Motherhood with Bipolar: Navigating Life with My Three Unique Sons - Neurodivergence

Matthew’s Way: A Beautifully Different Journey

Part 1 - Matthew…

Let me introduce my eldest son, Matthew. Now 23, late diagnosed level 1 autistic, a beautiful, brilliant soul with a mind like a kaleidoscope. As a child, he was shy. He’d linger at the edges of playgrounds, quietly observing, never quite stepping in. He preferred the company of books, patterns, and his own vivid imagination. While other kids played tag, he was trying to figure out why humans need to make such a fuss over everything.  He didn’t have many friends, but when he made a friend, they stuck.

He has always walked to his own beat since he was a child and had me scratching my head as to why he was so “weird”, not the crazy weird, but the beautiful, strange, and colourful weird. The different, weird, but then that just became Matthew.

He battled autism through school without anyone realising. His intelligence was dazzling, he could read before most kids, and his memory was so sharp it was like magic. Teachers praised his academic excellence, his quiet compliance, and his encyclopaedic knowledge. But we missed the signs: the exhaustion after social interactions, the rigid routines, the silent panic when he had to work in a group. He masked so well, smiling when expected, nodding on cue, that no one saw the toll it took.

His shyness wasn’t just about being quiet, it was a way of moving through a world that often felt too loud, too fast, too unpredictable. It was a shield, but also a compass. As a child, he’d line up his toys with careful precision, creating order where there was none. Later, he’d script conversations in his head before speaking, play guitar behind closed doors, and find comfort in routine. These weren’t signs of disconnection, they were signs of deep presence. He was always watching, listening, absorbing. His quiet wasn’t empty; it was full of thought, feeling, and attention. 

As he’s grown, our conversations have begun to drift, sometimes into quiet waters, sometimes down delightful detours. There’s a gentle rhythm to our bond now. And when he hugs me, rare, sacred moments, it feels like he’s handing me a piece of his universe. Those embraces are reminders that his love doesn’t always speak loudly.

Some days, the world feels overwhelming. On those days, we embrace the comfort of routine or simply sit together. There are moments when his unique perspective slices through confusion and brings clarity. His love doesn’t always roar, sometimes, it’s silent, gentle, or hidden in thoughtful acts, like the perfectly stacked plates in my kitchen cupboard or the little objects he leaves behind after he’s had enough of fidgeting with them. Each one a quiet reminder that he was there, thinking, exploring, creating.

Brutally honest and straightforward, he can come off rude at times, but you’ll always know where he stands. He takes a delightful detour from the usual social playbook, think less “How to Win Friends” and more “How to Decode Earthlings”. He compares facial expressions to cryptic emojis and tone of voice to a broken radio signal. Eye contact? That’s a staring contest he never signed up for. And sarcasm? Like trying to solve a riddle while blindfolded. Instead of pretending to fit in, he has figured out his own language, honest reactions, and a refreshingly unfiltered way to connect. He is slowly realising that it’s not about blending in, it’s about boldly broadcasting his own frequency and letting the right people tune in.

Matthew sees the world differently. He notices when something’s off-centre, picks up on patterns the rest of us miss, and brings a uniqueness to our lives. His personality shines in ways that are unmistakably his. He drives us absolutely mad with his fidgeting, rearranging of things, and when he sometimes insists on nonstop talking, especially when you’re trying to watch something on TV. And just when you think you’ve found a moment of peace, he’ll jump out of a dark room with his signature scare tactic, sending hearts racing and laughter echoing.  

He is one of a kind, a mind full of knowledge, a heart full of kindness, and a weird sense of humour. He may wrestle with social cues, but he always shows up with sincerity and his best foot forward. With one degree already earned and another underway, he’s proven his capability time and again. But my pride in him goes far beyond academics. I’m proud of the young man he’s choosing to become, someone who meets daily challenges with courage, integrity, and quiet determination.

We celebrate every milestone, every private joke that makes us giggle in unison, every brave step beyond his comfort zone. In our family, these little triumphs are proof that joy isn’t always about grand gestures but about sharing life’s quirks and victories, together. With him, every day is an adventure, sometimes puzzling, often hilarious, but always filled with heart.

Understanding my son can be tricky, like trying to read a book written in a beautiful, unfamiliar language. His thoughts zigzag, his reactions surprise, and his logic dances to rhythms most people don’t hear. But loving him? That’s the easy part. It’s in the quiet loyalty, the rare but radiant hugs, the way he leaves traces of himself in the smallest corners of our home. Loving him is instinctive, like breathing. He may not always speak the language of typical affection, but every day he teaches me that loving him is to show up, tune in, and embrace the extraordinary frequency he broadcasts so bravely.