Empathy, it's all it's cracked up to be.

Understanding comes before judgement - a lesson learned from having a child with Autistic Spectrum Disorder (ASD).

This post was brought on by a visit to a supermarket on Monday. Walking up and down the aisles, looking out for special offers and wondering how on earth a large bottle of tomato sauce could now cost as much as three litres of petrol and bemoaning the fact that the price of olive oil has now made it out of reach for many keen cooks, the sound of a young child in distress could be heard.

It is a sound very familiar to me, a cry I remember from long ago.

The elderly couple pushing their shopping trolley behind me started to voice their opinions. “Oh please, shut that child up” the woman muttered under her breath but loud enough for those in immediate proximity to hear. The man raised his eyebrows at me as much to say “Children today, eh!” (Or maybe it was “Mothers today, eh!). Soliciting no response from me, he made the same gesture to another woman carrying a shopping basket and having difficulty deciding on Heinz or own brand mayonnaise. “Probably wants some sweets” she quipped lightheartedly.

Walking on swiftly to the next aisle, as I rounded the corner I spotted a young woman, a baby sitting happily in the front of her trolley sucking on a banana and small child by her feet, about two years old. The child was laying on the floor, stiff as a board and refusing to move. Her cries were piercingly loud, her little face red and blotchy, obviously inconsolable, despite her mother trying her hardest to keep a calm voice while averting her eyes from the people walking past, some making it plainly obvious that this wasn’t the way for a child to behave in a public place.

“It’s OK, we’ve all been there” I said as I passed by. The mother looked up and I could see the beginning of tears in her eyes. “Thank you” she mouthed, trying her best to raise a smile.

As anyone who been with a child having a ‘tantrum’ in public will know it can be embarrassing, sometimes laughable but always something we wish wasn’t happening to us. Add in tiredness, maybe a bad day already at home, the feeling of having a label saying “I’m a bad mum” stuck on your forehead and the world can seem quite an unfriendly place.

I used to have those feelings when I first adopted my son. Being completely new to motherhood at 47, suddenly having a three year old child who couldn’t talk, coping with severe childhood trauma, autism and multiple developmental delays was a steep learning curve to say the least.

One thing that immediately struck me was how quick some people were to judge his and my own behaviour. Unfortunately I began to feel the need to apologise or explain his unexpected actions or what others perceived as abnormal conduct. It was difficult at first to understand how others could not see this frightened and confused little boy wasn’t naughty or rude, but through no fault of his own wasn’t like most other children.

After a time I became angry, upset that people were not willing to make concessions for his behaviour, bitter towards others for not seeing the child, just the problem. He was constantly judged without knowing his story, that he had experienced more trauma in his first few years than some people would have to cope within a lifetime. Then after a few months, I realised I had become just as judgemental of others as they were of me. In my frustration, I was blaming everyone for not having any empathy when in reality they just simply didn’t understand. In hindsight, it was unfair expecting others to empathise when they had no experience of ADS or looked after children with trauma.

Once I stopped being angry with the world and more empathetic to those who judged because of their lack of understanding, life became easier. The tuts, raised eyebrows, barbed comments and supposed words of wisdom started to roll off my back. If anyone felt offended because my son liked to keep his hoodie up in a restaurant well that was OK, if people thought he laughed too loud, well that was fine too. I stopped feeling offended by people asking me if he ever saw his ‘real’ mum, or am I his grandmother. Let it go, it doesn’t matter, my son matters, and that’s the end of the story.

Through my son I have learnt to have more empathy and tolerance towards other people, who, for whatever reason, are different or choose to live an alternative lifestyle to me. And because of that I can say, with hand on heart, my son has made me a better person.

A person without empathy is quick to judge. I remind myself of this often when someone doesn’t seem in a good mood; maybe the lady on the till in the supermarket is a little grumpy, perhaps her back is aching or maybe she couldn’t get the car started and was late for work. The usually cheerful delivery man didn’t stop for his chat this morning, perhaps he wasn’t feeling well or needed to get back early to pick his daughter up from school. That old saying of putting yourself in someone’s shoes just for a minute is really worth remembering.

It has been a very long time indeed since I felt embarrassed about being that mum in the supermarket whose screaming child would not get up off the floor. I no longer feel the need to explain and certainly not apologise. I am immensely proud of my son and what he has managed to achieve so far at nineteen. Life has been extremely tough at times and will no doubt be again in the future, but we get on with it and deal with those hiccups when they arrive, like any other family.

ASD is a subject spoken about more openly now and many people write and talk about their experience of living a neuro-divergent life freely and with optimism. There are many who that find that ASD contributes positively towards their lives and is something to be celebrated, not a condition that needs to be hidden away from the rest of world.

For others, day to day living is more of a struggle for all sorts of different reasons. If people understood a little more about Autistic Spectrum Disorder they may be a bit more forgiving and not so quick to judge when they come across someone who seems just that little bit different. Symptoms present themselves in so many different ways and can differ in children and adults but as a very brief synopsis, here is list of things to watch out for in adults, all of which apply to my son:

• Gets upset by being touched or people getting too near (avoids crowds and public transport).

• Avoids eye contact (causes others to assume he is being rude)

• Takes words very literally, doesn’t understand sarcasm or jokes (people assume he’s miserable or stupid)

• Avoids social situations, can seem very anxious, finds conversation extremely difficult (again, people assume rudeness)

• Seems uninterested in what others are saying or doing.

• Is unaware of social niceties and has little or no social skills.

• Gets anxious at a change of routine, likes to do the same thing every day at the same time.

• Dislikes noise and loud music which can cause distress. Likes to wear a hoodie to block out the outside world.

• Doesn’t mix with others, likes to be on his own.

Our life now is more relaxed than those early school days when even some teachers didn’t seem to know how to interact or cope with such a troubled little boy and although he attended without any fuss, schooldays were not carefree, happy ones. Now at Uni and enjoying his time there in his own way, with people who understand him and his needs, our son’s life chances and choices may be very different to other young men of the same age, but that doesn’t make his future any less exciting or fulfilling.

So next time someone appears to ignore you or doesn’t look you in the eye, comes across as blunt or rude or doesn’t laugh at your jokes, have a think before you make a judgement. It might be someone having a really bad day or it might be someone like my son, different but beautiful all the same. A little empathy can go a long, long way.

Lots of love,

Lindsey x