Autism Tips by Carrie Cariello
I Am Autism
I am autism. I am funny loud big. Yet I am quiet. I am a slippery riddle—a puzzle piece upon the bumper of a car, a black sentence upon white paper, a curious phenomenon. I am the month of April, and the color blue. I am a number. A statistic. A stereotype. I am a social story before July fireworks. A schedule fixed to the refrigerator. I am speech, and ABA, and occupational therapy. I am autism. I am a boy. I can be silly. I can be serious. I…
Read MoreHow Does He Feel Loved?
This morning I listened to a radio show, where a doctor explained that in times of isolation and fear, we need to feel loved in order to feel safe. He went on to say that something called oxytocin is our happiness hormone, and when it is released throughout our body, we feel a surge of positive emotion, or love. He said the most effective way to release oxytocin is to bond socially. In times of social distancing, it’s important that we each make eye contact, and experience touch. Hi. My…
Read MoreLove and Marriage and Our Son
I have been married for twenty-one years. My husband Joe and I have five kids. Our second son has autism. He is fifteen. Now, I may not know much, but I do know children exert an extraordinary amount of pressure upon a marriage. They like teeny-tiny constriction workers, yielding jackhammers If you add one in who never sleeps, smears soap on the walls, and screams all day, well, that’s when things get really interesting. You is righteous. You are never home on time. You have to take care of the…
Read MoreMom Asks ‘AITA’ For Not Making Daughter Invite Autistic Child To Her Party
Hi. My name is Carrie. I have five kids, and my second son is diagnosed with autism. He is fifteen years old, and his name is Jack. I write a lot about autism—how is affects me, and my family, and my son. Yet I rarely write about current events or news stories, unless it’s about a complicated kid making a buzzer-beater to win a basketball game at the last minute—that’s the kind of inspiring thing I can get behind, you know? Jack will never shoot a buzzer-beater during a game.…
Read MoreHere is Me
Here is me. I am Jack. Here is me, and here is my autism. See, I am a boy and a diagnosis tangled together like so many vines climbing a tree. I am the rustle of paperwork, and small white pills in a vial. I am honesty, and tenacity, and a body in motion. I am a boy trying to hide. I am downcast eyes. And a hopeful heart. I am repetitive behavior. And special meetings in an overheated conference room. I am letters on paper—a statistic., a number, a…
Read MoreThe Ability to be Vulnerable
Hi. My name is Carrie. I have five kids, and my second son is diagnosed with autism. His name is Jack. He is fifteen years old, and over six feet tall. As an autism mama, I am pretty used to advocating for the things we need, whether it’s an adjustment to his IEP, or a new kind of therapy, or a change in his medication. This has not always been easy for me. I have sat in many meetings, and through many appointments, with a bubble of rage in my…
Read MoreThe Skills We Have
When you were about six, we had a party at our house. By this point, you talked pretty well. You were still behind other kids your age, but you could get your point across for the most part and ask for juice and tell us which DVD you wanted to watch. Jack-a-boo, language has always been hard for you. You didn’t say a word until you were well past three. Sentences were slow to come. Even now, as a teenager, you hesitate for a few beats when someone asks you…
Read MoreHope, Grief, and Grace
My son Jack was diagnosed with autism when he was eighteen months old. It was a cold, gray afternoon in November. He was wearing a blue jacket. He’s fifteen now. A lot has happened since that day in November. I had three more kids and Jack learned to talk and then he learned how to pick the locks and run out the front door. I chased him like my life depended on it, because it did. Finally, we taught him how to hold our hand in the parking lot and…
Read MoreHow to Stay Sane
Sometimes I stand before people and I say stuff and then they ask me questions. How do you keep you marriage together with the stress of raising a child with autism? How can I get my son to stop biting/hitting/screaming/chewing/running? How is it you are so stunningly beautiful and well-dressed? Actually, I’ve never been asked that last question. I admit this to you in the spirit of full disclosure. When my son Jack was a little guy, throwing enormous fits and staying up all night and generally wreaking havoc on…
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