to say.
 
NT: That dude doesn’t really seem to get me or how I’m feeling.
AT: Sometimes I struggle with reading the emotions of other people unless it’s really obvious like you are laughing or crying. I do have a lot of empathy though, once I know what you are going through. You just might need to share with me how you feel.
 
NT: Sometimes that autistic dude is a little too honest.
AT: You are right, I am honest. It doesn’t occur to me to lie, even if a lie might spare your feelings. I don’t mean to hurt you with my honesty though.
 
NT: That autistic kid's parents must never take him shopping, because he wears that same shirt ALL THE TIME!
AT: You’re right, I do wear this same shirt ALL THE TIME, but, that’s not because my parents won’t buy me new shirts it’s because I feel more comfortable when things remain the same and there is nothing more comforting than a worn in t-shirt.
 
NT: You know, it’s hard to trust someone who doesn’t look you in the eye.
AT: Eye contact is hard for me, it can be very distracting and upsetting to look you directly in the eye. It doesn’t mean that I’m not listening or that I am not trustworthy.
 
NT: Wow, that autistic kid is so weird.
AT: If “weird” means different, you are right, but, how boring the world would be if we were all the same! Take a chance to get to know me, you might find we have more things that are the same than different (“weird”).
 
NT: Wow guy, I was JUST trying to give you a pat on the back to let you know you did a great job, you didn’t need to shove me.
AT: Thanks for feeling proud of me, but, sometimes unexpected touch, like a pat on the back, doesn't feel good to me. Just telling me you think I did a great job will make me feel happy.

NT: I don't know how to talk to that autistic kid, I'm always afraid I will say or do the wrong thing and freak him out.
AT: You might say or do the wrong thing, but, so do I, that's what makes us more alike than different. Even if we both say or do the wrong thing, I promise I will always remember that you tried.

NT: Wow, I just talked to that autistic dude, and he is really pretty cool!
AT: Told you.

NT: (Days later): Hey Ryan!
AT: Hey dude! ("Finally.")

He smiled that, not quite a smile, smile. I knew he recognized her, but, he said nothing. Surrounded by the craziness that is a theatre concession stand with only a 15 minute intermission to get everyone what they need, it was a bit chaotic, but, I knew he saw her. In the madness of frantic kids trying to decide which sugary soda they should choose to wash down the equally sugary candy, I knew SHE didn't see HIM. I watched and waited, hoping he would initiate a hello, but, he didn't. Just as I was ready for my prompt, my standard blah, blah, blah, nag, nag mom comment of, "Isn't that so and so? You should say hello to her", she saw him.

And then, a huge, beautiful smile from the girl, and a hand that reached over to touch his arm. "Oh, hey Ryan! How are you?" His smile, now full blown and confident, "Hey (girl's name here). I'm good." Then the ordering of sodas and candy resumed. His smile remained and you could tell as he ordered his Sprite and Air Heads candy that even a high pressured concession stand decision was made with more happiness and confidence after that brief social exchange. 

Ryan once told me that making friends is a risk and since he's not a big risk taker, that's why he doesn't really have any close friends. At least not a friend in the way you or I, or the rest of the neorotypical world, would perceive a friend. Most of his peers are kind and friendly, but, not really "friends".

I can't say that I blame him. He is kind of right. It is a huge risk being a friend. When you make a friend you put yourself at risk of being hurt or hurting someone else. What if the friend doesn't like you as much as you like them? What if the friend hurts your feelings, lies to you or leaves you? What if you say the wrong thing, do the wrong thing and hurt your friend? It's a risky game, this friendship thing, with sometimes heartbreaking consequences.

When you have that connection with a friend, you feel their heartache when they are sad, you feel their fear when they are scared, you feel their frustration when they are angry, you feel their pain when they are hurting and you feel their desperation when they are barely hanging on. Why subject yourself to all that extra "feeling" if you don't need to, I mean, life is hard enough on your own without carrying someone else's pain, right? 

But what Ryan doesn't understand, because he has yet to really make that connection with a friend, is the flip side to the friendship coin. That although a risk, making a friend, having a connection with a friend also allows you to feel their joy when they are happy, feel their pride when they succeed and feel their love when you desperately need it.

Someone once said to me, "The deeper you get with someone, the greater the pain WHEN they let you down". Not IF they let you down, but, WHEN they let you down. I thought to myself, that's a terrible way to live. Do some people really expect WHEN and disregard that IF may never happen?

Yep. And my kid is one of them. Rejection and heartache have proven to him time and again that it's not IF, it's WHEN so why take the risk. "Because it's worth it", doesn't resonate when you took the risk once, a risk that honestly every neuron in your brain went against, and you got burned and worst yet, you had no idea why. When your friend ding dong ditched you, but, didn't have the courage, the maturity or the kindness to tell you why they walked away, the risk and the pain was NOT "worth it" because in the end, the friend is gone and you are left alone, right where you believed you should have been all along.

I have always wondered, does Ryan prefer to be alone, or is it just easier to be alone? I felt like that question was answered a few weeks ago, when I went to visit my girlfriend, and her 18 month old daughter ran to me and asked for "RyRy". When I told "RyRy" this later, he smiled and said, "I wish she were my age, then I wouldn't be so alone". (Pick heart up off the floor here). You see, babies don't know the risk that comes along with loving a friend, they love and feel with reckless abandon, with no regard to risk and so it is equally easy to risk loving them right back. 

I told Ryan the reason I think this sweet, little toddler loves him so much is because he knows with her he can be his silly, funny, self and she adores him with no risk. No prompt is needed when he sees her, he greets her with confidence and joy. Ryan doesn't feel confident enough to do that with a beautiful 16 year old girl at the theatre concession stand. In his mind, he has said and done the wrong thing, reacted the wrong way and been rejected too many times, so it's not worth the risk of "messing up" again.

I would give anything for teenagers and adults to love like a toddler. To see everyone as a source of entertainment and joy. To not care what a person wears, what a person says, or how a person responds. To accept everyone just as they are seen in the eyes of a toddler, with kindness, joy and love. 

I continue to hold out hope that one day my son will find someone who sees him the way my friend's beautiful girl does...funny, silly, kind and safe. That one day, he will see a friend in the theatre concession stand line or the mall or in the hallway at school and greet them with confidence and feel assured that the risk and the friend really are "worth it". 

There is always THE group. THE crowd. THE posse of friends that have such a tight circle surrounding them that very few "get in". We can all regress for a moment back to our teens and picture THEM standing in their circle. Maybe you desperately wanted in, but, refused to admit it. Maybe you tried unsuccessfully to penetrate the impenetrable fortress like walls of this desired circle, only to be rejected time and time again. Maybe you were one of the ones afraid to try, admiring the circle from a distance as you watched one person after another bounce off those tightly enclosed circular walls only to walk away dejected and embarrassed for even making an attempt. Or maybe you were the minority. The one who didn't want "in" the one who thought being "in" was so "out". Bravo to you.

​Regardless of which category you fell under, chances are, you knew which circles you belonged in and which ones you didn't. These so called social circles start as early as grade school and last well into adulthood. I'd imagine even in the nursing home there is a coveted circle that the elderly desperately want to get in. I think the hardest time to find your circle though, has to be the early teen years when you are trying to figure out exactly who you are, and if a circle is even the shape you are looking for, which one fits you best.

As a teenager, there are many circles, each one having their own size, their own walls and their own people occupying the circle. Some circles are easier to get into and some are not. There is the athlete's circle and unless you can catch, throw, run, jump, skate, or dance, chances are good they won't let you in. There is the geek circle that only allows kids with a certain GPA and a specific number of Honors courses on their transcript to break through these walls. There is the rich kids circle and entrance to this circle is based on the clothes you wear, the car that drops you off in car line and the neighborhood where you hang those clothes and park that car. There are endless circles each with specific entrance criteria. Sometimes the circle fill up quickly and chances are if you weren't in the circle before the circle closed, you may not ever get in.

​What if, as a parent, you had a child that you thought didn't even know the circles existed? A child whom you believed didn't see the circles at all, therefore, never really felt bad that virtually every circle was closed to him and he was left standing alone outside the circle. That because of an autism diagnosis, and his diminished social awareness, you hoped and prayed he wasn't aware that the people standing within the various circles didn't believe he quite fit into any one. What if the circle's inhabitants saw your child as a square whose different edges would not allow him to fit within the confines of any circles, but, because you believe he didn't see these differences, you thought it was no big deal?

​Then one day, you realize he has seen the circles...across the cafeteria, standing around the lockers, hanging out at the high school football game and he has wondered what it would be like to be in, but, recognizes he is out. He is older and wiser now and understands what he has been missing being alone on the outside of the circle. He recognizes that his differences make it hard to even know where to begin to try and break through any one of circles to find one that fits. Then everything you believed, everything you held onto crumbles and you begin to wonder if you were in fact blind to the circles, not him. You may even begin to wonder if you were blind to him and the circle he has spent years building around himself.

​When Ryan was little, I use to worry that he wanted friends, that he wanted in the circle, any circle. Then one day, he told me, he didn't have any friends and that it didn't make him "sad at all". So, I stopped putting my wants for him in check and started seeing the circle the way he did, a nondescripts shape that he had no desire to enter.

​I spent years trying to help Ryan make friends, then I spent years believing he didn't really "want" friends. Until two weeks ago when someone opened a circle and Ryan clearly wanted "in". He just needed to know how to step through the open circle and somehow make it feel like he fit. We practiced what to talk about, what to say, how trying to "fit in" might feel and all the things about him that made him worth being a part of any circle. It took an invite to a party and the conversations that followed to make me finally see the circle that mattered the most. The circle that Ryan created. A circle big enough for only one.

​Ryan spends every weekend alone. I'm not telling you that to garner sympathy for me as his mom or to make you feel sad for him, it's just a fact. It's hard to know if Ryan prefers to be alone or if being alone is just easier. I think it is a mix of both. Over the years, I have tried to intervene. Sometimes with success (short periods of time with a specific plan and a "safe" friend) and sometimes with less success ("When is he going to leave?").

​Ever since we first heard The A Word, I have lived with the fear that Ryan will spend his life alone, no circle ever opening for him and never letting anyone in the circle he created for himself. Ryan is protective of his circle because when he lets others in, it gets confusing for him. There are social nuances, slang, facial expressions and body language he doesn't quite pick up on and that makes him feel like the circle is closing in on him thus making his circle feel unsafe. However, in recent months, I have watched him take risks and step outside his circle. I see him looking in to other circles and wondering if there is one that will make room for him. I also see him considering making room for others in his circle.

​I understand now that Ryan has always seen the circles, but, until he was ready, the circles didn't hold much shape for him. From things we have discussed and changes in his behavior, I believe now more than ever, Ryan longs to break through a circle and find one that fits. The desire to be included is there. 

​It's easy to point the fingers at others and say, "they won't let him in", but, Ryan and I have discussed that maybe the first thing he needs to do to find a circle, is to let someone into his. To open his self-enclosed circle long enough to let someone in so they can see all that is amazing and unique inside his circle. It is only then, when he finally lets others in, that they may reciprocate.

​I know that Ryan is considering opening his circle. I believe he will open it, if and when, he is ready. And I know that as his mom, the one person he occasionally allows to enter his circle, that no matter how hard it is, I need to step away from his circle and let him decide who is worthy to enter. Not too far away though. Never, ever too far away.

I try to be a "cool" mom, you know, a loving mom who does just the right amount of nagging that makes you a responsible parent, but, not over the top nagging that makes your kids think you are lame. I try to be the kind of mom that makes our house the hang out for all my kids' friends because, "Kyle's mom is so chill" (and because I have a sweet tooth like a child and my pantry is living proof of this fact). The kind of mom that my mom was when I was growing up (and of course still is today), with the added bonus of trying to be cool on social media. I am told by my teenage son that in the world of social media where I have mistakenly and humiliatingly crossed into his web universe, that I fail miserably in the Cool Mom Department. And if there is anyone who is going to tweet that you are without a doubt the most embarrassing mother in the world of social media, it's going to be your 16 year old, know it all, teenage son. #epicfail

I have been told, by my horribly embarrassed teenage son, that we "old heads" have ruined Facebook for the youngins (no one who is anyone over the age of 14 has an "active" Facebook account) and now, even worse, we over the hill, inept, social media blunderers are hashtagging on Facebook. #OMG 

For those who may be even lamer than me, a hashtag (#) originally began on Twitter then went to Instagram and it is a way to sort or categorize your tweets and pics so that other people who search under that hashtag can find similar tweets, pics and comments. For example, #embarassingmoms could be a hashtag on my son's Twitter account that would follow a comment something like this, "Mom's #'ing on FB again WTH?" and then his followers may share a similar horrific mother story with the same #embarassingmoms. 

Until recently, us old heads using a hashtag on Facebook was just for fun (or embarrassment) because there was no direct link from one hashtag to the next. Facebook changed that, but, according to teenagers, it's still not an acceptable hashtag outlet. In fact, when you put "hashtagging on Facebook" in your search engine, the second search title that comes up is "hashtagging on Facebook is stupid", which I'm sure was written by a horribly mortified teenager. #ohwell

According to my social media extraordinaire son, one of the biggest hashtag Facebook blunders, is #TBT. For you lame-o's, #TBT stands for Throwback Thursday, a day when people post pics of days gone by on Instagram not on Facebook, yet, every Thursday morning, I wake up to my Friends on Facebook sporting big puffy sleeves and even bigger puffier hair. Most of these photos are pictures with large groups of friends from the high school or college era. I AWEnestly love seeing these photos because they do indeed throw me back to a different time, a time when I was young, carefree, responsibility free and worry free (with the exception of my obsessive fretting over Aqua Net Super Strong Hold Hair Spray's ability to keep my hair puffy until 2AM). Ahhh....yes, the good old days. There are, however, some friends and some times, you don't want to throw back to, no matter how good the photo may look and how many Likes, Comments or Retweets you get.

Ironically, it was last Thursday, that I had a #TBT moment, and it wasn't pretty. I agreed to help out with Ryan's end of the year Honors Party in Middle School. Yeah, I know, the fact that my son made the honor roll for the first three marking periods and was not only invited to attend, but, WANTED to attend, should have made it a phenomenal Thursday, throwback or not, but, old #TBT habits die hard. If someone would have snapped a photo of me last Thursday, waiting for the kids to be dismissed to the party, they would have seen the same woman (albeit a bit older) as the woman in this photo, smiling, happy, on the outside, but, a worried, hot mess on the inside. Yes, last Thursday, as I waited to collect the Honors Party Invitations for the invited attendees, I was thrown back with my old friends Denial and Clueless flanked on either side of me, but, my newer, much more fun to be around friend, Hope, was giving them both a nonchalant elbow shot as I waited and watched for Ryan to appear.

My throwback was more of a scary, "must have done some brain damage from spraying all the Aqua Net, oh please don't make me relive it again", flashback. As I waited for my 95 pound, almost teenage son to appear, in my throwback mind, I kept seeing an angry, scared, overwhelmed, lost 4 year old boy camouflaged among the wood chips, playing alone under the sliding board at daycare. My palms became sweaty, I felt my heart rate pulsating to the sound of Pharrell Williams annoying Happy song being played by the DJ and all I could think was, if Pharell Williams entered this room right now, I would stuff an Honors Invitation in his big hat then shove it down his Happy throat. I was anything, but, Happy, I was more like Neurotically Nauseous (maybe I should write a song). I quickly forgot about my new friend Hope and was immediately back in my old inner circle with Denial and Clueless, praying, bartering, and willing my son, not to walk into that commons area alone. All the years I spent accepting that Ryan is happy being just who he is, disappeared as quickly as a trending hashtag. #oldnews

As I continued to watch and wait, unaware of the fact that I was literally holding my breath, I found myself whispering to Hope, "Maybe Ryan will round the corner and come through the doors with a friend", while acknowledging to both Denial and Clueless, "Ryan will not only probably be alone, he will probably be the last one to show up". As I stood there transfixed between the present and #TBT, I watched the non-stop streams of kids flowing through the hallways like salmon fighting to get upstream, literally pushing and plowing their way through the masses. I watched as the cool kids in their high black socks and trendy clothes moved together in packs like a group of hungry wolves, just waiting to take a bite out of the vulnerable kids who walked alone wearing high white socks and the same five shirts all school year long. I watched, I trembled, and I waited. "He will be last and he will be alone and that's ok" was ongoing, repetitive, mumbling mantra.

Then just when my new friend Hope was ready to go hang out with some of the more optimistic, cool moms, my boy rounded the corner, in the middle of the pack, with no bite marks, wearing his high white socks, smiling, laughing and walking with, dare I say it....a friend. Ryan and his friend approached me with their Honors Party Invitation, and I got that very happy, yet trying not to smile grin from my boy and a nice, "Hello Ryan's mom!" from Ryan's friend. Ryan wasn't 4 years old anymore. He wasn't angry, he wasn't scared, he wasn't overwhelmed, he wasn't lost, and just like that annoyingly joyful Pharrell Williams predicted, Ryan was Happy and therefore, so was I. Would I have been less happy if Ryan rounded that corner alone, but, still smiling and happy while Hope quickly left my side for some other cooler mom, AWEnestly, yes, I would have, because no matter how hard I try not to project my version of happy onto Ryan, sometimes, I still do. #pharrellandme

Any of my #TBT photos that I would post onto Facebook, horrifying my social media savvy son, would show me surrounded by a group of friends, no matter how far back I would throw the photo. I always found myself in a group, mostly because I loved hanging out with my friends, but, also because being part of a group was how I identified myself. I was a salmon. Being in the middle of gang of friends for me, was, and sometimes still is, easier than being alone. Ryan is quietly confident in who he is and yes, autism makes having friends difficult, so sometimes being alone is preferred, because for Ryan, being alone beats swimming up stream with a bunch of pushy, obnoxious, teenage salmon. For Ryan, traveling his journey in a pack of wolves or a school of fish is not his thing, for Ryan, sometimes, having just one friend to happily script away with, is all he needs. #1isallyouneed

As hard as I try to be a "cool mom", I'm pretty sure Ryan's poor friend probably did not think there was anything cool about me as I followed them around smiling like some weirdo, taking photos, but, not posting them (well, not all of them) on Instagram with a cool hashtag like #bitemeautism or #dumpeddenial or #justbeyou. As I stalked, I mean, watched, Ryan and his friend walk around, scripting the latest Gumball episode together, I stood alone with no friends....not Hope...not Denial....and not Clueless, yet, I did not, for one second, feel the least bit lonely. Students, teachers and parents milled around me, but, I didn't try to hide my falling tears. I embraced my joy as my heart filled with pride while I watched in AWE the #TBT moment transport Ryan and me to the present. 

Some days I'm cool, some days, I'm not, but, one thing we lame "old heads" have over these youngins is the wisdom that comes with age. We recognize that there are moments that don't need a #, a tweet, a post, or a comment.  Such wisdom may not make us cool, hip, trendy or keep us from humiliating our children, but, our old head knowledge enables us to see that there are some moments that really are better experienced alone, because no one who "follows" you, "friends" you, or "tweets" you, can fully comprehend the significance of a moment, of that moment, except, YOU. #mymoment