Trautism

One of my friends has a severely autistic son who is approaching legal adulthood, and they’ve been struggling with optics in public. It’s one thing for a younger child to have a meltdown, but unruly behavior on an older teenage boy is viewed very differently. That’s true even if one has the wherewithal to take a step back and think about the reasons why a boy at such an age might be acting like that, or why he’s hanging out with his well-composed mom. And my friend’s son needs to be out and about several times a day, no matter if it’s frigid or windy or raining, because he’s soothed by the excessive walking. I feel similarly comforted by this type of exercise, especially if I’m upset about anything, but fortunately my drive is not nearly as intense or persistent as his. I prefer to walk at least daily, but I’m usually satisfied by quick jaunts to the grocery store or the park around the block, whereas their excursions are much longer and planned to minimize abrupt stimulation like crowded sidewalks or noisy cars. 

She and I were chatting at our weekly date when this subject came up. She’d been feeling anxious about encountering strangers when her son gets acutely overwhelmed and acts out in public, a concern amplified by a spate of viral clips that capture people at their breaking points. Her approach to handling the unwanted attention was to apologize, often repeatedly. It’s an old habit of mine that my 19-year-old daughter recently reminded me of, so I fully understand where she’s coming from when she feels compelled to say it. However, my girl had also chastised me for it, so I found myself wondering aloud what would happen if my friend said “thank you” instead of “I’m sorry.” I’d seen it on a meme that had advised switching the two, as in “Thank you for your patience” instead of “I’m sorry for being late.” And I’ve long enjoyed expressing gratitude (often to an embarrassing degree), so it seemed reasonable. But why? And is it really better?

Saying “thank you” in lieu of “I’m sorry” in situations like this seems more beneficial for several reasons. First and foremost, gratitude is powerful. When a situation’s energy gets unruly, anchoring it to a concept like gratitude is usually quite constructive. We’re thankful for good things, so the word “thank” immediately fills the air with a sense that something positive has happened. When you then add “you,” the linguistic impact on the subconscious is that the good thing that happened is the result of something the listener has done, tying that positive energy to that person. A flattering notion in itself, and probably a reason we know it’s nice and polite to say thank you. We typically feel proud when we are thanked, even if we don’t know why we’re being appreciated. And sometimes particularly in the case of not knowing the reason for being thanked, our subconscious may feel extra flattered, because there’s something nice or neat about us that was not in our awareness, an Easter egg for our ego. 

In this case, a stranger might realize they’ve been giving grace and space to a devoted mother and her overgrown son – surely a naturally sweet boy, just locked in a perpetual state of frustration with an unmanageable sensory load. Or maybe they’d realize they weren’t being so kind, or at least that they didn’t intend to be so kind, but they appreciate that someone saw goodness in them, that someone believed they would want to do good for their fellow human. And maybe sometimes they then dig out, reconnect with, and nurture whatever goodness they’ve got. 

But of course blurting out anything to strangers, even “thanks,” can be a little tricky. Like everything we do, intention matters. Ideally the speaker would be reasonably grounded and mindful when they deliver the gratitude, properly imbuing the phrase with its pure and loving intent. And while a flippant or snarky “thank you” could come off as passive aggressive, even gratitude delivered in a sharp tone of voice is hard to begrudge or otherwise attack. Language matters; it encodes our reality. So when our subconscious has the opportunity to digest all the flowery beauty of “thank you,” and especially when we’re tempted by the other good feelings lingering around that concept, we don’t want to classify it as negative. The ego doesn’t want to give up the Easter egg. So the subconscious can easily justify away any perceived offense: She must really be struggling if that’s how she says thank you. Most strangers are happy to leave it at that, assuming they’ve even followed their mental thread that far. Another possibility is eliciting some inadvertent pity, which isn’t ideal but is definitely better than overt antagonism: Well at least I’ve got it more together than THAT person. Pity is an easier energy to shake off. 

Relatedly, saying “I’m sorry” creates an air of negativity. Someone is apologizing, so something bad has happened. The speaker is the one who did the bad thing, whatever it is, so any negativity in the environment can then coalesce around the speaker, an impromptu lightning rod. And not only is the speaker then the subject of negative unwanted attention, they have put themselves in a position of weakness at that focal point by acknowledging they have done something wrong. They are guilty! Make them pay! Humans are good at heart, so we can get very upset when we think someone has misbehaved. Especially if we have unresolved pain in us, then the opportunity to confront new bad behavior is a chance for our subconscious to avenge an old wound. It can escalate quickly and be truly dangerous. The subconscious can be a total gangster. Yeah, you better be sorry! I’ll give you something to be sorry for! By weakening oneself and drawing negativity to oneself by saying “I’m sorry” in this way, one multiplies their problems instead of diffusing them. 

Apologizing like this is also inaccurate. Like many people with autism, I’m a big fan of accuracy, including the old adage “mean what you say, and say what you mean.” The inappropriate use of apology threatens its cultural potency in the same manner that the mindless use of “I love you” can demean that beautiful phrase. When my friend says sorry, I imagine she’s like me, or rather a former version of myself, and apologizing because she believes she has bothered other people. But what’s the bother to others? Her petite frame guarding and wrangling an unpredictable young man’s body at least twice her size? Her son being his best self under the mysterious, chaotic internal circumstances he’s dealing with? He’s bothered too. Something upset him first, whether in his external environment or somewhere in his mind or heart, otherwise he wouldn’t have acted out. And he’s working really hard to keep it together, just like his mom. Just like all of us are, to some degree or another, right? Especially with the myriad of stressors in modern life these days. So hopefully anyone involved would remember their common humanity and just politely excuse any disruption, apology or not, and peacefully go on with their day.

Of course, none of what I’m saying is meant to undermine the true value or purpose of apology. And I’d wager a good guess that sometimes my friend does owe an apology to someone, if an autistic outburst from her son physically impedes another person or damages something. Legitimate and heartfelt apologies serve a critical function in our relationships and in society at large. When someone has truly wronged someone else, no matter how small the offense may seem to one or the other, the appropriate response is a timely, specific, and meaningful “I’m sorry…” But simply being us and doing our best doesn’t qualify as an offense. So recently I’ve been learning to check my kind and loving heart a bit better, and resist the urge to spontaneously apologize for simply existing as myself. 

A special thank you to Nick Jonas for inspiring this specific practice in my life. I’ve long understood the power of gratitude – it has freed me from grief and anxiety many times, including after my mom died when I was 20 – but until he demonstrated it, I’d failed to appreciate its value in simply being applied to awkward situations. It happened many years ago on The Voice, one of the singing competition shows on TV. Blake Shelton told his fellow judges that he loved them. Kelly Clarkson, the bright and beautiful soul that she is, cheerfully and immediately reciprocated. John Legend must have sat this one out. But Nick smiled warmly, and with his right palm snug over his heart, staring Blake straight in the eyes, responded with a most genuine “thank you.” That was it. It was hilarious, but also powerful, and instructive. Maybe my next post will be about turning up chin music.