Ghost Adventures is my favorite show right now. It’s the only show I watch; I’m stretched for time and find it convenient to watch on YouTube whenever I wish. Each show offers great history on the places they’re investigating, and I don’t have to watch the entire show in order to understand what’s going on.
But my admiration for Ghost Adventures is not why I am writing this. It goes beyond mere entertainment.
My son is autistic. He has been treated for several years and we have been satisfied with his slow but steady progress. We have gone through many different therapists and treatments. There have been times in the past when I’ve been very sad not knowing what the future holds for my son. I could say it’s been a trial. But it hasn’t. It’s been something else. Let me explain.
I began watching Ghost Adventures two months ago. I knew about the show but because of the timing I was never able to watch it. On Christmas I had an hour to myself and wanted a good laugh but found nothing. I decided on a good scare, and the search results brought up, “Ghost Adventures”.
The first full episode I watched, “Vulture Mine” was incredible. Who were these idiots? You’re not supposed to provoke the spirits (at least that’s what I learned in Catholic school)! And didn’t the bulky guy realize he couldn’t smack down his spiritual opponent? But I watched, transfixed.
The more nail-biting Ghost Adventures episodes I watched, the more fascinated I was by their provoking, not just the haunts themselves. Calling out all spirits, the good, the bad, and the evil in pitch darkness. Just three men, alone with their hand-held cameras. This was crazy!
Or was it crazy? After making the mistake of watching the “Bobby Mackey’s” episode before bedtime, I lay in my bed, wondering about the good and evil on this earth. I wondered if I had the guts to do what they did, walking in a supposed haunted place, pitch dark, with just my camera and imagination running wild.
In the quiet of my room, I realized the journey of treating my son is much like the journeys of the Ghost Adventures. My son’s autism is like walking into a haunted building in pitch darkness. There are few guides to help you. Most of the research leads to dead ends, to supposed autism treatments that are nothing but rooms of empty promises in an abandoned hospital. Doctors and other specialists leading me deeper and deeper into an unkept maze of contradictory advice. The ghosts of quack treatments litter the journey into darkness.
Humans fear the dark because the unknown lies before them. But the Ghost Adventures crew does the opposite of what “normal” people do. They call out the dark. They wait for answers to their questions. If there is no response, they continue into the darkness, provoking the spirits. If their questions are answered, they seek out the source, not run away.
My journey into my son’s autism is like a Ghost Adventures episode. I walk into the darkness. I demand answers. I usually receive no response. I will continue to provoke the unknown until I get an answer. I will be ready for it, no matter how terrifying it may be. I will not run away.
Hello Everyone,
