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Neurodiversity
5 Strategies for a Happier Neurodiverse Family
When one or more family members are autistic, things can be a little different.
Posted March 26, 2021 Reviewed by Devon Frye
I’m an autistic mother of an autistic child, and the wife of a neurotypical (or non-autistic) partner. We are a neurodiverse family.
In truth, every family is neurodiverse, since every person thinks and acts a little differently than every other person. No two people will have identical brains. With at least half of our family on the autism spectrum, however, we just take those differences to another degree!
When it comes to navigating through our communication differences, a few key strategies for keeping the peace have risen to the top of our toolkit:
1. Caring for our Senses
Many autistic people experience either a very muted or heightened sense of the world. For those of us with the latter experience, everything is louder, brighter, and more intense than it is for most people. My and my son’s sensitivity to lights or sounds or smells can overwhelm us easily, and make getting through a particular activity very challenging. Knowing this about ourselves, we take precautions, and trust our family members to have our sensory needs in mind when possible.
For example, when our son started taking martial arts and the class became loud with students and instructors shouting, we made sure he had a pair of athletic-safe headphones to wear. And when my husband saw me squinting in our new living room after we moved, he got to work setting up a standing lamp so that we wouldn’t have to use the too-bright overhead lights.
2. Direct Teaching and Learning
A lot of autistic kids—and adults!—learn very differently than most people. I don’t just pick things up as I go along, like cooking or how to shop or what to say to my neighbor when we meet unexpectedly at the corner. These are things that I need to explicitly learn or be taught how to do. Because I didn’t learn a lot of this growing up like others may have, my husband sometimes ends up in the role of “teacher,” which for us, works just fine. Outsiders may see the surface of our dynamic and assume it’s unbalanced, but looking deeper, I teach him all kinds of things in return, even if I don’t always know it!
A simple example of this one is a time recently (pre-pandemic) when we were out with some friends at a restaurant. It had been fun but exhausting for me, and the kids were expiring, so I was ready to get myself and them home. My husband Larry had let everyone know we were heading out, the kids had done their “bye-byes,” and I was already halfway out the door with them. “Sarah,” Larry called me back, gently. “Come say goodbye.” In my haste, I had forgotten that people would want to say goodbye to me, too, and that it would be considered rude for me to leave without engaging.
3. Schedules and Routines
A regular schedule and at least one routine (often the bedtime routine), may be a part of life for many families. For us, having a schedule for the day or sticking to our usual routines is often what makes the difference between a good day and a bad one.
Because my brain is inundated with the details of life, so many of my variables change each day, even if the day is mostly the same. This is true in my son’s experience, as well—if the seam is off on his sock all day or if the neighbor’s dog barks longer and louder than usual one afternoon. There are a great many unpredictable things about life that can happen on any given day. That’s why having a routine to rely on makes things easier for me and for him: it gives us a chance to not have to think so hard, not have to process every moment.
A schedule doesn’t necessarily have to be elaborately planned out every minute—for us, it can be something very simple. For example, we might start our weekend with a 5-minute “family meeting,” where we go over the things we need to get done that day: “This morning we are going doing the laundry, then we are having pizza for lunch, and this afternoon we will go out to the grocery store.” Throughout the week, having set days when certain foods are eaten or chores are completed can help keep the week running smoothly.
4. Valuing Intentions
We understand that our brains work differently, and that this will cause some miscommunications to occur. Yet rarely is there ill intent behind any of what we say or do. So we make a commitment to each other to always look deeper—dig down past the initial miscommunication and consider the other person’s intentions. Good intent does not erase adverse outcomes, but it does soften what otherwise could be a sharp or painful interaction for all involved.
For example, I may say something to my husband that comes across as blunt, unhelpful, and perhaps even spiteful. But I would never mean it that way. He may say, “I’m looking for the baby’s night light.” And I might respond, “I haven’t touched it.” To me, this is just a fact—he is looking for something that I have not seen or touched recently, therefore, I am not a useful source of information. To my husband, however, his first instinct may be to think he just asked me for help, and all I can be bothered to do is make sure he knows I am not to blame for the missing night light. Instead, he takes a breath, knowing my intention was not what it seemed, and says, “Can you help me look for it?” And of course, now knowing exactly what he wants from me, I am happy to help.
5. We Are Our Own “Normal”
When it comes to maintaining a sense of “normalcy,” what works best for us, honestly, is that we make our own “normal.” Each of us has different ideas of what is normal for family life, anyway—so we bring those ideas together and make something unique to our collective experience.
Our son refers to the kitchen as “Daddy’s Kitchen,” because my husband does all the cooking, as my ASD brain and the nuances and variables of food preparation do not mix well. When we go out as a family, I do the driving, so that Larry can keep his focus on our bigger picture—where we are going, how the kids are doing, where and when we need to stop, etc. Before we take our son to any new place, we spend many brain cycles weighing whether it will be worth the amount of effort we know it will take. If we decide the pros will outweigh the cons, we spend more time getting our son used to the idea and setting his expectations (which in turn helps me get ready, too).
Does it take more out of us than it might another family without disabilities to take into account? Sure. Does it mean we are careful about where we spend our energy as a family? Yes. But that’s normal for us. We don’t spend our time being concerned with reaching some idealized version of what it means to be a “normal family.” More important is that we are enjoying each other, supporting our needs, and growing together.
