Waiting For Answers

©Steve Gray 2026

The clock ticks in Andy’s room, a heavy silence seems to envelop him. He’s waiting for answers that sometimes don’t seem to arrive, or, not arrive on time. He sits at his desk, the top of it is strewn with his many things, writings, scribbles, pens, pencils and assorted ephemera. They often casually spill onto the floor, sometimes noticed and other times not. We gave up cleaning up and asking him to do so, it wasn’t worth the tantrums. No wonder he was picked on at times, at school. 

He told me recently that he was holding on to fragile things in his mind. Then casually added, ‘It seems to be easier to go searching in the dark than to face the quiet.’ I thought that was rather profound, but you would have to know Andy to get the details of that and its intent. Often we seek a word, a sign, a promise, anything, rather than this seemingly enduring absence of answers to life’s pressing issues. It’s the same with Andy, only his issues can seem different to ours.

People can be careless. They can communicate with sharp edges, offering ridicule instead of comfort, and look downward to seek the vulnerable to blame, perhaps they get a sense that it might somehow ease their life which may have been formed by trauma.

Anger is a blister on the soul. It leaves a loose thread that, if pulled, can break the spirit. Andy waits, wishing the cruelty of the world would fade away. He hoped the silence would finally break with the truth.

Then something changed…

The clock continued to tick, but for the first time, Andy didn’t hear it as a countdown to despair. Instead of searching in the dark to avoid the quiet, Andy sat still. He stopped searching for a sudden word, a sign, or a promise to fill the enduring absence. He simply breathed, allowing the lull to just be a space, this gave him room to somehow observe more.

Outside, the world still demanded some form of action. Andy somehow appreciated that it was just a bad habit of the wounded to hurt others, some form of an awkward, clumsy retaliation. It seemed as if they joined together in collective judgement, trying to make him feel even more distant.

He now had some degree of understanding that anger could crush his soul, and letting bitterness take root would increase his loss. Andy waited, no longer surprised by the cruelty of the world, and no longer defeated by it either. He had found a quiet truth. It seemed as though the light he was searching for, may have been with him all along.

‘Just as day came, the same was the case with night, and that too would pass.’

I recall our conversation in detail. It was a Monday, after school Andy came in the door. He didn’t go to his room as he normally would,  he sat down at the table and said, flat as anything:

‘ Dad… I figured something out.’

‘Yeah?’

‘They don’t hate me. They’re checking who gets upset or bothered. I got upset every time. So they kept doing it. If I don’t react the way they want, they stop.’

I sat and listened, there was some silence for a while. Then this… he said this.

‘You know, all the time I spent with people wanting to help me, teachers, saying this and that, and the speech therapist said, this and that, and the other people saying this and that. And I know you tried to help, but it all became just more of this and that. Now I have figured some of it out. It’s all about me finding out how not to react in a way they want.’

After some clarification of some details, the conversation started to fade, Andy wandered off, a happier tone in his voice and a subtle spring in his step. He was now in a happier place, and so was I.

Hours, in fact days of working with experts, reading information, exploring all sorts of options and possibilities for Andy. I thought he was depressed, I thought he was ‘this and that’ Yeah sure he’s neurodiverse, but now he’s figured something out for himself. Apparently he found some kids’ comic book on how neurodiverse people hear and experience things. He found it in the library and it gave him clues, starting points. 

He still experiences their taunts, jibes, and mimicking, but is actively exploring how to react differently or not at all. All of a sudden this has become a game changer. No longer is he just somehow ‘lost’ in his own world, he can now interact, spending time watching TV with others in the house. And less time buried in the dark recesses of his bedroom.

He had came to an understanding about how to ‘read’ people and what they might do next. In a way that worked for him, the ‘switch had been flipped’, he was now in the ‘light.’

I felt for Andy’s initial situation, and now I feel positively different for him.