Category Archives: Blogs By Autistics

Some Thoughts on Accommodation

Posted on April 17, 2013 | 15 Comments

A year ago I did a crash landing into the world of bloggers, all of whom were Autistic.  I had been looking for them for years, but suddenly, or so it seemed to me, I found not one, not two, but dozens and dozens of blogs written by Autistic men and women in their 20′s, 30′s, 40′s and 50′s.  It was surreal because these people were writing about their lives, giving glimpses into what it is like to grow up and live in a world and society that does not “see” you, yet talks about you and perpetuates misinformation about you with little interest in verifying whether their interpretation is in fact correct.

Pretty quickly after my crash landing I found this ‘post‘ from the blog Radical Neurodivergence Speaking about attending an Autism conference where the keynote speaker said, ”When one family member has autism, the whole family has autism”.  The blogger writes, “My autism is not about my parents or my siblings or my non autistic friends and extended family. It is my neurology. It is not theirs. No matter how much they listen to me, how much they try to understand, it is not about them. It’s a lot easier to protect the martyr mentality when you insist it’s about you, but that’s just not how it is. As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken. We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right. It isn’t even wrong. It’s so backwards there is not yet an adjective for it.“

Now remember, I was at the very beginning of finding actual people who were talking about their own neurology as opposed to ‘experts’ talking about their interpretation or ideas about a neurology they did not have.  I had to reread that paragraph before I could go on.  ”As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken. We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right. It isn’t even wrong. It’s so backwards there is not yet an adjective for it.“

I had to get up and walk around because this concept, this simple, and now it was dawning on me, pretty obvious idea was not something I’d really considered before.  I had to sit down and think about this.  ”As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken.”  And then I realized something.  I didn’t like what I realized, but I couldn’t tamp it down.  It kept springing back up into the forefront of my mind.  I realized by making autism and my daughter’s neurology about me, I would continue to feel sad and victimized by “it”.  ”It” was this terrible thing that had happened to us. “It” being the operative word.  ”It” wasn’t my daughter.  ”It” was what we fought against.  And by then adding a judgment to my daughter’s neurology (it’s bad) I was limiting it even more and adding a layer of horror to it.  Without meaning to I was making things much, much worse for all of us.  Without knowing it, I was doing the opposite of accommodating “it” I was co-opting it and making it all about ME.

Now before people start saying things like – wait a second, autism DOES affect the whole family, or, but the siblings DO feel x,y and z – I need to state the obvious – of course an autism diagnosis affects the whole family, but affecting the family is different from saying, ”When one family member has autism, the whole family has autism.”  That simply is not true.  The whole family does not “have” autism.  This is not FACT.  Insisting that it is fact when it is not, does not serve any of us, but mostly it is a massive disservice to my daughter and all who are Autistic.

When my father had his horseback riding accident I was nine years old.  It completely affected my outlook on life.  At the age of nine I considered death, hospitals, doctors, what it means to be physically disabled, in a way that my same age peers were probably not contemplating.  Yet I was not suddenly “disabled” because of his accident.  None would have suggested that.  I might have been helped had I seen a therapist to work through some of my fears and later phobias that resulted from his accident, but that is very different from co-opting his experience.  When my father was in a wheel chair, the entire family did not suddenly lose the use of their legs.  My father needed accommodation, ramps needed to be built inside our house where there were stairs, he needed assistance getting into and out of the swimming pool, but the rest of us continued to walk around, ride our bikes, play with our friends and live our lives.  Did my father’s accident affect me, well of course it did, but never would anyone have suggested that because of my father’s disability the entire family was therefore disabled.

“We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right.”

Ownership.

We all need and want to be heard.  Parents want their experiences to be heard and acknowledged.  Siblings want their experiences heard and acknowledged.  But that should not be at the cost of our Autistic children.  ALL people deserve to have the accommodations they need.  Just as my father required ramps built in our house, my daughter needs support to communicate without the added pressure or guilt that she is causing the rest of us hardship.  We need to reframe the conversation.

More terrific posts from Radical Neurodivergence Speaking:

I shouldn’t have to beg

I’m on your kid’s side too

Autism and child abuse: Both for April. Oh IRONY.

More Toxic Lessons Learned

Em

→ 15 Comments

Posted in Autism, Blogs By Autistics, Parenting

Tagged , , , ,

The Influence of Others

Posted on April 10, 2013 | 7 Comments

On March 1st, 2012 my life changed.  I had no idea it was about to change.  I had no idea a single blog post would impact my life the way it did.  I didn’t know when I clicked on the link a commenter sent me on this blog, taking me to someone else’s blog, that I was in for the ride of a lifetime.

I had no idea.

On March 1st, 2012 I read Julia Bascom‘s post ~ The Obsessive Joy of Autism.  A post she’d written almost a year before, but I was only now reading.  Her post begins with this, “I am autistic. I can talk; I talked to myself for a long time before I would talk to anyone else. My sensory system is a painful mess, my grasp on language isn’t always the best, and it takes me quite some time to process social situations. I cannot yet live on my own or manage college or relationships successfully.”

I had no idea.

I have read that post half a dozen times since I discovered it.  And then I read her post just preceding entitled Grabbers.  ”The grabbers don’t believe that we can be happy or find meaning unless we are exactly like them…”

Read that again – “The grabbers don’t believe that we can be happy or find meaning unless we are exactly like them…”

As a parent I want nothing more than for both my children to find their way toward meaningful lives, lived with purpose.  That they will then also find happiness I thought was a given.  Or so I always believed.  Does that mean they must be like me?  Do I believe that their ability to feel happiness is reduced, lessened, not relevant, inadequate, inferior, if it looks different from my idea of what constitutes meaning and happiness?  Can I let go of my preconceived ideas pertaining to happiness and what that means for anyone but myself?  Do I even know what happiness is for me, let alone another?

I had no idea.

These were the questions that began to gnaw at me as I read Julia’s blog, Just Stimming.  I urge anyone who is not familiar with her blog to read it.  Just Stimming is beautifully written as well as powerful, poignant, evocative and for me anyway, gut wrenching.

Again, from her post Grabbers –  (**Words highlighted in bold are mine, as in Julia’s post those words are italicized.)

“The hands are everywhere.

They’re at our chins. “Look at me,” with a face pressed in so close to yours that you count the pores until they force your gazes to meet.“

“…protesting just means you need to be grabbed more often, with harder and more insistent hands, until you realize that the way you move is fundamentally wrong, as wrong and deficient and disturbing and dangerous as you are, and if you want to be counted as a “you” at all you must let them grab you until you can stop your self.”

I had no idea and now I realize that claim begins to ring false, even to my ears.  How was it possible to not have considered this?  But no.

I had no idea.

“…Until you realize that the way you move is fundamentally wrong…”

The post ends with, “In the end it just comes down to you are wrong, and for that you must be punished. It simplifies to your body is not your own, but it is mine.“

I am about four years old, we are living in the first house I ever lived in.  Our baby sitter, Mrs. Williams stands guard outside the bathroom where I have been told I will stay until I have had a “bowel movement.”  I am sure she will not let me leave, but I cannot go to the bathroom on command.  I feel anxiety course through my body, it is as though my entire being is encased in a net, I can breathe, but I am trapped.  I sit staring straight ahead, wondering how long before she begins to yell at me.  I am terrified of Mrs. Williams.  She smells of antiseptic soap and wears a nurses uniform that crackles when she moves and those awful white shoes you see in hospitals that sound like she’s stepped in chewing gum when she walks.  Her skin is pasty white and hangs from her body as though it were half a size too big.   But mostly it is her eyes, partially hidden by glasses lens that  do not conceal her anger and resentment.  Those eyes hurt to look at because I see so much that isn’t said.

Finally I stand, tip toe to the sink, grab my drinking cup and fill it with toilet water then pour the water back into the toilet and flush.  I place the cup carefully back on the edge of the sink and wait for Mrs. Williams to open the door, allowing me to escape.

“Your body is not your own, but it is mine...”

Julia’s blog was the beginning.  It showed me a different path and urged me to follow it.  I did.  Along the way I have found countless other blogs and have even been fortunate enough to meet many of the authors of those blogs.  Because of Julia’s blog I met my mentor and friend Ibby.  Because of Julia’s blog I read E.’s blog The Third Glance, which I intend to write about in the near future.  Because of Julia I have become a  (I hope) better parent.  Because of Julia I see the world differently.  Julia’s writing opened my eyes.  I wonder if any of us can ever really know how deeply our words can impact another.  I don’t know that anything I write here can convey what this woman has done for me or how enormously she has influenced me and because of her influence the difference she has made to my thinking and life and by extension, my daughter’s life.

Julia lit the way.

Julia created The Loud Hands Project.

Julia, with ASAN (Autistic Self Advocacy Network) put together the must read anthology, Loud Hands:  Autistic People Speaking.  

Julia is also the editor of the just released And Straight on Till Morning Essays on Autism Acceptance.  I just downloaded this book from Amazon for $2.99 and encourage everyone to do the same!

Julia’s writing gave me insight.  She confronted me with her truth.  She makes me think and rethink what I believe, what I think I know and she has made me question everything.  This post doesn’t do her justice.  How could it?

To Julia ~ Thank you  ❤

→ 7 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autistic Role Models, Blogs By Autistics

Tagged , , , , , ,

“Autistic People Should…”

Posted on February 23, 2013 | 9 Comments

Today is “Autistic People Should…” flash blog day!  Please take the time to read these terrific posts by Autistic people who are blogging in to change the current views by non-autistic people of what Autistic people should or should not do or be.  Autistic people are taking these three words today and making them their own.

The Autistic People Should… Flash Blog

To give all of you an idea of what comes up if one types “Autistic people should” into a google search box at the moment ~

Yeah.

This has to change.  WE can change this, all of us, together, by spreading the word, sharing the flash blog link, tweeting the posts.  Let’s help change the way we think about autism and Autistic people.  We ALL benefit when we work toward ending oppression and respecting every person’s right to exist.

→ 9 Comments

Posted in Autism, Blogs By Autistics, neurodiversity

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Bloggers, Writers, Autism and a Huge Amount of Hope

Posted on November 13, 2012 | 40 Comments

When Emma was diagnosed with PDD-NOS (pervasive developmental disorder – not otherwise specified) in 2004, I was lulled into believing it was a temporary condition, nothing that a few years of therapy wouldn’t resolve.  I saw it as a kind of throw away diagnosis, not exactly full-blown autism, more like a mild version of something that resembled Autism, but wasn’t.  Kind of like a bad cold, not exactly a bacterial infection requiring antibiotics, but troublesome never-the-less and we’d have to ride it out.  Besides, I reasoned, just because many of Em’s behavior looked autistic-like, seemed autistic-ish, she probably wasn’t autistic because, well, no one really understood what autism was and so how could she be labeled something that no one understood or really knew what it even meant?  Or so my thinking went.  During this initial period I kept my eye out for any Autistic adults I could find, just in case, you know, she really was autistic, I wanted to know what we might expect.  I found none and concluded that since I couldn’t find any, there must not actually BE any to find.

Still, just on the off-chance I was somehow wrong, I kept looking.  Every now and again I’d find someone, read everything they wrote or said and conclude that my daughter wasn’t really like them or wasn’t like them enough to give me much hope that they were good examples of what she might be like later in life.   (In retrospect, since Em wants to be a singer, I should have been looking for performers who are autistic, but even so, would, most likely, have come to the same conclusion.) By the way, I have never met a neurotypical adult who seemed like an adult version of my neurotypical son, but this thought didn’t occur to me for a great many years.  Despite all of this, my search continued.

In 2005 Em’s PDD-NOS diagnosis officially became “autism”.  As time went on and my thinking continued to change, Emma remained Emma with all her “Autistic-like behaviors” very much in place and I continued to grapple with what this meant.  I wasn’t one of those parents who understood that regardless of her neurology, she was who she was and it was all good.  I bought into the autism is like cancer idea, and therapy was chemo.  (This idea was very popular back in 2004, though I hope it has waned.)  It took me awhile to question this thinking and it took me even longer to see how these beliefs made any “therapeutic” program somewhat reasonable, because, after all, nobody signs up to have chemo and talks about what an enjoyable experience it is.  The idea that Autism is NOT cancer, that this thinking in and of itself leads us down a very dark and dangerous path was something I didn’t come to until much later.

Now fast forward to this morning.  This morning I read a terrific post, The Princess, Her Socks and Her Late Pass on a wonderful blog I’ve begun reading regularly by Aspie Writer called, Twirling Naked in the Street and No-one Noticed, (love that title) which she describes as “A blogged book: Growing up with undiagnosed autism”.  Reading her post about how she hated wearing socks, (so does Emma) how the fabric bunched and the seam on her toes hurt and how the socks had tiny rocks in them that no one else could see or find, kept reminding me of Em.  Aspie Writer recounts how she was always late to class and keeps saying over and over, “I have to see Mr. Hiler for my late pass.”  It is a wonderfully written description about a baffling behavior.  She does such a terrific job describing her actions and words that they made total sense to me.  Not only was I able to identify with her thinking, it gave me a little glimpse into some of Em’s seemingly baffling actions or repeated sentences.

And I was reminded (again) of why reading blogs by Autistic people is of such vital importance to me.  It’s not because I think to myself, oh Emma is going to become this person when she’s an adult.  I don’t assume that because Aspie Writer is married, a mom of 3 and a wonderful writer this will be Emma’s future.  I haven’t met a single adult, autistic or otherwise who seems to be just like either of my children.  How could I?  There wasn’t an adult version of me when I was a child and I’m certainly not an adult version of anyone else’s child.  It’s kind of a ridiculous idea when you stop to think about it.  And yet, that’s what I wanted for all those years when I was searching.  I wanted to find someone who seemed just like Emma was.  I wanted this desperately because I was so fearful of her future.  Yet, all those autistic adults who are not exactly like my daughter  are the very reason I am no longer fearful and why I have so much hope.

Blogs, both the writing of this one and finding those written by Autistics have changed my life.  Blogs are a slice of life, immediate and interactive.  I can read a post and “like” it, comment on it, even though I may or may not get a response from the writer.  I can then tweet the post out, share it on Facebook and engage in a dialogue with the writer if they care to respond.  The immediacy of blogs is compelling, engaging and makes the reader feel more apart of than when reading a book.  Books are wonderful too, but they’re different.  They do not have the interactive element to them that makes blogging so wonderful.  Blogging is very much about “us”.  We, whether as a reader or writer, have the opportunity to become part of the process, a part of “them”.  Another aspect of blogging is – anyone can blog.  You don’t need an agent, you don’t need to even write “well” (though there are many wonderful writers who also blog), you just need to want to write.  So you have a great many people who may never have bothered to look for an agent or publisher, who are writing and because it’s a casual writing form, you also find some amazingly beautiful blogs written with honesty, unedited, raw and complex.

To all the Autistic people who are sharing your stories, your words, your lives, whether by commenting or by having a blog of your own or both, here’s a very loud and heartfelt thank you!  You are making a difference.  You have changed my life.  How does “thank you” even cover the enormity of that?  It doesn’t.

Emma – 2003

Related articles

→ 40 Comments

Posted in Autism, Blogs By Autistics, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , ,

An Ode To Ibby And Her Tiny Grace Notes

Posted on September 27, 2012 | 9 Comments

My friend Ibby has started her own shiny, new, fabulous blog, called Tiny Grace Notes (AKA Ask An Autistic)!  *Doing little snoopy dance*

This is how Ibby describes her blog:  ”The purpose of this blog is specifically so people can ask me things that may not come up on other blogs, which I completely recommend reading.  But let’s say you have a burning desire for the answer to a question that nobody blogs about that week?  Come here and ask it in the comments.  You can do that right now.  I might answer myself, and I might also remember that my friend told me about it a couple months ago, so I could answer from multiple viewpoints in conversation.  Also, I may be able to give you a study about it that isn’t insulting and eugenic and horrible.”

This is how Ibby describes herself:  ”I’m an Autistic member of the Community and an education professor…”

Ib is an educator.  She teaches educators.  Not only that, but Ibby is patient, incredibly kind, nonjudgmental and one of the funniest people I’ve ever met.  Seriously.  (I love saying that after saying someone’s funny…)  I know Ibby’s blog will soon have more questions than she’ll have time to give, so I’ve already elbowed my way in there and asked her a question in the comments section!  If you want to ask her something go over there NOW and get in line, because I have a feeling that line is going to get pretty long, pretty quickly!

Just to backtrack a little…  Most of you have heard me talk about Ibby.  We met at a Disability Conference here in New York City where she was presenting last spring.  I wrote about meeting her ‘here‘.  It was one of those magical moments when you meet someone and you just know instantly, you just know there’s an immediate bond, an indescribable feeling of closeness that defies explanation.  That’s what it was like for me when I met Ib.  She flapped, I allowed myself to do a tiny little, tentative bounce on my toes, nothing that would call attention, (I was new to the sensation, had not allowed myself to engage in such behavior since I was a kid, but it felt GREAT!) and we hugged.

After that first meeting we kept in touch.  In fact, we began “talking” aka IMing each other once or twice a week and then we began talking several times a week.  We talked about autism, I asked her if I could ask for advice about Emma and she graciously not only agreed, but patiently explained and re-explained things I found difficult to understand.  Over time we began talking about ourselves more.  I began to talk candidly with Ibby about my guilt over the things  I’d done, the various therapies, the remedies and Ib told me more about her life.  This was a post I wrote after one of our epic conversations.  (I hadn’t asked Ib if it was okay to use her name at that point, so I didn’t.)  We found we had similar senses of humor, we went off on whole riffs together, and I laughed.  I laughed with Ib as I hadn’t laughed in a very long time.  As our friendship grew, so did my hope.  Now, if too many days go by and I haven’t been in touch with Ib I feel a little off, a little melancholy.

All of this is to say, Ibby is rare.  She’s brilliant and really, really smart, which aren’t the same thing.  You can be brilliant, but not very wise.  Ib is both.  So go over to her blog and ask her some questions, because honestly, I can’t think of a better person to go to.

Totally unrelated photo taken by Richard of Em at MOMA

Related articles

→ 9 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autistic Role Models, Blogs By Autistics

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Want to Know About Autism? Ask An Autistic

Posted on August 27, 2012 | 42 Comments

There’s a blog I love, written by E. called The Third Glance.   I found it last winter.  Written by a PHD student, E. describes her life, her passions, her studies, while detailing her thought process while socializing with friends during an afternoon at a café or memories of growing up with abusive parents who didn’t understand her.  E.’s compassion for humans and their neurological differences is striking as one considers the stigma she experienced growing up Autistic.  The Third Glance was one of the first blogs I found in my search for Autistic Adults.  E’s compassion and kindness shines through all her posts no matter the subject.  Her determination to give people the benefit of the doubt was something I was astonished by, particularly during those first few months of my discovering Autistic blogs and reading that so much of what I’d done was not as altruistic as I’d believed.

When Em was diagnosed, the words “Autistic Adults” were not uttered.  Ever.  We heard about how imperative it was to immediately implement early intervention, we were shuttled off to get an “independent diagnosis,” we were advised to start investigating ABA therapy, we were inundated with ABA therapists, speech therapists, occupational therapists, a social worker came to our home once a week, team meetings were held regularly, we were trained to continue Emma’s ABA therapy after the last therapist had gone home.  We were advised to put Em on a gluten free/casein free diet, we were encouraged to read the thousands and thousands of pages of material thrust at us from a wide variety of well meaning and well intended people.

In that first year of Em’s diagnosis, I was well versed in various theories regarding gut issues, lead levels, mercury levels, toxicity in our food and water, and I could reel off at least six different unpronounceable ingredients in vaccines.  I’d read at least 30 memoirs written by parents of Autistic children as well as books with titles such as A Parent’s Guide to Autism: Answers to the Most Common Questions, The World of the Autistic Child: Understanding and Treating Autistic Spectrum Disorders, Handbook of autism and Pervasive Developmental Disorders and  Biological Treatments for Autism and PDD.  I’d taken Em to cranial sacral therapists, homeopaths, lead specialists, developmental pediatricians, nutritionists, allergists and a DAN (Defeat Autism Now) doctor.  I knew about ABA, VB, RDI, PECS and DIR therapies.  I read and reread Catherine Maurice’s Let Me Hear Your Voice with the same dogged, determination and devotion evangelicals read the bible.  I knew about sorghum flour, rice flour, garbanzo bean and fava bean flour.  I honed my cooking skills on perfecting a gluten-free/casein free birthday cake for Em’s third birthday with platters of tasty GFCF finger foods, which Emma refused to touch, let alone sample.

Autism, seemingly overnight, had become my focus.  I was set on fighting it.  I was engaged in nothing less than a war.  My weapons were my determination, my tenacity, my stubbornness and my love and devotion for my daughter.  Everything else came to a screeching halt.  Everything else fell into line behind my research.  I was on a quest.  To my way of thinking, I was on a mission to save my daughter’s life.  When my husband, understandably alarmed by the fervency with which I threw myself into my research, suggested I was spending too much time searching, I was furious.  I railed at him, enumerating all the things I was doing with the sole intent of saving our daughter.   I was furious that he seemed unable to fully understand the battle I was waging.  It never occurred to me there was another way.  It never dawned on me I was battling windmills.  That Autism was the enemy, something to be vanquished, defeated and destroyed, I did not question.  I didn’t have time to question, I was too busy dealing with the Board of Education, therapists, Doctor’s appointments, tracking down every “cure,” and baking foods my daughter wanted nothing to do with.  Every time I turned around someone was sending me a link to a new “cure” a new treatment, a new therapy, a new “miracle worker.”  Countless people would begin a conversation or email with, “Have you tried…”  ”Have you heard of…” and I would grab a pen and begin taking notes.  Doggedly I pursued each and every tip.  Determined not to leave a single stone left under turned, my days and nights were filled.  I was busy.  There was no time for calm contemplation, there was no time to sit and consider the path I suddenly found myself.

The Seven Year War.

And then…  what happened?  What changed?  Everything.  I began to question the “truth” about autism.  I began to question the dogma.  I began to question the “facts.”  It was inevitable, I suppose when you read as much as I do.  But the single biggest change occurred because I found Autistic Adults like E.  I’ve written about this before, ‘here‘ (the post where E. first reached out to me in the comments section) and again ‘here.’  I won’t go on about that process, except to say this – there is something about the immediacy and the interactive quality of a blog that no book can replicate.  In addition, a blog written by someone who is Autistic is far more interesting to me than anything I’ve heard from researchers, specialists, therapists, teachers, doctors because Autistics are talking about their lives, it’s not a theory, there’s no speculation.

Want to know about Autism?  Ask Autistics.

Thank you E. for reaching out to me.  Thank you for generously holding out your hand to me in kindness and friendship.  Should all parents be so fortunate as I have been.

A quick aside, E. was also one of the creators of the Autism Positivity Flash Blog (see badge on right side of this blog) where a group of bloggers reached out to hundreds of us asking that we write a post in answer to the google search words “I wish I didn’t have Aspergers.”  If you haven’t gone to that blog, do.  It’s a veritable who’s who in Autism blogging by Autistics and parents coming together to support someone on the spectrum.

Related articles

Emma Riding Beau – 2005

→ 42 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autism Positivity, Blogs By Autistics

Tagged , , , , , ,