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We’ve got a good rhythm going on here. As the single dad to a 17-year-old neurotypical daughter and a 14-year-old nonverbal son, I’ve taken nothing for granted. I look at the life we’ve built over the last five years, and I’m proud.

You can call me Mr. Positive. The way I see my son’s autism is the way I’ve come to see the world. Since my heart surgery, I try to find the best in everything. My goal is to get things done without frantically running around. It seems simple because it comes naturally. A lot of people don’t get it.

Olivia is the same way, although the positivity has a teenage veneer on it. She is the hardest-working person I know, and the achievements she’s made are only the start. She’s fiercely protective and my ride-or-die. If Olivia doesn’t like you, she’s usually right.

Lucas, well, he goes without saying. Pun intended. Little Mr. Stretch Malone (formerly Chubs Malone) is the realest guy you’ll ever meet. The absence of words has left him with his emotions on full display. There’s nothing fake about this kid. My son is the purest person you’ve ever met.

As I mentioned, though, I’m a single dad. I want to let people into our lives and, in the past, I have. Have all the experiences been great? No. But have they been good? Again, mostly no.

But here’s the thing about letting people in: they’re not just meeting me. They’re stepping into a home that runs on silent routines and inside jokes in the form of smiles, nods, and the occasional scream that means happy. They’re walking into a life that doesn’t need fixing but does need understanding.

I’ve let people in before, only to find them trying to reinvent the wheel that has been running things here since the start. What most don’t get is that I’m not searching for a mother, for the kids or for me.

Some don’t get it. They’ll show up like an ornery Mary Poppins, insisting through passive-aggressive anger that we take spoonfuls of sugar and buy umbrellas. I appreciate the effort, but it’s not what I’m looking for. Slow your roll, Julie Andrews.

In fact, it’s not what any of us is looking for. While Lucas has met a handful of people, Olivia has only met one. Her opinion, however, carries a ton of weight. To paraphrase Canadian philosopher Justin Bieber, “My daughter don’t like you and she likes everyone.” So you can go and love yourself.

So what do I do? It’s hard enough to find true love in a digital social media world. What happens when you have a unique situation like mine? I spend half the week like a 1980s sitcom dad, trying to help a teenage girl navigate life, while also raising a nonverbal son with autism. This is a pilot that NBC would have passed on.

If it feels complicated, I can understand. To me, it often did too.

Finding someone with a child like Lucas always seemed like a good step. Sadly, it’s not the perfect match you’d expect. In fact, as strange as it sounds, it actually is the opposite in many cases.

The way I raise my son is unique. You can tell that from my posts. I receive emails from readers about trying to find the positive approach that I have. It took a while (and a near-death experience) to make it second nature. Not everyone has it, and not everyone is willing to live that way.

Inevitably, the cracks would come, and I’d see that the way others see a boy like mine doesn’t match up to my own view. Ironically, those without children on the spectrum are more open to learning and following my lead. Those who have their own situations at home tend to be more set in their ways (at least from my experience). It’s not the magical conjunction you might expect.

That’s a genuinely shocking thing to me. It took a few years to see it.

It’s not about patience. It’s about presence. It’s about someone who doesn’t flinch when Lucas drops to the floor in public. Someone who doesn’t look at Olivia and miss the strength behind the sarcasm. Someone who doesn’t see our rhythm as noise, but as music they want to learn.

Lucas is perfect, and I will never change how I treat him. The same goes for Olivia. Sure, guests in our home might have opinions, and they’re welcome to share. Some, however, insisted, raised their voices, and tried to come between us.

They’re gone now.

And that’s the biggest thing for me. It’s what steers me going forward and what I kick myself for not seeing earlier.

It’s all about peace.

Call me a hippie. Send me to Woodstock. I don’t care. Don’t care about what? About most things.

My kids mean the world to me. I will scorch the earth to protect them. The same can be said for anyone I love. Other than that, I’m good. There’s nothing else to get upset about. Ever.

Having a surprise quintuple bypass left me with a mindset that doesn’t sweat the small stuff. Hell, I don’t sweat most big stuff. We just get through it. We always have.

Some people don’t relate to that. They have their own approach, which is fine for them. The issue is that unless they share our calm and rational demeanor, it won’t work.

I have no interest in arguing or creating drama for the sake of drama. My goal isn’t to beat down those I love or mold them into something they’re not. It’s all about fitting together, within my life and my family. It’s all about enjoying the days we have left on Earth. It’s all about finding peace.

I’m not saying I’ve figured it all out. I’m not saying I’ve found the person either. (But I’m also not saying I haven’t.) I’ve learned to recognize what’s right when I see it.

Because I believe the right person won’t see Lucas as a test, or Olivia as a gatekeeper, or me as a project. Letting someone in means letting them see it all – the good, the hard, the silent, the sacred.

And if they stay?

Then maybe, just maybe, you’ve found someone worth letting in.

WHEN A CHILD WITH AUTISM MELTS DOWN, DON’T HIT RECORD

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❤️‍🩹My Scar: 13 Years After My Quintuple Bypass – as discussed on this week’s Hi Pod I’m Dad podcast on Spotify, Audible, and more. #autism #hearthealth #bypass #heartattack #healing
♬ original sound – James Guttman