Living With Autism: If It Were My Kid’s Weird Roommate

Living with autism is a bit like living with a housemate you didn’t exactly sign a lease with, but who turned up anyway and refuses to leave. And while some days this buddy can be demanding, exhausting, and leave biscuit crumbs in my shoe (true story - don't ask!), other days they’re quirky, funny, and kind of adorable in their own chaotic way.

So today, instead of the heavy stuff, the midlife stuff, the family life stuff or indeed, the rambling for no real reason stuff, I’m going to introduce you to our third wheel - Autism, the buddy.

Yes, we're talking about the one who insists on tagging along to family life, car journeys, and even trips to Aldi. Who requests the same style of shoes three winters in a row, gets the blame for 'difficult door handles', and insists on a pair of sunglasses, even when we're at 98% grey cloud coverage.

Oh, and let's not forget, the one who encourages my son to theatrically complain when the rice is too plain, too spicy or too eggy!

Yup, that's our buddy, Autism. And for anyone still confused, I'm now going to spell it out. Literally.

A – Awkwardly Honest

Autism doesn’t do small talk. Or big talk. Or “how are you?” unless specifically prompted. Instead, you get the kind of honesty that makes strangers blink twice.

Daughter: “Do you like my drawing?”

Son: “What is it? I don't know what it's meant to be. What are you even trying to do there?”

Thanks, Autism. A walking truth serum. Brutal, but somehow refreshing in a world where most people lie about loving their auntie’s soup.

U – Unfiltered Commentary

Living with autism means daily commentary that nobody asked for, but everybody remembers. Watching TV? Expect a breakdown of why the special FX are unrealistic. In Tesco? Get ready for an announcement that the man buying toilet roll breathes like Darth Vader.

It’s like living with a pint-sized sports commentator, except the sport is 'life' and the commentary has no off switch.

T – Time Traveller Energy

Autism doesn’t really do 'now'. It’s either stuck on rewind (replaying last week’s YouTube video on kitchen gadgets in Dolby Surround Sound), or it’s hurtling forward to worry about something happening three years from Tuesday.

Also, living with autism means bedtime conversations such as:

“Mum, you know earlier, when I was talking about Minecraft and you said it's not your thing? Why isn't it your thing? What makes it not your thing?”

Sleep tight, son.

I – Interesting Obsessions

This buddy loves a theme. When autism decides to take on domino rallies, you’d better believe you’ll learn the difference between a 3D pyramids and a super sonic speed wall before your first coffee.

The flip side? You suddenly become a walking encyclopaedia. I’ve sat in on the phone to the in-laws, nodding wisely about the differences between British and Cypriot climates. And they never for one moment suspected that my 'expertise' came from a 9-year-old sidekick with cake frosting in his hair.

S – Scripted But Sweet

Autism has a habit of echoing conversations. As I've already mentioned (yes i see the irony here!), my son repeats lines from YouTube videos or movies, slotting them into real life like Lego bricks.

And sometimes? It’s comedy gold. The other day I was cooking pasta when my son walked in, span round three times, and then launched into the ‘Top 20 Kitchen Gadgets You Need to Buy’.

Straight from a Dave Hacks, straight to my heart.

M – Meltdown Moments (with Marshmallows)

Let’s not sugarcoat it: meltdowns are hard. Autism the buddy doesn’t ask politely for space. It arrives like a thunderstorm with added decibels.

But, I know that once the storm passes, my sweet kid comes back. He’ll cosy into my shoulder, hair sweaty, eyes still wet, and say, “Sorry, Mummy.” And I’ll remind him that there’s nothing to be sorry for, because this buddy isn’t bad, it's just different.

And of course, living with autism means marshmallows after the meltdowns. Because snacks heal faster than time.

So What’s It Like, Really?

Living with autism isn’t neat. It doesn’t come with IKEA instructions or a free Allen key. Instead, it’s messy, loud, hilarious, and occasionally heartbreaking. But it’s also jam-packed with honesty, obsession, laughter, and love.

If autism were really a buddy, I’d still moan about them leaving three different hats on the stairs, but I wouldn’t swap them for the world. Because, truth is, autism is just part of who my son is. And my life, our life, would be far less colourful without it.

So next time someone asks me what living with autism is like, I might just smile and say:

“It’s like living with a buddy who never shuts up, always tells the truth, and keeps teaching you things you didn’t know you needed to learn. Chaotic, yes. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

P.S. If this resonated with you on some level, if it pulled on your heart strings and made you say "Yes I live with a buddy too", my book Raising an Emotionally Charged Ostrich is packed with the same emotionally tug. Grab a copy on Amazon, or if you'd prefer a signed edition, just drop me a message.

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 "Autism is not a processing error. It's a different operating system."

Sarah Hendrickx