Tag Archives: non-speaking

The Audio Book for “I Might Be You” is Here!!

Barb Rentenbach’s fantastic, funny, poignant and beautiful, must read book, I might be you. An Exploration of Autism and Connection is now available as an audio book!  Full disclosure:  Barb, who is non-speaking or “mute” as she describes herself, and Autistic, asked me to be her voice for the audio book, an honor I cannot begin to fully express.   I do not receive any proceeds from the sale of the audio book.  The payment I receive is the joy I feel knowing that Barb was pleased with the end result.  It is a joy that is literally priceless… That all of you, who purchase the audio book, may benefit from Barb’s hard work is the metaphoric icing on an already sumptuous and exquisitely rich cake.

Barb is non-speaking and writes with a sharp-witted, R-rated, take no prisoners eloquence.  She is brutally honest in her description of her life as someone who is often mistaken as someone she is not.  For anyone who has ever felt they are on the fringes of society, felt they didn’t “fit in”, judged, seen as an “outsider”, as “other”, as less than, this book will resonate.  For anyone who has ever felt insecure, shunned, rejected, judged, criticized or misunderstood, this book is for you.  I Might Be You is about how we are more alike than not.

In preparation for this post, (and a version of this that I will be submitting to the Huffington Post) I asked both Barb and Lois Prislovsky, Barb’s therapist and co-author of I Might Be You to give me their thoughts on the making of the book and subsequent audiobook.  Lois wrote: “Barb typed, “being heard may be as close to helping to cure all that ails ya as one prescription gets.”  I agree.  As a psychologist, I get a daily front row seat to this truth.  What I find most remarkable about Barb is not her spectacular growing wisdom, wit, or even her gifted powers of perception.   It’s her patience that I think is unparalleled.   This book literally took her over 10 years to write one disappointment, milestone, and letter at a time.  My chapters were faster because as Barb says, I am, “less interesting”.  No one book or person has taught me more.  Barb is my favorite author and teacher.”

It took Barb ten years to write I Might Be You because she knew there would be those who would doubt the words in the book were her own and some who would even accuse her of not typing this book herself as she first learned to type with a facilitator.  Determined, she spent ten years learning to type independently, each word spelled out, one index finger jabbing at a letter at a time as she pushed beyond her physical and neurological challenges that made typing completely on her own so very difficult.  Ten years.

I asked Barb to weigh in on what it was like for her to hear her words being spoken out loud by someone who not only was not autistic, but who needed a great deal of direction during the recording!  By the way, Barb was a terrific director: kind, patient, encouraging, yet exacting and uncompromising in her insistence that her words be given the voice she needed them to be.  I wrote about my experience of recording her words ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘ on this blog.  But this post today… this post has to be Barb’s words, Barb’s experience written in Barb’s voice and not mine.  This is what Barb wrote to me:

“health: the state of being free from illness or injury.

“in preparation for this piece, az asked me to “let me not speak for you but rather hand the huffpo mic over to you”.

“i think she just cured my autism.  and what a great slogan ‘mics to mutes’ makes.

“before some poor clerk from the dmv (department of miracle validation) at the vatican calls my number, please know I am still an autistic mute so it will just go to voice mail.  but, i have finally been freed from 4 decades of ills.  it turns out being heard may be as close curing all that ails ya as one prescription gets.

“for 40 years, autism has been seen by all to hold me back.  today, autism propelled me forward as my whole self towards my life’s goal of being a successful writer.

“am i dreaming? yes. and this dream i hand pecked.

“az asked specifically what is my experience of hearing my words being read by another.

“well, it is healing.  for several years now, people have read the words i typed and that has allowed me to accomplish a more independent and quality life.   but those words were read.  meaning people ran them through their personality filters and voice boxes and simply got my gist.  the gift az is referring to is completely different.

“my lourdes miracle cure happened at the hangar studios in nyc.  there, my great difficulties in communicating and forming relationships were lifted – permanently.  this spectacular healing happened when a beautifully open woman with a strong, feminine, and southern twang free voice gifted me what i lacked with no cords attached.   my not so virgin az appeared and did not read my gist.  she got out and selflessly let me drive her luxury voice for a full week to transport my 10 years of pecked letters to let my 40 years of not talking be heard.

“i still don’t look normal.  i appear quite messed up and a prime candidate for nothing but pity and patronization with a sprinkling of repulsion and fear. i am disguised as a poor thinker with a filthy squeegee whom most veer to avoid.  so why did az give me the key? because I asked.

“like me, like you, like “THEM”, poetry is best heard.  two of my favorite lines from derrick brown’s poetry are, “dumb as a bomb on a boomerang” and  “kiss like u couldn’t beat cancer”.   being heard is key.

“we are all each other’s cure.  god cares about us all through us all.

“please say this out loud as i am borrowing your voice to be heard again (only a lunatic would give up voice jacking at this point.  plus think of the icky karma involved if one denies an autistic mute such a simple request.) : “i will not be as dumb as a bomb on a boomerang.  i will be here and hear like i couldn’t beat cancer so today i free myself and others from illness and injury.”

hear and ask to be heard.

“thanks for listening.  healthy b”

Barb and Lois at Hangar Studios in New York City ~ April, 2013

Barb & Lois

 

The Wisdom of Peyton Goddard

Peyton Goddard, wrote a memoir with her mother Dianne Goddard and Carol Cujec entitled, i am intelligent.  It is an unforgettable book.  Recently, Peyton gave a presentation in San Diego, where she typed, “After decades of torture, still each dawn I struggle to feel my worth.”  You can read her entire presentation ‘here‘.

“After decades of torture, still each dawn I struggle to feel my worth.”

Peyton was not tortured by her autism.  Peyton was tortured by non autistic people who cruelly and viciously hurt her over and over.  People who used the fact that she could not use her voice to speak to protect themselves.  I would like to believe we are moving away from a world and society where abusing people we have deemed “inferior” is done.  I would like to believe that, but I cannot.  The abuse of Autistic people at the hands of those who care for them, whose job it is to help them, continues.  The abuse of Autistic people by society, continues.  The abuse of Autistic people by those who are either ignorant or misinformed continues.  The abuse of Autistic people by those who pretend it isn’t abuse because they choose to believe Autistic people are incapable of feeling or really understanding what’s happening to them and therefore it’s okay, continues.

“Estimate I that anger in this pesty world is because pierced persons think hurting others will strip their own hurts away.” ~ Peyton Goddard

In her book Peyton writes about forgiveness.  Forgiveness of those who have hurt her the most.  Peyton Goddard is leading the way, with wisdom, kindness, forgiveness and compassion.

Peyton Goddard – a non-speaking Autistic woman, assumed incapable, presumed incompetent – has a great deal to teach us.

Three Non-Speaking “Teachers”:  Larry Bissonnette, Peyton Goddard & Tracy Thresher

TASH 6

The Audio Book is Finished!

Barb’s audio book is finished!  Ol’ Barb had me quoting Shakespeare, Stephen Hawking, Ralph Waldo Emerson and many others, as well as her own words…  It was an incredible process, with me wearing headphones, seated in front of a microphone in the sound room (or as I called it – the cave), while Barb and Lois (with Chad, the wonderfully upbeat and accommodating sound/tech guy sat in an adjoining room with a huge picture window so we could see each other) gave me direction, sometimes with hand signals, but more often with Barb typing her instructions, which Lois then read.  Chad alerted me to any technical issues that arose such as when a word sounded scratchy or slightly garbled or if I forgot a word or said a word incorrectly.  All in all it took more than 20 hours, probably more than 30 all told to record.

I am told the audio version of I might be you will be available for purchase and your listening pleasure by next week, but I will leave a link here when I have one.

In other news… I am doing a webinar on Parenting Toward Acceptance, Monday April 1st at 4:00 PM  for DIR Floortime, ICDL with Brenda Rothman, Mother and Blogger – Mama Be Good and Melody Latimer, Mother, Blogger – AS Parenting, Autistic Self-Advocate and Director of Community Engagement, Autistic Self Advocacy Network, ASAN.  I will leave a link Monday morning when I have one.  Until then have a lovely weekend everyone!

Directed by Barb

Barb is a wonderful director.  Here’s an example of yesterday’s adventures and challenges for this verbal, literal-minded, non Autistic as I did my best to embody Barb in all her mischievous, non verbal, antics as described on page 56 of her book, I might be you.  This passage took me more than thirty minutes to get right:  ”Freedom.  But the mission is far from complete.  No middle-class chain-link fence to hop and then pay dirt.  No, Sir, our musty mansion sits on acres of green, rocky earth dramatically sloping to the Tennessee River.  I take ever caution to avoid a tumbling fate.  Even the most mischievous princesses don’t swim in dirty water – Southern daddy saviors or not. I assume my most stable forty-five-degree stance and horizontally hike to the neighbors’ inviting castle, remove restricting PJs, and let the fun begin.

 ”I think, Wow!  The water is so cold it may make my heart stop.  This sure beats picking or rocking stimulation.  I consider holding off on my 3:00 a.m. phone call-evoking mimicry because I fancy enjoying a longer prerescue soak.  Alas, my scrawny self control fails me again and I sound off with a loud medley of “”you are not going,” “You can’t get in the mail truck,” It’s a fire,” and other such bizarre phrases the sleeping wealthy find disturbing when emanating from their private estate.”

This isn’t a silly story about some southern belle with far too much time on her hands who is up to no good because she’s bored and wants to piss Mom and Dad off.  No, this is a description of Barb’s elopement in the middle of the night to skinny dip in a neighbor’s pool.  It’s funny, but it’s also not funny.  It’s poignant and powerful and yet it says as much about us “normals” as Barb describes those who are not Autistic, as it does about Barb.  Straddling that precarious razor-sharp edge of self-deprecating humor while not holding back any punches is what Barb does best, but say these lines out loud without the right balance of self-reflection, honesty, desperation and rage as well as humor and all those beautiful words Barb painstakingly wrote are lost.

So after each sentence I would glance up waiting for Lois to give me the thumbs up signal before moving on.  On that particular passage there were no thumbs up.  Instead I could see Barb’s bent head as she madly typed things like, “AZ you’re doing great.  But you have to give this more power.”  or “okay AZ you’re taking it too literally, you need to loosen up.” or “Again.   Not so monotone.” And so I would do it again.  And again.  And again.   And again.   At one point I had the thought – I’m not going to be able to get this.  But then I looked over at Barb rapid fire pointing at the letter board and I thought, Damn it.  I will get this.  I have to.  For Barb.  I have to get this right for Barb.  And then I’d take a deep breath and try again.  Because she has trusted me with her words.  She has given me the greatest privilege a person could give another, she has asked me to be her voice.  And that.  That is the single biggest compliment I have ever received from another human being.  And I’ll be damned if I don’t do her words justice.

As a quick aside, y’all (that’s for you, Barb) will be pleased to know I whipped through Chapter 7, which is entitled:  Autistic Sex:  For a Terrible Time, Call.  Because when the words are raunchy that whole upper crust, uptight, WASPY thing works beautifully and it’s funny just because the two are a perfect blend  of lewd and classy, which is… funny.

Em shows Lois how to jump on a pogo-stick

*Em on the pogo-stick

The Barb Show…

I’ve written before ‘here‘ and ‘here‘ about how I don’t always get jokes.  It’s not that I don’t have a sense of humor, it’s just that a great many jokes are hard for me to understand why other people find them funny.  Jokes or anything that starts with the words “Two” (of anything) “walk into a bar…”, or The Onion, (I can’t tell you how many times Richard will thrust some headline from the Onion at me, only for me to say, “wait, what?  I don’t get it.  Why is that funny?”) fall flat.  At this point, Richard now tells me jokes or shows me things that he knows I won’t laugh at because he finds my response as funny if not funnier than the actual thing.  Apparently humor is all the more so when someone is completely clueless. I’m good at that – playing it straight.  

For those who follow this blog, you know by now that I am in the recording studio all week recording Barb Rentenbach’s terrific book, I might be you.  Barb has a wonderfully nuanced and, at times, sarcastic wit.  I can do sarcasm, and wit for that matter, except, as it turns out, when I’m reading aloud someone else’s words.  In addition to this challenge of mine, when I’m nervous, my blue-blooded-upper-crust-WASPy heritage becomes even more pronounced.  So when I’m reading some of Barb’s naughtier bits, not only do my cheeks turn quite pink, I also pretty much stomp all over the delivery of a number of her otherwise humorous sentences.  Because if you read a sentence that is funny as though it weren’t and said it straight, carefully articulating each word as though doing an exercise in drama class, the humor is completely and utterly lost.  The only analogy I can think of that captures this is, imagine reciting the Commodore’s 1977 hit song, Brick House.  ”She’s a brick —– ‘ouse, mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out…” but instead of saying the words as they were meant to be read, carefully articulate each word as though reciting a psalm in church.  I think that gives you an idea of what happened a couple of times in the recording studio.

Fortunately I do have a sense of humor and can laugh at my fumbling.  Barb and Lois were kind and patient.  Even when I had to repeat the sentence until I got the inflection right, they did not fall on the floor in hysterical laughter or poke fun.  I’m grateful to them.  Really.  Because truthfully, that had to have been pretty funny to witness.  The good news is, I was able to get it right… eventually, which is important because this book, this incredible book by Barb and Lois deserves to be heard as it was written, with elegance, eloquence, poignant power, laced with self-deprecating humor.  Every few moments I’d look up to see Barb beaming at me and Lois giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up and I would continue reading feeling exuberant and grateful to be involved in such an incredible project.

Barb showing Em encouragement later that afternoon.

Barb Rentenbach

“I Might Be You” – The Audio Version – Voice by Ariane Zurcher :)

Next week I will be in a recording studio taping the audio version of the wonderful book, I might be you by Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky.  *Doing a happy dance.  Barb asked me to be her voice a few months ago and without hesitation I agreed!  EEEEE!  Not only will I spend time with both Barb and Lois, but Barb will direct me to make sure I don’t mangle her beautiful words or trample on her often bawdy sense of humor.  It’s all in the delivery; I will do my best to make her proud.  Did I mention, Barb is funny?  She has a wonderful, edgy, R-rated sense of humor.  She avoids nothing and no topic is off-limits.  And while I’m not exactly a prude, I may get a little rosy-cheeked as I attempt to do her words justice, especially that chapter discussing masturbation, sex, or the lack of, and those hunky personal trainers who motivate her…  Taking a deep breath.  For those of you unfamiliar with the book, I wrote about it ‘here‘.  For those of you interested in purchasing a hard cover copy, and why wouldn’t you be (?) you can do so ‘here‘.  (I gain nothing from your purchase, other than the pleasure in knowing you will enjoy reading her book.)

I first met Barb and Lois at the AutCom Conference in the fall of 2012.  Their presentation was crowded, but I managed to secure myself a seat at one of the round tables.  I remember watching Barb type on a key board and being wonderfully surprised by both her self-deprecating sense of humor and how quickly she was able to type.  I admit, I couldn’t keep up as the letters whipped by while Lois read what she was typing.  Barb told of how it took her ten years to write the book because there were so many who simply did not believe she was actually writing the things that were being typed.  The assumption was that Lois or whoever was facilitating her was doing the writing.  But Barb being Barb, did not allow their doubts to stop her.  Now Barb is typing independently, her book has been published and the audio version is about to be recorded!  Woot!  Woot!

Do I need to say how excited I am?

Have I mentioned how honored I am to be Barb’s voice?

Stay tuned next week for ~ Adventures in the Recording Studio with Barb!

Less Than A Year Ago…

If I don’t immediately take notes during and after my typing sessions with Emma, I would wonder whether the words she typed were a figment of my imagination. There is something almost magical seeing and reading the words typed from someone who does not, or does not easily, communicate with spoken language.  It reminds me of the time I went to a lecture given by Soma Mukhopadhyay with her autistic son, Tito who began answering questions from the audience.  Tito is non-speaking and has a great many stims, yet translates his beautifully eloquent, poetic  thoughts into words and has no problem answering any question posed.  It’s often a disconnect for the neurotypical person watching someone who isn’t able to verbally say what they are thinking, yet has no trouble writing their thoughts, which in no way match the presumptions we, NTs tend to make.  If you’ve never witnessed something like this, it can be pretty mind-blowing, which says more about the limitations of neurotypical thinking and the constraints we unintentionally place on others who seem different from us than anything else.

Last night I began Emma’s session with a question.  It’s the same question I always ask her.  ”Hey Em, how about after you sing this song we do a typing session together?”  And Emma answered, as she does every time I ask her this question, “Yeah!  Typing session with Mommy!”  Emma’s excitement, in and of itself, makes me incredibly happy.  That she’s interested and (I think) looks forward to our sessions as much as I do, makes me believe we are on the right track.  When we went into the room, now dubbed, “Emma’s office” I tried to think of a question it seemed likely Emma would know the answer to, but that if she typed it out, I would be surprised.  As we are leaving soon to visit her Granma for the holidays, I said, “When we fly to Granma’s we have to first take a taxi to an airport.  What’s the name of the airport we usually go to?”  Without hesitation, Emma typed, “La guardia”.  Wow!  Just wow!  I then asked, “There’s another airport near La Guardia, we don’t usually fly out of, but what’s the name of it?”  Emma, again, without hesitation, typed, “kennedy”.  Whoa!   Then I threw her, what I thought would be, a curve ball and asked, “When we fly out of La Guardia we always take the same airline to visit Granma.  What’s the name of the airline we always take?”  Emma wrote “United”.   EEEEEE!!!!!  Snoopy dance.  Give me a moment while I hyperventilate.  Whooooo, whooooo.

Emma went on to tell me what state and city we live in, the name of the state we were flying to and when I asked, “What’s another name for the city we live in?  It starts with an M?”  Em immediately typed “Manhattan” though she forgot the h and one of the ts.  I followed up with, “And what’s the neighborhood we live in?”  Emma, again without hesitation, typed, “Chelsea.”  Taking another deep breath.  For those of you who are doubting what I’m writing, I understand.  Really.  I do.  As I wrote above, I actually had to take notes during our session, because I knew I would come away as if in a dream.  (Ibby suggested I record our sessions together and I keep forgetting to do that, but I have to remember to from now on.)  That’s what it feels like, a dream.  I absolutely believe in my daughter’s competence.  I believe she is far more competent than most people who come into contact with her do.  I do not for a second doubt that she has a busy, complicated and fascinating mind, filled with thoughts, ideas and knowledge I can only guess at.  But to know this, to believe this, is different from being shown this.  I don’t mean to offend any of you reading this who are non-speaking and communicate by typing.  I don’t mean to offend, really I don’t.  I hope that were Emma to ever read this she will understand what I’m trying to say.  This is not about Emma’s limitations, either intellectual or otherwise, this is about my own.

For all you neurotypicals who can speak, humor me for a moment.  Think about how you would feel if you could not speak.  Think about all the things you know, but couldn’t say.  Now imagine if you were told something simple, like the city and state where you lived over and over, repeatedly, day after day.  Just think about this for a second.  Close your eyes and try to imagine what it would be like to not be able to speak.  Imagine that well-meaning people tried to help you speak through repetition and you were not allowed to move on until you were able to say these things being “taught” aloud.  Imagine how you would feel were you never able to say these things, so you weren’t allowed to move on.  It was assumed that because you couldn’t say them, you must not KNOW them. And yet, all this time…   all this time you really did know these things.  Not only did you know these things, but you knew so much more.  But no one believed that you did.  No one treated you as though you did.  Less than a year ago I assumed Emma did not know.  Less than a year ago I assumed Emma did not understand.

Less than a year ago…

Emma waiting for the school bus with her string

*Em

An Unexpected Response and The Importance of Trust

During my supported typing session with Emma Saturday evening we discussed Little Red Riding Hood.  I asked Em what she thought Little Red was bringing Grandma in her basket.  Emma typed “blueberries”, which seemed like a terrific guess, particularly as Little Red could certainly have picked them herself, placing each blueberry in her basket as she made her way toward her Grandma’s house.  We discussed the wolf and I asked questions I thought it likely Em knew the answer to, but that I wouldn’t expect her to answer verbally, just as Pascal, who is helping me, advised.  Eventually I asked, “Em, what would you do if you were asleep in your bed and woke to see the big bad wolf?”  To which Emma typed,  ”I would go to the three little pigs house”.  Though she paused after she’d typed, “I would go to the”.  I urged her, “Take your time Em.  Write what’s in your head.”  She looked at me and whispered, “three little pig’s house.”  She then typed the rest of the sentence with me.  ”I would go to the three little pigs house.”

I looked at that sentence.  It took me a second and then I laughed and said, “Wow Em.  That is such a great idea!”  After all the three little pigs have had run-ins with the wolf.   They know, better than anyone, how to deal with him AND they figured out how to build a wolf-proof structure after much trial and error that the wolf cannot break into and where they are safe.  Emma grinned at me and then, very sweetly, patted my cheek.  I took her loving gesture as a sign of her encouragement and patience with me.

Supporting Emma’s typing is not easy.  It is actually much harder than I imagined it would be.  I am pretty sure Emma spoke the last four words of that sentence because she was not able to trust that I was able to support her well enough to type that.  I think she sensed my hesitation.  I had no idea what she was trying to type and because I am not well trained and am very new to this, my support varies and is not consistent yet.  I am hoping I will learn and be able to give her the support she needs to flourish and eventually type independently.  What is fascinating about FC (facilitated communication, more on that ‘here‘ and ‘here‘) is that had I asked this same question of Emma and expected a verbal response, I do not believe she would have given me this answer.  If she had, I would have been absolutely blown away.  These are not the types of things we have been able to “talk” about.  Typing is giving her the tool she needs to be able to express herself in a way that has not been possible to date.

As an aside, two years ago we hired a woman who developed a literacy program for Autistic children.  While I have some serious misgivings about certain aspects of her program, the literacy piece is extremely well mapped out and it was what finally gave Emma the tools and practice she needed to learn to form the letters of the alphabet and began to read, write and type.  Now two years later as a result, Emma is reading and writing at a second grade level, though it is probably much higher.  Emma was not taught through phonetics, in fact we never even taught her the names of the letters in the alphabet.  For two years Joe and I worked with Emma every day on her literacy program.  For more about that program you can read ‘here‘ and ‘here‘ or put the word “literacy” into the search box and everything I’ve written on the topic will come up (just be aware my ideas and views have changed pretty dramatically since many of these posts were written.)

I mention all of this, because I want people to understand that Emma did not sit down one day and begin typing in full sentences.  She did not suddenly pick up an encyclopedia and begin quoting from it.  I know there are those who have.  I wanted to pursue supported typing with Emma after going to the Autcom Conference this past October and meeting Pascal.  He was kind enough to speak with me about Emma and gave me some advice.  I didn’t know if she would be a good candidate for FC.  After all she has some language and typed independently with her two index fingers.  But I want her able to converse on a more sophisticated level.  It seemed to me, FC might be the method by which she would be able to do that.

I am always in awe of Emma’s patience with this world, with all of us, with me.  Her inner strength and resilience are incredible.  She has been ignored, doubted, talked down to, spoken of while she stood right there listening as though she were deaf, she has been misunderstood and treated as though she were incapable of understanding.  Were I treated this way I would be in a state of near constant rage, alternating with debilitating depression.  If any one of us were treated the way so many view and treat Autistic (whether non-speaking, marginally speaking or fully speaking) people, most of us would want to retreat from this world and lose all faith in people, even people we love.

I do not know how or where Emma gets the strength to greet each day with such cheer or how it is that she is so good-natured, kind and loving after all she has been through in her short life.  But she has and is.  I began this blog thinking it would be a document of Emma’s progress.  But in fact, this blog is a document of my progression.  I look back on entries made just a year ago and see how completely my ideas about Autism and my daughter have changed.  So much of what I thought and believed I no longer agree with or feel.  I have resisted the urge to delete all those past posts, because as horrified as I am by so many of them, I also know they are what I believed at the time.  My own journey is a reminder that we neuro-typical (not otherwise specified) adults can and do change, sometimes it just takes some of us a bit longer.

Me, Pascal, Richard and Em during our first “training” session

A Revised Interview With Amy Sequenzia!

After posting last week’s interview with Amy I asked her if she was comfortable with me asking some follow-up questions inspired by her answers to my original questions.  She, very generously, agreed.  This is the new extended interview! Amy talks about her poetry, (including a poem about having a seizure) writing, being in an institution and how it feels to be ignored and thought incompetent by so many.  This interview has also just been published on Huffington Post, click ‘here‘ to read it there and do “like” it, share it and tweet it.  We need Amy’s voice to be heard to counter the massive amounts of misinformation out there.  For all of you who wonder what you can do – share Amy’s voice.  Get people to read what she’s saying.  

Amy Sequenzia, a non-speaking autistic self-advocate, poet and writer, agreed to an interview with me. Amy is someone whose work I have been following since I met her this past spring. Her powerful book of poems, My Voice: Autism, Life and Dreams, can be purchased by contacting Amy here. Amy’s writing and poems are regularly featured on Ollibean.

2012-09-10-mail.jpegAZ: Hi Amy. Thank you so much for agreeing to this interview. You describe yourself as a self-advocate. Can you tell us how that came to be?

“I think it was in PA, when I had my first real contact with a group of autistics who where typing to communicate (The Lonesome Doves). That was in 2003, and I realized I could be speaking up for my rights to more people. After that I began writing poems that were a little bit about my life. Then I decided to write to, and meet with, legislators, was encouraged to write to newspapers and later for blogs.”

AZ: How old were you when you began writing poems?

“I wrote some things soon after I learned how to type that my family thought were poetic. When I was about 16 I had a good teacher, and I wrote poetry with her. But then she left and for a while I did not have good facilitators.”

AZ: Is poetry your preferred way of expressing yourself?

“Sometimes it is easier to write in verse. That happens when I want to write but the subject is upsetting or if I am hurting. Sometimes I just feel inspired.”

AZ: What were your dreams for the future as a child?

“I had many. I was surrounded by ableism, although I did not realize that back then. I remember two things: I wanted people to know I was smart, and I wanted the other kids to play with me.”

AZ: You’ve described how people have spoken about you when you were present, as though you couldn’t hear them or understand them. Can you talk about what that feels like?

“It feels like you don’t count as a whole person. It is rude and frustrating because I can’t respond or will not walk away. It makes me sad when people who love me do it anyway. Some people even continue to do this after being reminded that I can hear, type and think.”

AZ: Do you have memories of that happening when you were younger, before you could communicate through typing?

“Yes and I would get angry, frustrated, sad. Sometimes I would cry, sometimes I had a meltdown.
Sadly, it still happens.”

AZ: Were there things you did, sounds you made, actions you took when this happened?

“I answered in the question before, but I have to add this: I don’t have meltdowns anymore. But I need to have my support person with me to make sure I can express myself, if I want to. Some people still don’t get it.”

AZ: How did you learn to communicate through typing?

“It was a long and emotionally-draining session with someone from the Institute on Communication and Inclusion (I think it was called FC Institute back then). I was 8.”

AZ: From the day when you were 8, how many months or years did it take before you were able to type your thoughts and feelings, your opinions and able to converse, or was that immediate?

“It was immediate. But soon I began having seizures and for many years I made almost no progress. After that, finding good facilitators became harder. I can type with some people now, still hoping to be able to type with more.”

AZ: There’s been a great deal of negative notions and even so called “studies” done regarding facilitated communication. Can you address this idea that FC is not an accurate or meaningful way of communicating?

“It is how I communicate. It means it is how I can have my voice heard.

FC is a process, with clear steps and a final goal — independence. It is not easy and many factors play a part in the process.

As far as I know, from all the people who say FC is a hoax, none of them has ever interviewed a user who became independent, or has acknowledged the many studies, including double-blind studies done by different facilitators with different users. All this is documented.”

AZ: For those people who have only read the negative views on FC, is there anything that might make them understand what you experience when you try to communicate without FC?

“I am misunderstood. My face does not always show how I feel and I have other disabilities that prevent me from being more pro-active. My body can be stubborn. Without FC I don’t really participate in the world. But it is important to know that sometimes I choose not to type and other times I might be too overwhelmed or tired to type.”

AZ: Have you ever had a bad facilitator? If yes, how so?

“Yes. When I was in school, sometimes people would try to facilitate with me without any information about the method. Some would guide my hand; others would not offer resistance or the right support. I could not type like this.”

AZ: How did you cope with that?

“Sadly, I did not do anything. There was no encouragement from some and with others it was as if I was a piece of entertainment. I felt disrespected. FC is a lot of serious work. I had to wait until I met someone who believed in me and was committed to follow the best practices.”

AZ: How long did it take you to learn to type?

“I took only the first session for me to find out that I could type. Typing is also a matter of practice and trust. Today I am more confident and I can type fairly well with trained facilitators after a few minutes. If I know they will follow the best practices and nothing else interferes (like a seizure or spasms), I type really well, even if I don’t know the facilitator well.”

AZ: You mention that you have other disabilities. What are they and how do they impact your life?

“I have cerebral palsy and epilepsy. I also have dyspraxia. Movement is hard for me. I am unbalanced and I tend to bump on things; I have many bruises. I cannot go down stairs safely by myself. My body takes a long time to respond and I fall easily.

My fine motor skills are basically non-existent and get spastic sometimes. I don’t feel parts of my body as I think other people do.

I can deal with all that. But epilepsy is the worst. I have seizures almost every day, without warning, at any time. It is not nice.”

AZ: Can you talk about what it is like having a seizure? Do you have any warning?

“I wrote a poem…

Seizures

Seizures are like falling into
a sad and dark hole.
Rest is necessary and no sense
is strong enough
Yet the senses are very awake.
Beside me is my soul
so tortured by synapsis
of unconsciousness.
Seizures are hopelessness
going deep into the zone
of nothing.
A giant man coming after me
vital, intense
like an entity of torture.”

Copyright 2005 by Amy Sequenzia

“It is scary, I feel like I am falling in a deep, dark hole. I only realize I had a seizure when I am back, after a while. I also have partial seizures that are like hallucinations. I don’t remember anything about those.”

AZ: Is there anything you’d recommend to parents of nonverbal children who are hoping their child might communicate through typing and/or FC?

“Give your child every possible chance to communicate. Don’t believe in every article or every ‘expert’ who says FC does not work. Go to the Institute on Communication and Inclusion’s website (ICI Website click  here) and question them yourself. Being skeptical is okay. That’s why Dean Biklen and the others at the institute do such a good job documenting everything.”

AZ: My daughter Emma is just learning to read, write, and type. She is extremely resistant, however. I’ve been told this is often the case. Were you resistant to communicating in the beginning?

“No. I wanted to leave the school/institution where I was living, so I had to make it clear. But it can be scary to have all the power to say things that can change everything.

I don’t know Emma. Maybe she just needs some time.”

AZ: When were you in a school/institution and for how long?

“I was 6 and I asked to leave after I learned how to type, when I was 8 years old.”

AZ: Can you describe that experience?

“Painful, isolating, lonely.”

AZ: What are the most common misperceptions people seem to believe when they first meet you?

“That I am ‘not there,’ that I am not smart or that I cannot think by myself, that I am a child and that I deserve pity. None of these are true.”

AZ: If you could write a script for a stranger meeting you for the first time, what do you wish they would say?

“Not what they would say, but how they would approach me. With respect and interest. Not ignoring my disabilities or how I look and act — I am not ashamed of that — but wanting to know what I think, how I feel.”

AZ: What is your living situation like now?

“I live with friends. It is their house, but it is our home. We call it life sharing. I have state funding which is not good, especially in Florida. But because my friends respect me, I can have a life I can be proud of, and happy with.”

AZ: Did/do you have a mentor? If yes, can you talk about that experience and relationship?

“My mentors are people who show me the many possibilities of my life. They don’t always know that.”

AZ: I know several people consider you extremely important in their own process of learning to communicate and in their life. They think of you as a mentor. How has mentoring others changed you/helped you?

“I hope it has helped them. I still need mentoring. It is a good exchange of ideas, experiences, encouragement and support. It feels good to be considered important in someone else’s growth. It is lovely.”

“Thanks Ariane. This was a good interview. And thank you for being supportive of autistic voices.”

Amy’s voice needs to be heard.  Please help me inform the misinformed, educate those who are being given incorrect information by any number of well-meaning people not just in the field of Autism, but all fields of  ”Mental Health” as well as Education by sharing Amy’s words.  Email this, share it on Facebook, tweet it.  Amy has given interviews to others as well as written a great many pieces for other blogs.  I am listing but a few of them below.