Reciprocity

It's key, isn't it, to happy human relations? Unless you are on the autism spectrum? What if you are neurotypical, but some of your loved ones are not?

This situation is becoming more recognised amongst adults in relationships, but I don't hear much about the frustration of being the mother of someone who makes me work very, very hard in so many ways. I could burst with excitement for all the things I would like to ask P when I pick him up from school, or at any other time really. Because S has added such a layer of disruption to communications, I almost forget sometimes that things can actually get worse, not better, when I do have the opportunity to try to converse with P. I am met with a lot of silence. Sometimes I assume he doesn't understand my question; sometimes perhaps he just doesn't see the point of giving me an answer. Sometimes I struggle so hard to interpret what he does say that I am quickly worn out, and of course the longer I spend trying to untangle an interaction, the more likely he is to disengage ...

Since I am confessing to no-one in particular here, let me be honest; sometimes I get resentful. I just want a crumb of reciprocity, no not one crumb, I want much, much more than that. Yesterday I was very brusque with him. I was weary of the vagaries of our interactions, the need to repeat myself, to ask him to repeat himself, the wandering off before a conversation or a task is finished, the lapsing into silliness, all without the restorative little moments of sharing that I imagine other mothers have with their children, which in fact I sometimes have with other people's children, when I am left stunned at how straightforward and satisfying it has been to ask something, be looked in the eye, and receive a direct, relevant response.

Sometimes when I listen to the children's readers in P's class, a child will look at my face to see if they have got a word right. It is a startling experience. It fills me with sadness. I know my children love, want and need me, but I yearn for that simple expression of our connection. Having said that, I am reminded of a case where P does exactly that; a few times this year, someone has done something designed to amuse him. He has not quite known what to make of these occasions, and has sought out my face repeatedly. Sometimes I have kicked myself for not being quite ready for it, as it generally takes me by surprise; if I don't give him what he's looking for, he might stop trying to find it ... Having got some of my dissatisfaction out of the way in this post, it must be said that I am optimistic that we can build on such flickers of reciprocity. The work can, however, sometimes feel unrewarding.