The Things That Just Happen

Years of keen clinical observation, data-taking, and integration from both outside reports and lived experience strongly substantiate my clinical impression that sometimes autistic bodily actions just happen.

It goes something like this:

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That kid doesn’t want to hit their peer. There was a burst of anger, and it just happened.

They don’t want to hit their peer just like they did last week, and they pray they don’t, and then it just happens again

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They don’t want to raise their voice--a known antecedent to pushing staff. It just happened, and a hypervigilant staff reacts accordingly.

They don’t want to raise their voice like they did yesterday--they know what comes next--but it just happens again.

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They don’t want to yell violent statements when they clunkily drop their folder.

They don’t want to yell the same violent statements--but this time even worse—when they clunkily drop their coat. The statements scare peers, and they want friends. But the violent statements just happen again.

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They don’t want to fling their limbs around when told to hurry up with their assignment, but it just happens.

They don’t want to fling their limbs around and accidentally hit the teacher’s aide, but it just happens. So they are suddenly pinned to the ground and reminded they are a danger to themselves and others. The following day or month or year they fear themselves and what their body just happens to do.

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It just happens until it stops just happening and turns into the thing that happens to a once-spirited autistic kid who is now a passive participant in their own body—a gestalt ingrained in the worst of ways.

And even with the devastation of all this, years of keen clinical observation, data-taking, and integration from both outside reports and lived experience strongly substantiate my clinical recommendation: extend unconditional positive regard to giving these kids the benefit of the doubt.

From there, who knows what will happen?