Autism

 Autism.

Autism, sadly, will always be grossly misunderstood. In this age of fast moving, hectic and frantic urgency, little time is spent on sober reflection and a thoughtful pause for breath. We rush around in ever increasing circles, scurrying and scampering around at 100 miles per hour without any hesitation or consideration. When you tell people that you have Autism the misconceptions and perceptions suddenly descend on them. They'll tell you that of course you're unique with a well entrenched outlook on life and of course they've heard of this mental or physical health condition but they don't quite know what to say to you.

They'll tell you that they've heard explanations in the media, social media, magazines, those posh and grandiose magazines and newspapers who devote acres of print and coverage to something that is just beyond their comprehension. We've all heard about those moving and very confessional articles where those who may be experiencing the first symptoms of depression, anxiety and stress then withdraw into private worlds. The truth of the matter is you have to get on with it, snap out of it, the annoyingly repetitive mantra of pulling yourself together and you've got so much to be grateful for. But for those who have Autism you must surely know about the above and of course we love life.

The fact is that although extensive publicity and awareness of Autism has now reached a vast majority of our ears the dark ages of ignorance are just stuck in a tunnel. To all intents and purposes your air of normality is not theirs or maybe it is but all they can see is a speaking, walking, talking, coherent and  probably quite intelligent individual. They obviously haven't been where I've been and it isn't pretty but painful, awkward and horrifically traumatic. My lovely, always loving and wonderfully supportive family were there to catch me when it looked as though a crisis would become a potential minefield that you almost trod on.

In 2009 my beautiful wife Bev took me along to a specialist clinic in Bethnal Green in the East End of London where I was diagnosed with a little known medical condition called Autism. The first reaction was one of total bewilderment and utter confusion. Nobody had ever heard of Autism in my family at the time least of all me. But when we heard a proper explanation about how it affected the rest of the Autistic community we were pleasantly enlightened.

At first it was all very manageable, almost liberating since for most of my life up until then, I'd felt trapped in a maze of complexity, a labyrinthine land of mixed messages, social discomfort and the sudden consciousness of being somehow different. Of course I could engage with day to day life and that was never a hindrance or obstacle. There was no psychological barrier since I could still speak, eat, drink, laugh and joke with the best of them. I could feel blissfully comfortable at family gatherings and anybody who just meant the world to me.

But the wires were bunched together in my brain in some chaotic muddle, the channels of  communication now seemingly broken at the time because I hadn't a clue what was going on inside my head. So you just got on with the business of living life to the full, revelling in the company of compassionate family who would always know what you were going through at the time. So that's exactly what I did and probably thought I could fall back on the coping mechanisms which would keep me sane and eternally loved.

For make no mistake this has been the most gruelling voyage, a voyage of discovery, an extremely painful and harrowing experience where the frighteningly turbulent waters and oceans have often thrown me around the top deck with the most terrifying intensity and ruthlessness. I have been to hell and back and you find yourself looking desperately to dry land where hopefully you'll be welcomed by friendly faces and familiar acquaintances, friends who could sympathise with you but couldn't offer any real solution in the long term.

And yet I know all about the autistic tendency to cherish routine and structure in their lives, continue to be part of your life, always ready with guidance and advice in what might have seemed your darkest moments of life up until that point. You have their whole hearted support and encouragement and you'll always be either at the other end of a phone, text or social media message. You'll always have them in their lives because the suffering you might have gone through is not uncommon. In fact it's a modern discussion point, a topical advertising campaign in Tube and train stations, bus stops and any place where bold and powerfully worded messages are thrust into your eye line.

In recent years we've heard all about the TV celebrities, the eye-opening documentaries, the Prince of Wales hosting innumerable programmes about footballers with deeply rooted mental health problems. So William the Prince of Wales sits down with some of his favourite players and spreads out his empathetic hands to those who may be inwardly struggling and determined to express their innermost emotions. So he sits there accompanied by these seemingly obscenely wealthy and pampered prima donnas with egos the size of a football ground and no connection with the faithful supporters who simply adore them.

So they sit in their dressing rooms and keep talking because this is the finest therapy, a release, cathartic, good for you and we have to keep the narrative going until one day the penny drops. We are all of course flawed and vulnerable, we are delicate and susceptible, always reaching out to those who are always available for lunch or a cup of coffee. Then you chew the cud and just open up to those who may be inherently sceptical. Every day is a new book with smiling faces on the cover of the said paperback and the story, you think, which should be compelling. 

But then it all gets bogged down in the same old stereotypes, the same old themes and tropes, that bit  that probably tells you to find new hobbies, alternative pursuits and just concentrate on those delightful distractions that perhaps you'd never thought about before. So they tell you to find a new interest, an evening class at college or some activity which keeps Autism at bay. But Autism will never go away because it defines you, shapes your personality and then confronts you with daily challenges with your wonderful family behind you, the most positive influence on your life.

Then you realise that certain friends who know they are without being named, choose to punch you in the ribs before launching into a barrage of brutally verbal comments which  leave you dumbfounded and speechless. They are severely critical and judgmental,  sarcastic in the extreme and then just verbally destructive. They become insufferably hurtful  while you are left  and emotionally wounded, totally demoralised. They poke fun at your completion of five self published books, humiliate you on a monumental scale and then sneer at you mercilessly, becoming dismissive without any remorse or self awareness.

But the fact remains that we have to keep talking because Autism will be heavily stigmatised and just cast into the wilderness where the silent majority still think you're just trying to be the centre of attention, cruelly marginalised by society because you are not like the rest of society. So you put on a brave face, tolerant and resigned to defeat. In a sense there can be no conversation between them because  'Get Talking Britain' just sounds like some tireless cliche parrotted over and over again like a broken record. There's  little in the way of any acknowledgement of Autism as the most important mental health condition and an ominous pall of darkness just gets completely lost in the translation.

So how do you react. You read the riot act to those who you thought would have your ear and confidence before just telling them exactly how you feel. As a grandson of a Holocaust survivor, I've now heard it all before and it's all your fault and you're just over reacting. So you try to rationalise with them because quite clearly they're not listening and probably never will. They get on their proverbial high horse, pontificate wisely and confidently and then forget who you are because it's convenient for them and besides we're right, you're wrong and should just endure their derisive comments, their cheap jibes and barbed remarks.

At the moment you almost feel as though you've been savagely attacked for no particular reason. You hold on to the ropes like a downtrodden, battered heavyweight boxer, clambering to their feet after a knock out left hook that now leaves you prone on the canvas. You're Punch being clobbered over their head and then left senseless by Judy, a freak show, a circus act where the clown just exposes themselves to a bombardment of custard pies in their face and then you're reduced to cowering embarrassment.

You have no legal recourse because this is just a funny joke, a highly amusing anecdote, top of the bill material at the London Palladium, the cabaret act, something almost burlesque, comedy gold. So we tell them about your beautiful mum and grandparents and how they almost died before the Germans got busy. Of course it's beyond their imagining. How could it possibly be anything else? Call it ignorance or even possibly jealousy but I should choose the former rather than the latter.

This is not libellous information because if they think their words and sentences are meant in all good fun and not to be taken seriously. The fact of the matter is that they are and they hurt, they make you feel decidedly inferior and small. Why do they gather in a pub and proceed to single you out as the only one in the pub who hasn't got a clue what he's talking about or just intent on undermining your achievements, your self published books, sniggering almost incessantly, portraying you as the village idiot, a character assassination that borders on the ridiculous, a brutal ambush on you as a human being?

So here's my message to the perpetrators of this heinous crime. Let's have some quality time in your prejudiced thoughts because some of us have feelings. Yes I know who they are and some of your behaviour has been both deplorable and disgraceful. You mock me brazenly and then find yourself as guilty as a hardened convict when they're just innocent by standers or unfairly accused of nothing in particular.

You may have one of those moments when you look at yourself in the mirror and wonder what on earth you may have said wrong. There's gallows humour and the type of humour that just crosses the lines since you're clearly not the high wire trapeze act or that funny, silly clown who just wants to entertain the kids and families with good- natured high jinks and frothy frivolity.

The brutally destructive Holocaust jokes about a Jews favourite sound as that of the hissing gas chambers and questions about the Jews not being at 9/11 made by a printing company, will always rankle but there is resilience in all of us. And hey I hope that one day the Germans will issue a fulsome apology to me for their barbarically murderous deeds one day. 

The Second World War is admittedly over 75 years ago but every time I think back to those mid 1970s days it is not with any pleasure. My poor, persecuted and traumatised grandma suffered horrific flashbacks, screaming hysterically, convinced the Nazi stormtroopers were going to kill her 30 years after the event. So for those who just choose to mock me for no good reason then I heartily suggest that you examine your conscience. But I fear you won't.

 As a grandson of a Holocaust survivor I appreciate your goodwill but not the tasteless gallows humour. I'd assumed we left behind all of those cheap jokes and withering barbs far behind me. Regrettably this is neither amusing or hilarious although maybe you still do think along those lines. In which case keep the laughter going but I'd rather not engage in any of that ghastly narrative.