Hello Thirteen

Cooper’s disability is invisible until it’s not.

We don’t blend in, Cooper and me.  Not that we ever did, but I’ll admit when he was smaller it was easier. We got by with the grace strangers bestowed on energetic toddlers and precocious kindergartners. But thirteen. Well, thirteen is a whole different story.

Thirteen is five feet, four inches tall. Thirteen is size 10 shoes. Thirteen can be mistaken for a man. Except, cognitively, he’s not thirteen because he has autism. The kind that seems to freeze him at certain points in development. The kind I didn’t know existed before I belonged to him.  

The weight of his autism isn’t always visible at times. I know that because most days I help him carry it. With armor on, I pave the way, while softening his edges to the world. Our whole family really does. 

Cooper has what’s known as an invisible disability. Meaning he has a condition that can’t be seen by the naked eye. It can be confusing for people and leaves me wondering if we have to look a certain way to get grace in this world. 

In simple terms, an invisible disability is a condition that is not visible from the outside yet can limit or challenge a person. Autism is a perfect example. Unfortunately, the very fact that their symptoms are invisible can lead to misunderstandings, false perceptions, and judgments.

We’ve all been there. You see someone pull their vehicle into a handicapped spot, get out, and walk into the store. You look and can’t find the disability. Your first reaction is most likely to judge. Our family knows this judgment well.