"Halloween" 1978 Dir. John Carpenter Well, it's officially Halloween and I'm sad to report that the only horror movie I watched this Halloween season was the Rob Zombie remake of Halloween. I love to freak myself out during the creepiest month of the year. Comcast has every horror film of the past 40 years currently On Demand, but of course they aren't found in the "Free Movies" category. I mean, why would Comcast just put a bunch of classic horror films On Demand during the ghost and goblin time of year and let their, already sucked dry by outrageous monthly fees customers, watch these highly acclaimed, slasher films for free? That would be too logical, too kind and too cheap. Now, if perhaps you stumble across Halloween in say, oh, July for instance, it won't cost you a cent, but come October when you really want to watch a good old fashion "let's leave the lights on tonight" movie, about All Hallows Eve and scare yourself silly, plan to shell out some cash. Comcast's greed is almost as horrific as the horrendous choices young, wannabe stars make in horror films (AWEnestly, who goes to an abandoned house where people were murdered to make out on Halloween night?). If I knew how to resurrect Michael Myers, I'd tell him Jamie Lee Curtis works at the Comcast office and I'd punch the address into Google Maps for him.
Since I haven't performed any séances of late, instead of sicking Michael Myers on Comcast every Halloween, striking fear in their greedy hearts, I should send Ryan into the Comcast office demanding candy and free Halloween movies, wearing a scratchy, hard, uncomfortable, not made of Hollister cotton, costume. Ryan would never harm a flea because first of all, a flea is a bug and he won't go near a bug even to destroy it, but, mostly because Ryan has a beautiful heart and a logical brain. Raising a knife is against the law, but raising one hell of a fit when attempting to put on a costume, well there in no law against such behavior in the crimes code. Chances are, after listening to the whining, screaming and complaining spewing out of Ryan's mouth, the Comcast staff would take their chances with Michael Myers....in the office alone....with the phone lines cut....on Halloween....with a full moon.....and neighbors in surrounding offices, who conveniently, never hear anyone scream. I can almost picture the free Halloween movie line up on my TV now.
Notice Ryan's hands. He held them that way all night. Lot's of kids get freaked out over Halloween and AWEnestly, who can blame them? Ghosts, vampires, devils, monsters, zombies and Miley Cyrus (shudder) costumes are everywhere. That is down right scary stuff. It's enough to make the bravest kids shake in their fake, made of fabric, with elastic straps that break after trick or treating at two houses, costume shoes. Add some creepy spiders, weird, scary noises, bright flashing strobe lights, squealing motion sensing decorations, varying routines and a touch of autism, and my friends, you have your very own house of horrors.
Halloween tends to be very difficult for many kids with an ASD. There is a ton of sensory overload and lots of changes in routine. Even the slightest change in routine can be upsetting, from decorations in the house, to family members dressing up and looking "different". Loads of sugary snacks and horribly uncomfortable costumes that we stuff their highly sensitive bodies into, can lead to a toxic, Halloween horror meltdown. At our house, costumes have always been the biggest Halloween horror. There are the horrible, surely may suffocate you plastic type costume, or the must be made of porcupine quills fabric type costume. For a kid with an ASD, choosing between sticky, hard plastic or jaggy, scratchy fabric is like asking a vampire to choose between garlic or sunlight as his preferred method of torture. Yes, costumes are surely the garlic for an ASD child on trick or treat.
Halloween tends to be very difficult for many kids with an ASD. There is a ton of sensory overload and lots of changes in routine. Even the slightest change in routine can be upsetting, from decorations in the house, to family members dressing up and looking "different". Loads of sugary snacks and horribly uncomfortable costumes that we stuff their highly sensitive bodies into, can lead to a toxic, Halloween horror meltdown. At our house, costumes have always been the biggest Halloween horror. There are the horrible, surely may suffocate you plastic type costume, or the must be made of porcupine quills fabric type costume. For a kid with an ASD, choosing between sticky, hard plastic or jaggy, scratchy fabric is like asking a vampire to choose between garlic or sunlight as his preferred method of torture. Yes, costumes are surely the garlic for an ASD child on trick or treat.
Ryan's first trick or treat outing occurred when he was just 14 months old. The sweet large headed fella had just learned to walk so what a perfect time to drag him around the neighborhood in a costume. A week before trick or treat, Denial and Clueless went costume shopping with me. Since Ryan loved to have me sing Winnie the Pooh to him at least 10 times a night, the exact same way, holding him in the exact same position, and never interrupting the song since I would then have to start at the beginning again (clearly, I was as naïve and stupid as the starlets in horror movies), it seemed only logical that a Winnie the Pooh character costume was in order. So, off we went to the Disney Store for the sweetest, furriest, tickliest, scratchiest Eeyore costume we could find. Hooray! "Won't he look adorable!", squealed Clueless, as she held up the Eeyore costume. "But, Ryan doesn't like hats, or anything on his head, maybe the hood will bother him?", I worried. "Don't be ridiculous!", Denial chimed in, "It's not a hat or a hood, it's a donkey head and Ryan will love it!". So consumed with the cuteness of the costume and the thought of "every child trick or treats", I plunked down my $36 and began counting down the days until trick or treat.
When trick or treat finally arrived, Ryan let me put the costume on, but he immediately began tugging, pulling, digging and "no, no, no'ing" while tearing off the hood, I mean head. With every pull down of that head, I pulled it right back up. Without the head, Ryan looked like a headless Eeyore and that was not cute and cuddly, that was just down right frightening. Not to mention, I paid $36 for this adorable costume and come hell or high water, Ryan was going to wear it. As Denial and Clueless accompanied my family out the door to begin our night of gleeful fun, I assured Ryan that the hood, I mean head, would keep him warm on such a cool night. Well, by the fourth house, regardless of the temperature outside, Ryan and I were both sweating. Between having to carry Ryan because he detested that stupid costume, and me chasing him down the street to pull that freaking head back up, the night was a disaster. At that point, Michael Myers, Jason or Freddy Krueger could have snuck up behind me and I would have grabbed their hand and begged them to take me to dinner.
After the Eeyore costume was sent out to pasture, I didn't even bother to try costumes for a couple years. It made me sad, it made me angry, it made me resentful, but I knew the battle just wasn't worth it. After Eeyore, the next "costume" Ryan wore, consisted of a cotton skeleton tshirt and cargo pants. It did the trick, but I still wasn't satisfied because technically, it wasn't a "costume". Year, after year, Halloween after Halloween, it was the same old story. Ryan wanted to trick or treat because his brother did, because the neighbors did, because the kids at school did, and because there was an obscene amount of candy just on the other side of that costume. Denial kept telling me that I needed to push Ryan because trick or treating was like a kid rite of passage. "EVERY kid does it.", Denial sneered. So I pushed, I pleaded, I begged and I bribed all with less than fun results.
Over time, Ryan finally relented and accepted costumes, and most of the costumes he would somewhat "willingly" put on, represented "real" people. Costumes that Ryan knew weren't imaginary or pretend. For example, Ryan wasn't going to be a dinosaur because he was well aware of the fact that dinosaurs have been extinct for millions of years. Ryan certainly was not going to be a zombie because zombies don't exist (for all you Zombie Apocalypse believers out there, please don't share your beliefs with Ryan, or me for that matter). For three years in a row, Ryan was a doctor. A doctor is someone he is familiar with, someone "real". One year, Ryan wore the top and the bottom scrubs, one year just the top, and one year just the bottoms. Although Ryan's incomplete costume stressed his OCD mother out, it didn't matter to him at all, he still got candy.
Another year, Ryan was a police officer, because I let him carry a toy gun (judge away, he put the freaking costume on) and the following year, he wore a costume that sort of resembled Keanu Reeves in The Matrix. Ryan never saw The Matrix movie and Keanu Reeves was as foreign to him as John Wayne, but, I think I told Ryan it was just a different kind of police officer costume and I let him carry an even bigger gun (Wow! How do I sleep at night?). Even though Ryan willingly put these costumes on, it still wasn't easy. There were still endless complaints of things being too itchy, too big, too little, too chokey, too smothering, and on and on and on. I started to dread Halloween.
Then just three years ago, the unthinkable happened. Ryan found THE costume, the costume that transformed him from whiney, grumpy, horror film nightmare, into a trick or treater extradordinaire! The costume that not only Ryan embraced, but the costume that allowed me to take a black eyeliner and draw a fake mustache on his face! The costume that literally came alive with facial expressions, sound effects and mannerisms. The costume, that in my mind, performed miracles! Luigi Saves Halloween!! Hallelujah! Yes, folks, that Halloween it was Michael Myers vs. Luigi and hands down, a video game controller beats out a big, shiny, butcher knife, every single time! Who knew?! My grumpy, irritable, sensory overloaded, terrorizing boy became Luigi in every sense of the word and it was hands down the best trick or treat night ever. For Ryan, Luigi made sense. Luigi felt familiar. Luigi made trick or treat what it was suppose to be....FUN!
After I decided to leave Denial in a dark alley with Michael Myers, I took off my own mask and was finally able to see that Ryan did not care as much about trick or treating as his possessed, scary, crazy mother did. I wanted Ryan to be like all the other kids...to wear a costume and just pretend for a couple of hours. Pretend to be a ghost, a fireman, a dinosaur....a neurotypical kid. Autism makes pretending difficult, black and white thinking makes imagining in color next to impossible. Ryan's black and white world and his horror of costumes, made Halloween and my denial of autism,
paralyzing. Begging and pleading with Ryan to behave in a certain way and to pretend to be someone he is not. Asking Ryan to be a doctor when clearly he is a Luigi.
After I decided to leave Denial in a dark alley with Michael Myers, I took off my own mask and was finally able to see that Ryan did not care as much about trick or treating as his possessed, scary, crazy mother did. I wanted Ryan to be like all the other kids...to wear a costume and just pretend for a couple of hours. Pretend to be a ghost, a fireman, a dinosaur....a neurotypical kid. Autism makes pretending difficult, black and white thinking makes imagining in color next to impossible. Ryan's black and white world and his horror of costumes, made Halloween and my denial of autism,
paralyzing. Begging and pleading with Ryan to behave in a certain way and to pretend to be someone he is not. Asking Ryan to be a doctor when clearly he is a Luigi.
Yes, for years, I was as scared as Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween....always screaming, running in circles, and trying to stay alive without sinking into madness as I tried so desperately to make Ryan wear a costume that regardless of the size, he would never, ever, fit into. It didn't matter how hard I tried to stuff him in the costume, or how many adjustments I made, tugging it this way and that way, or how many layers of comfortable clothes I put underneath the costume, there was no hiding who Ryan was and how he struggled behind the costume. A costume I had created for fear the real Ryan would be rejected. Whether it was trick or treat, soccer, or baseball, for years, I tried to pretend and hide who Ryan really was behind various "costumes" in an effort to make him "look" like everyone else.
Regardless of how scratchy the costume is Ryan wears this year (9 hours until trick or treat and it has yet to be determined), it will never be as uncomfortable as the one his mother wore for years. The costume I wore to hide my fear, my anger, my guilt and my naivete. So consumed with my own costume, that sometimes I lost track of the little boy who hid behind his own. A costume Ryan had to create in a world where only once a year, we celebrate looking different. It took years of patience, understanding, and acceptance for me to embrace the differences in my boy rather than hide from them. Sometimes those differences are hard for me to understand, but they are no longer hard for me to accept. And if I'm being AWEnest, I still have moments when my costume calls to me from the back of my closet, where it is hidden in shame, and although I may take the costume off the hanger occasionally, I do my best to never, ever put it back on.
Trick or Treat is the one day of the year, that kids hope they don't look like anyone else. Children search for the perfect costume, working so hard to look different than who they really are, day in and day out. With only a few hours until go time, Ryan is still struggling with "who to be". Ryan has asked repeatedly, why he has to wear a "stupid costume" just to get some candy, and every year I say, "That's the tradition of trick or treat". Maybe this year, we will break away from tradition. Maybe this year, Ryan will do the exact opposite of everyone else. He will not pretend to be someone he isn't. Ryan can wear his silk shorts that are too short, but comfortable, a Hollister tshirt, and he can script the latest Total Drama Revenge of the Island episode that is routinely running in his head while licking his lips and face until they are fire engine red. What a welcome relief that would be for Ryan, since the other 364 days of the year, he tries so hard to be someone he isn't, by trying to "look" like everyone else. Maybe this trick or treat, for a mere two hours, Ryan will celebrate his differences instead of hiding them under a costume.
Tonight, on Halloween, Ryan just might trick or treat as Ryan. A boy who is growing comfortable in his own skin and who is learning to be proud of who he is, regardless of what costume others think he should wear. With such a comfortable "costume" I realize there is no point sending Ryan to the Comcast Office trick or treating, since they will find nothing scary about a boy in silk shorts that are two sizes too small and a Hollister tshirt. On the other hand, if the folks at Comcast don't have just the right type of candy, perhaps, a little of the former, scary, terrorizing Ryan will come out and maybe, just maybe, I will get some free horror movies after all....in November....right when all the free, year round Christmas movies cost $4.
Tonight, on Halloween, Ryan just might trick or treat as Ryan. A boy who is growing comfortable in his own skin and who is learning to be proud of who he is, regardless of what costume others think he should wear. With such a comfortable "costume" I realize there is no point sending Ryan to the Comcast Office trick or treating, since they will find nothing scary about a boy in silk shorts that are two sizes too small and a Hollister tshirt. On the other hand, if the folks at Comcast don't have just the right type of candy, perhaps, a little of the former, scary, terrorizing Ryan will come out and maybe, just maybe, I will get some free horror movies after all....in November....right when all the free, year round Christmas movies cost $4.
AWEnestly, Ryan truly would never hurt a flea even though this photo tells a different story. Chances are his laser gun was pointed at his mother during a PTSD flashback of the Eeyore costume.
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