Last night I attended our high school’s fall play, the Curious Incident of the Dog in the Nighttime. It was hands down, the most beautiful and moving story I have seen in a very long time. All the feels. Right down to the core.
So, a tiny backstory for everyone who is unfamiliar with it—it’s about a young boy on the autism spectrum who finds a neighbor’s dead dog, which sparks a journey of seeing the world through his eyes, from his obsessive detective work to find the perpetrator, to his mathematical genius, to his complex relationship with his parents and the community at large.
Poignant, enlightening, heartbreaking.
But not in the ways I expected. I thought by attending the play, I’d get some more insight into the autistic world so I could better understand loved ones on the spectrum. And I did for certain. The young man’s acting, by the way, was absolutely flawless and he deserves an Oscar for his performance. I’m not kidding. He was THAT phenomenal and connected to his character.
And although I did indeed come away with some awareness of different nuances in behavior, perceptions and responses from the boy’s perspective, what hit me hardest was watching the reactions of everyone around him. Strangers, neighbors—his parents. That was a completely unexpected lesson.
Witnessing how his parents handled him was an earth-shattering awakening for me. I held back tears as I watched the attempts at their understanding and patience, but ultimately, their utter frustration, explosive words and ongoing despair was a mirror I was not anticipating. The emotional, confused harm that is triggered when one of the parents shouted in exhausted exasperation over his lack of comprehension to common sense or even everyday conversations hit way too close to home.
Ouch.
What we (I) don’t see as a society, I realized, is how those not on the spectrum are the ones with the challenges. Their world is a simple, honest, straight-forward, uncomplicated one—but we complicate it with societal expectations and wishes for conformity to be like everyone else. How can we help them acclimate and thrive in this world? Because like, our persistent complexity is a much better way to exist?
My heart hurts today. I’m just like those parents with a short fuse. I have unreasonable standards of perfection that undoubtedly indoctrinate my children (and probably everyone else in my life) into believing that something is wrong with them when those standards are not met. But I am what is wrong.
I see this new perspective not from a beating myself up way—though that was my initial reaction—but as a call to awareness that I can be better, more accepting, more kind and more patient. Though the patience will take quite a bit of work, as sometimes life’s challenges take their toll on my ability to emotionally balance.
I can try to stop “fixing” what’s not broken outside of myself. I can try on new hats of perspectives. I can loosen up and just flow with what lies ahead of us with more compassion. Not everything needs to be a certain way.
Not saying it will be easy. But today is a new day, and it’s worth giving it a shot.
If you have never heard of or seen the play before, I highly suggest you do. Or read the book. It’s worth the powerful emotions you will feel. Just have the Kleenex nearby.
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