Wandering, Wondering

Yuvoice Duet: Read another inspiring story about rediscovering life with Autism here.

Imagine being lost in a large bookstore when you were little. You are surrounded by pictures, puzzles, book covers, and other unfamiliar things. It’s a strange place, where so many stories live, including magic, mystery, and science. This array was what caught your attention when your parents were only there to buy some paper. After a while, you lose sight of your parents or they lose sight of you. You think for a moment, about what to do and run around; the place seems so significant to you. After thinking for a while you give up the fight and wait by the entrance.

You weren’t afraid. Not really. The colorful and beautiful things around you were fighting for your attention. You didn’t think then — how could you? — about how long it’s been since you’d been lost and how your parents must be worried. You stood calmly by the guard, thinking about which dinosaurs you would draw when you got home.

You knew they’d find you. 

This moment meant little to me then but it was very near and dear to my mother. It was one of the earliest moments when she was astonished at what I could do and what was going on in my head. But, now, I wonder what it really is.

Then & now

Years ago, when I was young, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, a condition I barely understood then. 

It is the early 2010s, and things are very different now. I’m more confident and appreciate what it means to myself and others around me. The world I see out there isn’t much clearer than the world of the bookstore. I’m still caught up in the wonder of it all with all the same questions in mind. When I first found out about my diagnosis, I felt like it was a superpower that made me special and set me apart from the crowd. I had a name for what made me better at school and different from the other kids. I had the luxury of looking at it with fondness.

But things are different now

The closer I get to the real world, the more distinct it becomes. I have been living in the Philippines with my superpower, aka Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), and have realized that my life was supported by a privilege that protected me from the real world. 

I grew up wealthy. My parents supported me when I acted up at school. They kept me away from the harshness meant for the little miscreant that others might have seen me as. Now, much of that wealth is gone. As I grew up and went to college, my superpower started to feel different in my hands. I met some people who were more successful and popular, and great with studies, and a few who were not. These people showed me more of the truth. I had never met anyone who revealed their struggles with bullying, society, and familial issues before, and that enlightened me to just how much my parents had protected me since I was little.

Now, I also understand how much my mother struggled to get the required care for my condition and how scarce therapy centers are. I’m a grown-up, and don’t need as much care anymore; I have an excellent social life with my classmates, and can easily make friends. But when I do need it, I hear stories repeated in various places, and all of them remind me of how hard it is to get care for ASD in general in my country.

Revisiting the bookstore

When I visited that bookstore as an adult, my mother did not mind. Why would she? Of course, she remembered the story I shared above; it was just that the present was more important. The interiors were changed. The bookstore had been remodeled; the shelves were shorter and the place was more spacious, so it was much harder for a child to get lost now. It was bigger, certainly. The colors and wonders were still there for the adults looking around. All the stories and adventures promised on those beautiful covers were still there. If I had more money, perhaps I could buy one someday. If I had more time, I could have browsed and looked at them all.

This place was the same as I remembered it, even after the changes. I walked past the guard at the entrance and into the aisles with my family to pick up some stationery. My mother knew we could finish this and make time for the trip home. I wanted to spend some more time there, but I knew I couldn’t. With our finances and changing schedules in flux, I knew better than that. I am a grown-up now and no longer have the luxury of getting lost here.