I make a big deal out of my low-stress approach to life. After my surprise heart surgery in 2012, I realized that things I had worried about so much had never come to fruition while something that wasn’t even on my radar nearly did me in.

That’s not to say that stress doesn’t creep into my system. It’s there. How can it not be? I’m alive and it’s a byproduct of living. Difficult situations unfold, tough decisions loom, and the threat of everything crashing down hangs over even the best of times.

Rather than make it my focal point, I try to focus on the positives. There’s no reason to mope around over hardships. Have some coffee, take a seat, and try to relax all you want… the real world is always just a phone vibration away from pulling you back in.

And that’s where my son Lucas comes in.

For many outside our walls, my non-verbal 12-year-old is seen as a challenge that the universe has sent to me. Prayers are offered on social media and commendations for my patience as a father. I appreciate every word they say and recognize the good place it comes from. I also wonder if people truly understand my situation.

The weeks of my life are split down the middle and when my kids aren’t here, time becomes fluid. I can finish tasks as they come up and any slot is open for a Zoom call. I have no children relying on me outside of occasional texts from my daughter telling me about beauty supplies she’s running low on.

When my children return, though, it all comes rushing back to me like Celine Dion. There are lessons to be driven to and bell times to arrive before. Life becomes busy. Within minutes, I feel more important than ever. Daddy’s back.

This should be the time for stress, right? Now my life, so delicately balanced for the week, is thrown into a tizzy with new responsibilities. It only makes sense. If ever, one would think, I should be tearing my hair out, it would be now.

But I don’t. In fact, while exhausting on levels I can’t even begin to explain, there’s no real stress or agitation. Lucas deserves a lot of credit for that.

The reason he is singled out for this particular dad-saving skill is that Lucas doesn’t really “do” stress. My boy is in the moment like no other. Tomorrow doesn’t loom and yesterday is vanished. Whatever he wants, he wants right now. His Zoom calendar is always open and, most times, he’s ecstatic.

All he wants is a hug, tickle, or to jump for joy over his favorite YouTube videos. His enthusiasm is infectious. I can’t be anything but happy when he’s around because, well, he won’t let me.

He forces me to be present. It’s hard to stress anything in your adult life when your joyous little fella pulls your arm so you get up and dance to Raffi. He doesn’t take “no” for an answer. No one keeps me flowing in a positive direction like he does.

This is where some nay-sayers might point out the work that comes with raising a child with autism, like Lucas. My boy will require some sort of care forever and that prospect itself creates long-term worries that are sometimes harder to avoid, but they are all part of being a parent. The same can be said with the tasks that come with our day-to-day responsibilities.

Work goes into raising any kid. The work that comes with Lucas is different than the work that comes from raising his teenage sister, who doesn’t have autism. However, it’s still part of my life and something that only feels insurmountable to outsiders because they haven’t had 12 years to acclimate those duties into their lives. It’s part of our routine here. Tough? Sure. But it’s ultimately just another part of the day.

These things are worth it to have a boy like him. We do for our kids because we love them. The same way a person with no children might not envy the work of a person with a neurotypical kid is the same way those parents might look at me. It’s all the same. We love our kids. We raise them because we do. People outside our situations might not get it, but we do.

And even those challenges themselves that come with raising Lucas are points that pull me from life’s stresses. It’s hard to focus on an upcoming Powerpoint presentation deadline when you suddenly find the giant bag of Pirate Booty exploded all over the den like Christmas morning. Some days I just end up laughing during disasters like that. He’ll laugh along with me. The highway pauses as we deal with life in our driveway.

Self-soothing is a huge part of Lucas’s world and it’s that approach to life that makes him so important to have in mine. He rarely pushes away a hug and now, at an age when many kids would be too cool for Dad, my son still treats me like a celebrity.

Lucas sees me as special and I take that feeling with me into my life. I have confidence in the person I am because of him.

Yes. My non-verbal son needs me. I know that. But I need him just as much, if not more.