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“If you’ve met one person with autism, you’ve met one person with autism.”

This saying rings truer every time I reflect on my experiences with the two incredible autistic boys in my life—my cousin J and my little nephew H.

Having a cousin on the spectrum, I thought I was prepared for anything. But then H came along, and I quickly realized that no two autistic individuals are the same. Each one is a unique world unto themselves, teaching us to adapt, observe, and love in ways we never expected.

Being an aunt or a cousin to someone with autism is a profound gift. It opens doors to emotions and connections that are both deeply rewarding and uniquely challenging. As an aunt, I get to pour unconditional love into my nephew, dreaming of playful cuddles and shared laughter. As a cousin, it’s a different bond—familiar yet distinct, filled with its own lessons. Despite the years between J and H, both have enriched my life immeasurably, showing me that autism isn’t a one-size-fits-all experience.

A Distant but Precious Connection with My Nephew H

H lives abroad and travels frequently, which makes our time together rare and treasured. We haven’t shared enough moments for me to claim expertise in approaching him, but I’ve learned to take a gentle, observer role. I position myself in his space without invading it—present but not overwhelming. This allows him to sense my warmth and approach me on his terms, when he’s ready and comfortable.

Distance adds layers to this dynamic. As his aunt, I ache to scoop him up, tickle him into giggles, and build forts or play games. But continents separate us, leaving only fleeting holiday visits to reconnect. Each time, it’s like starting anew: helping him grow familiar with me again, all while respecting his boundaries. It’s a quiet internal struggle—wanting to express affection freely, yet holding back to honor his world.

A More Intense Bond with My Cousin J

My time with J has been entirely different. He’s not one to retreat; he’s wonderfully invasive in the best way. He’ll lean right into your space, play with your hair, fiddle with your face, or chat enthusiastically (complete with the occasional spit-spray). It can feel uncomfortable at first, but I’ve learned to surrender to it. I become a calm, unflappable presence—no panic, no fuss. Resisting or reacting strongly could trigger frustration in him, so I let him explore those interactions. It’s about meeting him where he is, adapting my demeanor to keep things peaceful and positive.

This contrast between J and H highlights autism’s beautiful complexity. What works for one might not for another. With J, closeness is key; with H, space and patience build the bridge.

The Aunt’s Heart: Balancing Roles, Longing for Connection, and Guiding the Next Generation

Professionally working with autistic individuals is one thing—you adapt on the job, tailoring your approach to the person in front of you. But as an aunt, it’s personal. I crave for H to know the real me: my silly jokes, my warm hugs, the sincerity behind every gesture. Yet, family bonds come with emotional stakes. The biggest hurdle? Time—or the lack of it. Shared experiences are what deepen understanding, and with oceans between us, those moments feel precious and insufficient

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Another layer of challenge comes from having my own children—H’s cousins. They, too, need repeated time together to learn how best to love and play with him. Kids must get familiar with each other, adapt their expectations, and navigate playtime alongside a cousin on the spectrum. Just like adults, children thrive on consistency and shared moments to build their own unique bonds. Without that, every reunion feels like a fresh start, and the opportunity for organic cousin friendships slips away.

I know this firsthand from my own childhood with J. As a little girl, I’d experiment with different ways to approach him or play alongside him—quietly, carefully, always watching for cues. The pride I felt when he finally interacted with me or wove me into his play landscape was immense. But I was also wary of his quickly shifting moods and reactions, so I learned early to be non-threatening, soft-spoken, and adaptable. Even as a young child, I instinctively mirrored the calm presence I now consciously offer H. Those early lessons shaped me, and now I watch my own kids begin the same gentle dance of discovery.

Lessons Learned: Keys to Approaching Autism with Grace

Through J and H, I’ve distilled some essential principles for connecting with autistic loved ones—principles that apply to aunts, cousins, and even the youngest siblings in the family:

•  Be present: Show up consistently, without expectations.

•  Stay calm: A steady energy creates safety.

•  Avoid force or direction: Let them lead in their own world and play.

•  Observe and adapt: Tailor your approach to the individual—consistency builds trust.

•  Honor uniqueness: Remember, it’s never one-size-fits-all.

Autism has taught me flexibility, empathy, and the joy of unconditional love. To all the aunts, cousins, parents, and siblings navigating this spectrum: embrace the differences, cherish the small victories, and know that your patient presence makes a world of difference.