Category Archives: Autism Acceptance

Having it All Often Means Doing it All

*The title of this post is said in a joking, not exactly sarcastic way, but certainly not in a serious way.  Throw in an eye roll as you read and a knowing grin, and you’ll get it!

So much to tell you, but where to begin?

For Mother’s Day my wonderful husband decided he would interview me on his radio show and asked if I wanted to invite a couple other moms to come on  the show too.   “Yes, please!” I said and promptly invited my friends, Ibby Grace of the blog Tiny Grace Notes (AKA Ask an Autistic), Paula Durbin-Westby, who has two blogs, one with her name as its title and the other – Autism Acceptance Day (which is a terrific resource filled with interviews among other things) and Lauri Swann Hunt of the fabulous website and blog Ollibean, where both her son Henry and Amy Sequenzia often post among many other wonderful writers.  The show aired last night at 8:30PM – 10:00PM Eastern Daylight Savings Time and has been archived ‘here‘ for those who would like to listen.  We do not have a transcript of it yet, but my fabulous friend Alyssa of the blog, Yes, That Too, suggested we break it into ten minute chunks, which means we need eight more people to volunteer.   Anyone who is so inclined can contact me here or at emmashopeblog@gmail.com and we will get a transcript written!

I meant to write a post about all of this yesterday so anyone who wanted to listen live, could, but Richard came down with some sort of stomach bug that kept him up for the better part of the night and Em woke up in the middle of the night complaining of a sore throat.  When I went to her she was burning up, so I stayed with her for the rest of the night.   By yesterday morning, which was also the first day of my “play date with jewelry” trunk show, I realized, I was not going to be able to keep all the necessary balls in the air.  It was that moment when you realize the reality and what you had envisioned, were not meshing even remotely and so priorities needed to be set.  Nic, who was off early to go on a three-day field trip, made it out the door without mishap.  A doctor’s appointment for Em was secured. Joe, Em’s devoted, dedicated and all around amazing therapist, was called in for reinforcements. Richard was checked in on and given liquids between preparations for my trunk show.

By the way, the show continues today, for those who might be interested in playing with jewelry and seeing my Transitions Collection, which I’ve finally gotten up on my Ariane Zurcher Jewelry website, and joining me to play with the real thing and so I can give a live demonstration of all the various possibilities, many of which the website does not yet have or do.

AZ jpg evite

So given that the day was not proceeding as optimally as planned, it was kind of fitting and perfect that Richard, albeit, groggily, insisted that the radio show (dedicated to motherhood and all that entails) must go on as planned!  So it did. And other than a couple of minutes when Richard and I were inexplicably tossed out of the show, it was great fun, everyone was wonderful and I think Paula Durbin-Westby may need to seriously consider hosting her own radio show in the foreseeable future!  As I said at the end of the show, it is these Moms and women like them, who have helped me be a better mother to both my children.  I am so lucky and very, very grateful.

Merlin Assists in Preparing for the Trunk Show

Merlin:Jewelry 

Where There’s Anger There’s Fear

It’s taken me decades to figure out that whenever I am angry, fear is lurking.  All kinds of people talk about the association between anger and fear, but it was not a thought I was able to appreciate.  It’s still not the first thought I have when I am angry about something.  It’s not even the second thought.  In fact, I’m lucky if it’s something I can remember at all when I’m angry.  Yet, if I look back on all those years when I was so very frightened of my daughter’s diagnosis and what I assumed that meant for her future, I see how linked the two were.  But it was the fear that grabbed me by the throat and no matter what I did, it seemed unaffected and unwilling to let me go.  It was the fear that made itself known to me; the anger was far more subtle and insidious.

“When you sense a threat  your mind generates fear and anger.  The fear you generate is part of a flight response from your physiology. Anger is the emotional energy you generate for the fight against that perceived threat.  What can be confusing is that your mind creates fear and anger even when the threat is just imagined.” ~ Pathway to Happiness

I understood things like the above paragraph.  In a calm state of mind, it made perfect sense that my anger was rooted in tremendous fear, even if imagined.  What did the future hold for my daughter?  How was she going to get through life?  How would we be able to keep her safe?  How would she fend for herself?  Would she be able to fend for herself?  Who would take care of her once we were gone?  Fear.  Fear.  Fear and more fear.  And then, without even realizing it, I would find myself furious.  Enraged.  And my rage found the perfect target.  Autism.  Autism was what I was furious with.  Autism was what the problem was, so it stood to reason that if I could remove it, all would be well.  So this is what I set out to do.  Except that my daughter happened to be Autistic.  But if I didn’t say it that way I could continue to separate the two.  I could continue to tell myself I was fighting the autism and not her.  I could continue to believe that my anger with autism would not affect her.

“Anger is the natural emotional reaction to what the mind and imagination are doing.  The way to overcome anger is to change  how the mind imagines stories and how much you believe them.  When the mind imagines painful scenarios you naturally produce anger.  To reduce and eliminate the anger it is necessary to shift the stories that the mind imagines.” ~ Pathway to Happiness, Understanding Anger

That quote more than any other sums up exactly what happened.  I had to change the story that my mind was imagining.  Instead of thinking – my daughter is locked inside an autistic cage that I need to find the key to free her from – I had to examine everything I thought I believed and start from scratch.  I had to rethink how I viewed autism, my daughter and how the two were completely intertwined and one.  I had to dissect all my preconceived ideas about autism and Autistic people and what I thought that meant.  I had to be open to other ideas about it.

For me that began with reading books.  First books like Representing Autism by Stuart Murray, Unstrange Minds by Roy Richard Grinker and Autism and Representation Edited by Mark Osteen and then I found blogs written by Autistic people, see the Resources page on this blog.  From there I began developing relationships with Autistic adults, not just the occasional interaction, but real friendships.  People I have grown to love deeply.  I had to find people who were non-speaking, or spoke intermittently.  I had to find people who were obviously Autistic and couldn’t “pass”, I had to spend time with those people.  And what I found was that far from being miserable, these people were living their lives, doing things, had found purpose and meaning and were active in their communities.  The very things I had been told could not, would not be possible for my child.

Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.” ~ Victor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning 

A and E_2185And so I found I had a choice.  I could choose to continue to live in fear of autism and all that people were telling me Autism meant or I could choose to embrace my Autistic child, learn, enjoy and let go of all that anger and fear as it came up, as it continues to come up.  Each time I feel fear and anger, and I do on a daily basis, I now know I have a choice.  I can fall into the fear and anger or I can step back from it, realizing it’s a mirage, realizing that as painful and real as it feels it is not a fact, it is a construct of my thinking and I can sit with it and not react to it.  Because my fear has me running away and my anger has me shouting, either action keeps me apart from others.  I have learned that the answer to both is to do something else.  And that is this – walk towards instead of away, speak lovingly instead of shouting and pushing away.

“Will She Be Okay?”

“Will she be okay?”  This was the question that went unanswered for the first nine years of my daughter’s life.  

“Will she be okay?” I asked every autism specialist, neurologist, pediatrician and anyone else who seemed vaguely knowledgable.  This question actually had almost nothing to do with the child I saw before me and everything to do with how I felt.  I so wanted reassurance.  I so wanted and needed someone to tell me she was going to be okay, whatever okay meant.  Whatever world “okay” occupied, I wanted to know, really know that my child was going to be embraced and fully in the “okay” of it all.  

“Will she be okay?”

Like the children’s story about the baby bird who’s fallen from its nest and asks all manner of creatures it meets “Are you my mother?” I desperately wanted someone to put their arm around me and say those seemingly magical and reassuring words – “Yes.  I promise.  She’s going to be just fine.”  But none did. So on I went, searching, trying every therapy, remedy, every crazy combination of vitamins, diets, homeopathy, naturopathy, healer, energy worker, cranial-sacral therapist, shaman, neurologist, developmental pediatrician, speech therapist, occupational therapist who held out the promise that all would be okay if only I did whatever it was they believed would make her “okay”. 

“Will she be okay?”  

When we finally ended our campaign to cure our daughter, our campaign to help her accelerated.  But this didn’t happen in a vacuum.  We had support.  And the support we were given came from other Autistic people. In retrospect, had I known my friend Ibby, I would not have asked “will she be okay?”  Had I met Tracy Thresher, Larry Bissonnette, Jamie Burke, Jennifer Seybert or any of the other people I’ve had the good fortune to physically meet, I would not have felt the need to ask repeatedly whether my daughter would be okay, because I would have known she already was.  That question would not have occurred to me to ask, because these people, many of whom do not speak or more often than not do not speak, or as in Ibby’s case speak, but when stressed, is unable to, are living their lives fully and they certainly know joy.  Each of them has grown up in a society that underestimated them.  All of them have been doubted and had to prove their intelligence over and over to those who are unwilling to see the evidence before them.   

“Will she be okay?”

We, as a society, must stop forcing people we deem different or less than to prove their worth.  We, as a society, must look inward and start asking ourselves, not “will my autistic child be okay?” but “what can we do to accommodate Autistic people so that all can flourish and be included?”

In the end, that’s all I really want for both my children.  I want them to feel a part of a society that supports them. 

“Will my child be okay?”

She IS okay.  Right now at this moment.  It’s up to the rest of us to recognize this.

Em singing “Clumsy” for Ibby and Emily last night

Em's performance 

Be the Very Best YOU, You Can Be

There’s a great deal of talk about acceptance regarding autism this month, which is a wonderful shift from all the talk about “awareness”.  As I think more about acceptance I am aware of how often I think about “embracing” as in embracing all that each of us is, without trying to mold ourselves to be something we aren’t.  What if instead of doing everything in our power to force our autistic children to behave like some imaginary and impossible non-Autistic version of themselves, we instead encouraged them to be the very best Autistic them they could be?  The same way we do everything in our power to help our non Autistic children be the very best they can be.

Isn’t that what all of us are trying to do?  Aren’t we all trying to be the very best we can each be?  So what does that look like, how do we do that?  Well, by recognizing what we’re good at, for starters.  One of my brothers is an astrophysicist and the other is a micro-biologist.  My mother was a chemist, my father a financial advisor and I don’t have a “science-y” gene in my entire body.  In college I did everything in my power to avoid both science AND economics.  These subjects are of no interest to me.  Were someone to tell me, well, you know, your most successful same age peers all love and excel at these topics, therefore you need to apply yourself more to them, and I was then forced to take these classes and was not allowed to pursue my love of art, drawing, design, literature and writing, I would be miserable.

I don’t want to spend my life crunching numbers, looking at stock portfolios, and peering through microscopes.  None of that interests me.  Hand me a book on quantum physics and I fall asleep.  The only good that comes from giving me books like that to read is the money I save on unfilled Ambien prescriptions.  I will never be, nor do I want to be, a scientist or economist, I accept this fact completely.  I don’t feel ashamed by my lack of interest.  I don’t feel this is something I should feign interest in.  I have other interests and talents; I focus on those and am very happy.  That’s what we all do.  We avoid the things we aren’t so great at, and often have little interest in, and focus on what does interest us and where our talents lie.  If we were lucky we also had parents who encouraged, supported and cheered us on in pursuing those interests.

Why should any of this be different for our Autistic children?  I don’t want Emma to try to be someone she isn’t.  I want Emma to be the very best Emma that she can be.  Which means I need to support her interests and help her find the best way to communicate.  Verbal language is tough for her, typing seems to help her access a part of her mind, that verbal language cannot, so we are doing all we can to support her typing.  How she communicates is not as important as that she be able to.  She loves to perform and sing loudly, so we have a variety of microphones and an amp that she can use to hone her singing skills.  She loves her books, so in between reading her favorite Miss Spider book, I am teaching her about arachnids, what they eat, how long they live, how many legs they have and how they spin webs.  Spiders are actually kind of fascinating. Even though Emma loves the Miss Spider books because one of them includes an electrical storm (lesson plan coming on that topic soon!) and Miss Spider has a great many big emotions, which Emma likes to act out, complete with wringing her hands and pretend tears and cries of anguish, there are a great many topics I can piggy back on, to teach her about things like – the weather, electrical storms, any and all big emotions, pretend and real, etc.

I want to encourage her to explore all of these things and more.  Last night she wanted to watch a really bad movie that she’d seen her brother Nic watching about a two-headed shark who attacks a group of teenagers.  And despite my misgivings about the content (and just awful quality of the movie in general… The acting is phenomenally bad, the shark is the best thing in the movie) it was age appropriate and I figured I could turn it off if it got too gory and awful.  There was a great deal of emoting and blood curdling screams, which Emma thought hilarious.  She kept saying, “Watch out, the shark is going to come and eat you!  Oh no!  He’s going to bite your arm off!”  Then she pretended to bite me.  Bad movie, great time was had by all AND I now have another lesson plan I intend to create regarding sharks!

Be the very best YOU, you can be.  Now that’s the kind of acceptance I can get behind!

Acceptance And A Webinar

When my daughter was diagnosed first with PDD-NOS and later with autism, I easily fell into the ~ I-completely-love-and-accept-my-daughter-but-I-do-not-accept-her-autism ~ mindset.  At the time, this seemed perfectly logical and I didn’t think a great deal more about it.  Autism was the “problem” after all, not her, and once we got rid of the autism, everything else would fall into place.  When people said the word “acceptance” and “autism” in the same sentence I nodded my head yes, while my mind carefully separated autism from my daughter, plucked the word from the sentence and placed it into a box before closing the lid.

It took a very long time for me to understand that my daughter and autism were not to be separated.  And it wasn’t until I began developing real friendships with Autistic adults that I stopped trying or wanting to separate the two.  Acceptance is much more than tolerating something or saying – okay I won’t actively fight this any longer.  Acceptance is an embrace, it’s understanding and actively celebrating difference, it’s about looking inward and asking questions.  It’s about self-reflection and digging deep into the darkness of preconceived beliefs and being willing to be wrong.  It’s about saying – I don’t know and I don’t understand, will you help me?  It’s about being vulnerable and not “right” and it’s about the excitement of discovery and being curious and open to different ways of being and seeing the world.  To me, it is the most exciting way to live life.

To say I’m grateful to all those people in my life whose neurology falls under the Autistic label, would be a vast understatement.

Today at 4PM eastern time, Brenda Rothman of Mama Be Good, Melody Latimer of AS Parenting and I will be speaking about Parenting Toward Acceptance.  The webinar can be found at the following link – http://www.icdl.com.

In other news, I was more than a little surprised to see this – Top 10 Social HealthMakers

Light it up Blue? – No

I must interrupt my previously planned programming regarding the recording of Barb’s audio book, I might be you and mention the “light it up blue” campaign from Autism Speaks, as April is fast upon us.  I know a great many, really well-meaning people will be “lighting it up blue” on at least one day in April, but I urge you to reconsider.  For those of you who love reading links to other relevant posts on the topic, here you go…

Warning April is Coming! ~ Gareeth’s Blog

Autism Acceptance Day ~ This blog was started by Paula Durbin-Westby and originally began as a way to counter the “awareness” that Autism Speaks suggests it is promoting.

Tone it Down Taupe This April!! ~ From Radical Neurodivergence Speaking an alternative to the “light it up blue” campaign!  This is a MUST read and it’s also very funny.

For those of you who can’t cope with yet another link, let me try to explain.  ”Lighting it up blue” seems like a perfectly benign and thoughtful thing to do, yet what is meant as a token gesture of caring and thoughtfulness, is actually anything but that.  Lighting it up blue is an ad campaign by Autism Speaks.  It is less about bringing any real awareness about autism or the lives being led by those who are Autistic and everything about branding and promoting that brand that is Autism Speaks.  It is a brilliant campaign.  Most people who “light it up blue” believe they are showing solidarity and support to Autistic people.  Most people would be shocked to know that Autism Speaks is the single most powerful organization promoting fear of autism by using language to describe autism as a “terrifying epidemic,” “a crisis” and Autistic people as “burdens” to society.

This quote is taken from Autism Speaks website:

“Acceptance
Ultimately, you may feel a sense of acceptance. It’s helpful to distinguish between accepting that your child has been diagnosed with autism and accepting autism.”

This sentence encapsulates everything I once believed and thought about autism and my autistic child.  This idea is incredibly destructive and insidious in it’s seemingly benign wording, but it is anything but that.  If we separate out the person from their neurology, what do we have?  How do we do that?  What exactly does this mean?  This sentence from Autism Speaks is exactly what is wrong with the organization.  You cannot accept your child while NOT accepting their neurology.  It is not possible.  Yet this is exactly what I believed for many years to the detriment of my child’s well-being, to the detriment of her self-esteem, to the detriment of who and what she is.  But I didn’t know that.

“Lighting it up blue” is not helping any of our children or those who are Autistic.  The only one who is benefiting from this campaign is the organization who came up with it – Autism Speaks.

So before you head to the hardware store to find some blue light bulbs or open your check book, please, reconsider.   Think how you would feel if this campaign was about your neurology.  Because as Barb Rentenbach has so beautifully written in her book that I am currently recording the audio version for,

I might be you.

The Impact of Acceptance and Non-Acceptance

My friend Steve Summers wrote this a few days ago.  I asked Steve if I could repost his words here and he gave me his permission.

“Today I feel tired. –

Tired of being rejected.
Tired of being ignored.
Tired of being excluded.
Tired of being treated like an outcast.
Tired of being treated like a misfit.
Tired of feeling like others look down on me for being different.
Tired of being expected to try and act ‘normal’ to have a ‘normal’ life. — I am not ‘normal.’ I am Autistic.
Tired of people who think that just trying harder will make Autistic people ‘more normal.’ — Would you tell a blind person to try harder to see? Would you tell a paraplegic to try harder to walk? Would you tell a colorblind person to try harder to see the colors that they can’t see?
Tired of people who don’t understand Autism and who don’t make any effort to learn about Autism so that they can cure their own ignorance.
Tired of people who refuse to accept Autistic people just as they are.
Tired of people who presume incompetence.
Tired of neuro-bigotry.
Tired of the silence of others. Silence is *not* support.
 
Want to help us? –
Listen to Autistic people.
Make an effort to learn about Autism.
Educate yourself about what we go through each and every day.
Learn about how negative attitudes make us feel.
Practice Autism Acceptance.
Accept that we are different, not less.
Accept that we are different, but *not* defective. Don’t try to make us into a poor copy of your idea of ‘normal.’
Accept that we are okay to be ourselves — just as we are.
Accept that we are  humans with feelings just like everyone else.
Accept that Autistic rights are human rights.
Presume our competence.
Don’t avoid us, include us.
Most of us have social anxiety. Please be kind and reassuring to us.
Please reach out to us. We won’t often make the first move after suffering from a lifetime of rejection, exclusion, and being bullied.
Please practice inclusion.
 
I am Autistic and I want to be valued and accepted for simply being me. ~ Steve Summers”

Steve is my friend.  I am so glad I know him.  I value our friendship.  I enjoy our conversations.

Yesterday I wrote about acceptance, specifically acceptance of one’s Autistic child by a parent.   Parents who do not accept their “child’s autism” often feel criticized and bristle at the perceived implication that they do not “love” their child, “correctly”, “in the right way” or “enough”.   I know how completely uninterested I was in the idea of acceptance when I was engaged in an all out battle with Emma’s autism, intent on extricating her from its gnarled grasp.  (This last sentence was very much in keeping with how I thought of autism at the time.)  What I didn’t consider, what I didn’t know to consider, was Steve and every single person who is autistic who feels the way Steve does.

My inability to accept my daughter’s autism impacts her.  Just as I cannot extricate the Autistic parts of her, I cannot pluck out the “autism” from how she sees herself.  My non-acceptance, as well intended, as well-meaning as it was, was still felt by her as a criticism of her.  But I didn’t know that at the time.

I think we, human beings, forget how pervasive and destructive our ideas about others are.  If we are in the majority, our influence, the reach of our opinions are even more destructive.  We say, oh but I love her, I just hate the way she walks, talks, the sound of her voice, the color of her skin, eyes, hair.  I love her, but I hate the way her mind works, how long it takes her to get dressed, the way she eats…  No really, I DO love her.  And we do.  We feel tremendous love.  I loved my daughter all those years I was fighting her autism.  I did.  I absolutely did.  I fought her autism BECAUSE I loved her so much.  But then I met people like Steve and Julia and E. and Kassiane and Bridget and Savannah and Laura N. and Sam and Amy and Gareeth and I read what it was like to be brought up by parents who didn’t accept their “autism” and how it felt.   And I began to understand.  I was able to hear what they were saying and I began to see the connection.

Thank you Steve for allowing me to print your words here. Thank you for writing this.  Thank you for helping me parent my daughter differently, so that in ten, fifteen, twenty years from now maybe, just maybe, she will not feel quite so tired.

Emma – 2004

  Related articles

Autism, Acceptance And Love

My friend Shannon Des Roches Rosa posted a great piece regarding understanding acceptance on Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism the other day. I wanted to write a comment, but had to think about what she’d written and then wrote a long, epic length, rambling comment, so lengthy that when I went to submit it I was informed I’d “timed out” and lost the whole thing.  But it got me thinking…

Whenever I think of acceptance the “serenity prayer” comes to mind – “…grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference.”  This prayer was what I repeated to myself each and every day for years after we were given Emma’s diagnosis.  ”Courage to change the things I can” was what I clung to as I doggedly pursued treatment after unproven treatment.  One of the single biggest stumbling blocks for me in accepting my daughter’s “autism” (I write it this way, because this was how I thought of it, as something separate from her) was that I believed it was within my power to change her autism.  I thought I could remove it.   As long as I continued to hold onto that belief, I couldn’t accept her autism or the idea of her as an Autistic individual, she was Emma who was diagnosed with autism and therefore, my thinking went, could also be diagnosed withOUT autism.  These two points were key in my thinking.  Anyone who suggested I not think of my daughter and autism in this way were disregarded.

I no longer think in these terms.  But I read the often heated exchanges between parents who accept autism and their Autistic children, and those who maintain they accept their child, but do not accept autism.   Interchange the word “accept” for “love” and things start getting really volatile.  None of us welcome anyone who suggests we do not love our children.  And truthfully, this is where, I think, the disconnect happens.  I think this is less about love and more about having a different understanding of what Autism is.  If autism is seen as completely negative, (something Autism Speaks has perfected to a science by using words such as, affliction, epidemic, crisis and tragedy) this horrible thing that causes my child to writhe in agony, an “affliction” with no redeeming qualities, coupled with the belief that autism is something that can be removed, in fact has been removed by many parents who have gone on to write memoirs about their triumphant courage to change the things they can, then what parent wouldn’t welcome their child relief from that?

But if Autism is seen as something complex, woven into the very fabric of a human’s being with a wide range of attributes as well as challenges, all of this becomes far more complicated.  It was this idea, so beautifully described in eloquent detail by Julia Bascom in her blog Just Stimming that made me pause.  Her description of the challenges and joys of being Autistic were what made me stop and reconsider everything I thought I knew and believed.  As long as we hold to the view that our child is locked inside a seemingly impenetrable shell called “autism” while listening to that seductive, whispering voice assuring us that we can break through that shell if we just try x, y, and z we will struggle mightily with the idea of acceptance.

Emma – 2002

It’s My Birthday and I’ll Laugh if I Want To

Saturday was my birthday.  I’m 52.  Or as my twelve-year-old son said to his younger cousin last night, “Do you understand how old she is?”  A look of confusion lingered on his cousin’s face.  Then, apparently tiring of her lack of response, Nic said in a grave tone, “She’s fifty-two.” There was a moment of silence and then to be sure he’d left no room for error he added, “Fifty two years old.”   His cousin looked at me with raised eyebrows and what I imagined to be a new-found appreciation or maybe it was horror, it’s impossible to know what an eight year old, having been given this sort of news, might think.

I figure I’m at the halfway point, though my husband would say I’m being unrealistic as he fully intends to live… forever.  Yeah, you read that right.  As in eternity.  I’m not as optimistic.  However, I like the idea of having reached the halfway mark, forget that I felt I was at the halfway point last year and the year before and the year before that too…  But let’s just say I’m right, that would mean I’ve got another 52 years ahead of me.  And I don’t know about you, but I fully intend to make good use of them!  Because the first 35 or so I kind of made a mess of.  There’s good reason I have a 12-year-old and 10-year-old when many of my same age friends have children graduating from high school and college.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for my past, I’ve learned a great deal.  I just wouldn’t want to do any of it over again.  I really like being 52.  I like being where I now find myself.  But mostly I really like my life.  

Birthdays are a time of celebration, but more than anything they’re a milestone of how far we’ve come.  At least that’s how I like to think of them.  I’ve come far in 52 years, but this last year has been more significant than any other year to date.  It has been within the last year that I have completely changed how I see my daughter.  And that change has unexpectedly altered my view of the world and my life.  I don’t know that any other single thing has changed my thinking and views of life and the world as quickly, dramatically or completely.  There have certainly been milestones – getting help for my eating disorder, stopping my bulimia and anorexia and getting sober are two examples of significant change.  And while the actual stopping of an action happens in a single moment, real change occurs over many such moments, repeated over and over.  The larger changes that take place as a result of those repeated actions or inactions can take years to recognize.  It is, as they say, a slow recovery.

My introduction into the world Autistics inhabit and talk about, was swift, abrupt and in many ways, more life altering than anything I’ve ever experienced.   I am still reeling from the force with which this knowledge has transformed my life and the lives of my immediate family.  As a result, I have never been so happy.  I have never felt so hopeful.  I have never been so sure we are on the right path.  I have never enjoyed my family as much as I do now.  Most surprisingly, my happiness is not because Emma has become a “normal” child.  On the contrary, my happiness is, in large part, because she is not.  I view her with wonder, without judgement and an open mind.  I have learned to see her as neurologically different, not wrong or broken or in need of fixing.

I no longer speak of Emma as though she cannot hear me or understand me.  When she doesn’t answer or walks away when I’m talking to her I no longer assume she’s not interested in what I have to say.  I have learned to examine all of my assumptions.  I have learned to question everything, and I mean literally everything I think or think I know.  At my friend Ib’s urging I’ve begun reading Autism and the Myth of the Person Alone by Douglas Biklen.  This book, like so many that I’ve read in recent months, throws everything we neurotypicals think and say about autism and Autistics out the window.  Judy Endow, just posted a terrific piece entitled, Seeing Beyond My Autism Diagnosis.  She talks about the lens through which NTs view Autistics and writes:  ”Stereotypical views of autism are based on the neurotypical (NT) assignment of “truth” as they look at us.”

One of the greatest gifts I’ve received this past year is the joy that has come with  questioning my “truth” when it comes to Emma.  In questioning it I have found my sense of humor.  It never entirely left me, more like it had been tamped down by stress and worry.  To laugh, to really feel the absurdity of situations that used to cause me tremendous upset and concern, to feel the carefree pleasure of being with my family and enjoying them…  this is the life I had always hoped for, but felt would never be mine.

Yeah.  I turned fifty-two on Saturday and I’ve never been happier.

The vanilla cake with raspberry icing Em and I made.  Nic and Emma decorated it by writing everyone’s name on it.  And yes, it was delicious!

Beautiful Em wearing one of her pretty dresses

A Little Gratitude And Love

I have to begin this post with some gratitude.  Angela, whose blog - Half Past Normal - a wonderful blog I hope all of you will visit, reached out to me yesterday with a lovely comment.  As with all the comments people leave, I was left feeling so fortunate to be among such a wonderfully vibrant and diverse community.  Thank you Angela for thinking of me and reaching out to me.  It made me very, very happy.

I wrote yesterday about feeling off kilter, feeling what my father would have termed – je ne c’est quoi – I couldn’t put my finger on it, thought it was from all the travel and jet lag, maybe some overwhelm too, I didn’t know really.  But I’m closer now to what it is.  My friend Ib, whom I adore and carry with me in my heart at all moments, helped clarify it for me yesterday.  She calls it “weltschmerz” and she said, “it is located in your language of erosion of trust… disappointment… the need to help underscored with a note of (in my ears) not being sure it will work or anyone will listen… I think it is weltschmerz and I think it got in your body like it does for us and made your bones tired.”  The “us” she is referring to are all the Autistics who are advocating for change.  They are constantly working to change our thinking, our perceptions and the way Autism and Autistics are viewed and treated.

As I read Ib’s explanation I thought of @Coyotetooth who tweets poems in 140 characters or less and photos of his walks.  He is one of the many brilliant, kind souls who is quietly making a difference.  His post, Unshattered is just one example of his poetry on his blog CoyoteTooth13.  His tweets are the ones I try to find first thing in the morning. Sometimes if I’m very lucky I will come upon his and @AspieChap’s conversations, often conducted in rhyme, the best way to begin any morning, it seems to me.  Then there’s @Aspie_Warrior who is tweeting and blogging (blog – Aspiewarrior) about  what it’s like for him as Dad to AS son and NT family.  He writes, “This has led to me working as kind of translator in my household. Kind of a bridge between my NT family and my son.”

@SpectrumScribe with his wonderful blog, Postcards From the Edge of the Spectrum writes about his journey of discovery, revelation, acceptance and self-reconciliation.  He has wonderful suggestions for books and film in addition to his terrific posts.  There’s @AspieKid whose comments on Emma’s Hope Book have inspired whole posts  and who writes on his blog, AspieKid about his life and what it was like for him as a child.  There’s Laura Nagle, featured in the wonderful documentary, Vectors of Autism: Laura Nagle and gives one of the best monologues I’ve ever heard about what it is to be Autistic.

There is Amy Sequenzia and Peyton Goddard and Emma Studer, all of whom are nonverbal Autistics communicating through typing and whose words are having an impact.  One by one they are changing people’s perceptions of their children and what it means to be a nonverbal Autistic adult in the world.  There are countless others and I will try to include them in future posts, but these are all Autistic people who help me understand, who through their kindness help me forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made, who have helped me do things differently.  Maybe they already know they are making a difference or maybe this will come as a surprise, but they are and they have.  They have made a difference in my life and by extension in my daughter’s life.

If there is one thing I can do with my writing and with this blog, I hope it is to inspire other parents and organizations to read what Autistics are writing and to interact with Autistic people.  If I can have any impact on the organization – icare4autism – it is to persuade them to seek out the advice of Autistics, to hand the microphone over to them and to work closely with them in moving their organization forward.   We parents can give each other support and cheer each other on, but it is Autistics who can best advocate for themselves, who can explain to the rest of us what it’s like, who can encourage us to not concentrate on deficits, but on assets and who can show us we are not so different.  We are, after all, human, regardless of our neurology.  Perhaps it is in sharing our commonalities, rather than our differences that will encourage people, all people to come together to help one another.

I have to end this post with my friend Ib.  Ib doesn’t have a blog, but she is a powerful presenter and advocate.  She also is my friend, someone who reminds me when I feel discouraged, frustrated, tired or angry that kindness was what changed things for me.  Kindness from Autistics who reached out to me and extended their hand not so long ago.  E. from the blog The Third Glance was one of the first, and I’ll never forget how much her comment on this blog meant to me.  Ib has not only extended her hand to me, but opened her arms in embrace, no matter my mood, no matter my lack of understanding, patiently, lovingly, she has given herself in friendship and I can only hope she feels my love for her in return.

Yesterday evening