Category Archives: Autism Books

And the Winners Are…

Emma randomly chooses the winners...

Emma randomly chooses the winners…

This morning  I placed all the names of those who commented on yesterday’s post into a bowl and Emma randomly chose five names to win Barb Rentenbach and Lois Prislovsky’s hard cover book, I Might Be You

Be prepared to be blown away.  This book is absolutely wonderful.

To all the winners – Julie L., Edie, Kathy Quoyerser, Corinne Joly and Jill – I will be contacting you by email. Your book will be sent via United States Postal Service after I’ve received your address.

And for those who want to read it, but didn’t win, please consider purchasing this terrific book either as a hard cover or as an ebook available for all eReaders, or the audiobook, which I had the honor of recording with Barb and Lois in New York City last year.  I am the “voice of Barb” and documented that amazing experience ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘.

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without looking…

And the winners are...

And the winners are…

Michael Scott Monje Jr.

I want to introduce all of you to Michael Scott Monje Jr.  “Michael Scott Monje, Jr. is a graduate of Western Michigan University with an MFA in Creative Writing and a BA in English and Philosophy. He’s also autistic, a fact which everyone overlooked until he was in his late 20s.

Michael has a blog, Shaping Clay where he writes about a great many things including – Autism, Human Rights, Gender, and where his serial novel, Defiant can be read.

Mike’s novel The Mirror Project, a Sci-Fi psychological drama about artificial intelligence forces us to consider what happens when we create a being that cannot be “controlled” or forced to do as we bid.  There are moral and ethical implications, but more to the point, The Mirror Project is about oppression, our responsibility to not only each other, but to ourselves, and how we must relinquish the desire to control, in favor of encouraging and supporting one another’s independence, which in turn benefits the entire human race.

The artificial intelligence created is called Lynn, the name of the creator’s dead wife.

“Lynn’s existence is continuously dictated from without while she struggles to articulate the damage that her creators are doing to her.”

It was impossible for me to read this novel and not highlight the similarities between what Lynn ponders and what, I can only imagine, many who cannot easily access language or who have difficulty synching their mind with their body, must wonder.  Lynn asks early on “…what is the soul if it is not the constant awareness of the desolation of your own existence?”

Later Lynn protests the way she has been treated, “That attitude will open the door to all kinds of rationalized brutality on your part.  You might even break me and change my behavior permanently, but you will never be able to know that you did the right thing.  You’ll have to live with the idea that literally every experience I have for the rest of my life might be re-traumatizing me.  There’s no rationalizing that. You either refuse to create the situation in the first place, or you admit what you’re doing and accept the cost.  Could you accept the cost and live with yourself?”

Nothing’s Right is about a year in the life of an Autistic boy who must navigate the messy and painful maze of growing up in a family whose neurology differs from his own, a school that does not even attempt to understand him and a world where he is seen as the sum total of problematic behaviors.  Nothing’s Right has some of the most brilliant and haunting passages depicting “self-injurious behaviors” that I’ve ever read.

If you are not familiar with Michael Scott Monje Jr.’s writing, it is time you were.

You’re welcome.   🙂

The Mirror Project By Michael Scott Monje Jr.

The Mirror Project By Michael Scott Monje Jr.

Facing the Skeptics

It’s snowing.  In New York City.  Right now.

“Look Daddy!  It’s snowing!”  Em said this morning.

There’s nothing particularly spectacular about that comment, except to us, it’s not only spectacular, it is exciting and yet another example of how my husband and I continue to underestimate our child.  (This is less a criticism of us and more a statement of fact to illustrate a larger point.)

“Em, do you know who the president of the United States is?”

“Yes,” she spelled out.

“What is our president’s name?”  I asked.

“Barak Obama,” she spelled.

“Do you know our vice president’s name?” I asked, thinking this might be taking things too far.

“Yes,” she spelled again.

“What is the name of our vice president?” I asked.

“Biden,” she wrote matter-of-factly.

“Communication is the most essential use to which spelling should be devoted.  It should not be used as a test or an exhibition piece.  Try being confined to a sentence a week and see h ow you feel about using that sentence to answer some stupid question about whether you live in St. Nicholas.  If Rosie had spent all her time giving tests we would not have had time to use spelling for our own communication.  Crushing the personalities of speechless individuals is very easy: just make it impossible for them to communicate freely.” ~ Anne McDonald from the book Annie’s Coming Out

This is what we are striving toward.  Annie’s comment here is one I have read and reread and yet find so difficult to apply because I am in a near constant state of disbelief when it comes to all that my child is capable of.  I write often about presuming competence, I write about how we dehumanize Autistic people with the language that is commonly used to describe them.  I write about how important it is to treat all people as equal.  I talk about human rights and how the rights of those who are Autistic, particularly those who do not speak reliably or at all, are dismissed, ignored or simply not acknowledged.  And yet I underestimate my child’s ability constantly and without meaning to.

On a daily basis she writes something that blows my mind.  EVERY DAY.  Read that again.  Every.  Single. Day.  It’s like living in an alternate universe.  Every day I feel excited to know what the day will bring.  Every day when I sit down with her I am prepared to feel that mixture of excitement, surprise and overwhelming gratitude.  Every day I think, will I ever stop being surprised?  How long will it take?  I don’t know.  But here’s what I do know – everyday I am overcome with emotion, respect and profound joy in  all that is my daughter.  I am sincerely grateful to read what she tells us, and grateful to all the people who have made it possible for her to do so.  Grateful doesn’t cover the emotions, but it’s the best I can do at the moment.

Yesterday in her *RPM session (follow this link to read more about RPM, which is not the same as FC or facilitated communication, though there is some overlap in that they both presume competence and treat the person with the respect most of us take for granted) she was asked, “What else has an engine?”

Emma spelled out, “Lets say leaf blower.”

My smile was like the Cheshire Cat’s, from ear to ear.  Leaf blower?  I LOVE that!  And later she asked for a clarifying question and then wrote a wonderful answer to a question about what changed once we began using automatic train engines.

“Until I could prove that they were intelligent nobody would come and assess them.  Guilty until proved innocent.  The children were profoundly and hopelessly retarded until they could prove they were intelligent.”  ~ Rosemary Crossley from  Annie’s Coming Out

“It was simply too threatening; my discovery questioned the basic assumptions on which care was offered…”  ~ Rosemary Crossley from Annie’s Coming Out

My daughter is one of hundreds of Autistic people who are writing and typing to communicate and in doing so she is proving every day how extremely gifted she is.  We are at the very beginning with all of this.   There are others who are far ahead of us, those who have published their thoughts, with more being published all the time.  Incredibly, what Rosie experienced, those deeply held prejudices back in the 1970s, continue to flourish today, now more than thirty years later.

“This was one of our standard problems:  people who doubted the children were always so sure of themselves that they openly expressed their skepticism in front of them.  It did not occur to them that if they were wrong they were terribly rude, and that they were making it very difficult for the children to respond to them.  How do you talk to someone who tells  you that they are convinced that you cannot talk?  What are they going to ‘hear’ when you try to talk?” ~ Rosemary Crossley from Annie’s Coming Out

We are living in a time when more and more parents, educators, people who work with Autistic people and Autistic people are facing the skeptics.  We are offering continued proof of our children’s and Autistic people’s intellectual gifts, indisputable evidence of all they are capable of.   My daughter is but one of a great many.  As long as she gives me her permission, I will continue to report some of what she is saying here while hoping that one day soon she, and others like her, will no longer be placed in  the insulting position of having to prove their vast intelligence, and themselves, to anyone.

Rosemary Crossley and Anne McDonald

Unknown

The Way We Treat Others

There is no other life than this one.  It doesn’t matter what one believes regarding death and the after life, this is the one life we have, right here, right now.  How will we live it?  What we do, what we say, how we behave in this moment is indicative of how we do anything.

I’m reading Rosemary Crossley’s first book, Annie’s Coming Out, which she wrote with Anne McDonald and was made into a movie in the 80’s, released in the US under the title, “A Test of Love.”   (As a side note, I find it interesting that the book’s title places Annie as the protagonist and yet the US film title suggests the therapist is.  By the way, I’m one of the people who believes both Anne and Rosemary were/are heroic and have nothing but tremendous respect for both.)

“Children, even children who could sit up, were generally laid down to be fed.  Their heads would rest in the nurse’s lap, and their bodies would lie across another chair placed in front of her knees.  This meant children were being fed with their heads tilted right back, a method called, for obvious reasons, ‘bird feeding’: gravity drops the food straight to the back of the throat, and there is no chance to chew.  Children were encouraged not to shut their mouths – a second mouthful immediately followed the first.  I have filmed a nurse feeding a child:  food is piling high on his face because he is unable to swallow it at the rate the nurse spoons it in.”  ~  Annie’s Coming Out by Rosemary Crossley and Anne McDonald

The above is, but one of many harrowing passages in the book describing the institution Anne McDonald was placed in when she was three years old.

“To be imprisoned inside one’s own body is dreadful.  To be confined in an institution for the profoundly retarded does not crush you in the same way; it just removes all hope.”  ~ Anne McDonald in the book Annie’s Coming Out

It is impossible to read this book and not feel horror.  Horror at our ignorance, horror that a place like St. Nicholas Hospital was more the norm than not, horror for all we didn’t understand or know, horror for our capacity as human beings to treat one another with such indifference and cruelty.  It is easy to console oneself with the thought that this happened more than thirty years ago and this sort of thing would never happen now, not here in the United States, not now.

This article in the NYTimes was written just last year, I wrote about it and other atrocities ‘here‘.

How will we view the “treatments” commonly used with Autistic children thirty, forty years from now?  What will we think about the commonly held views regarding autism and Autistic people.  Will we look back with the same horror I feel as I read Annie’s Coming Out?

Anne McDonald and Rosemary Crossley

Anne-Mcdonald2-200x0

Sparrow Rose Jones’ E-Book

Sparrow Rose Jones wrote an e-book No You Don’t: Essays From an Unstrange Mind that is now available on Amazon.  The title comes from a powerful essay she wrote on her blog – Unstrange Mind –  in response to the many parents who have told her how they would like nothing more than to have their autistic child grow up to be like her.  Sparrow writes:

“I used to say, “I hope she’s much better off than I am,” or simply, “no, you don’t,” but over time I learned that parents refuse to accept that answer.  Maybe they think I’m doing that social thing where someone compliments you and you are expected to refuse the compliment a time or two, finally accepting it but maintaining your veneer of humility.  Or maybe they’re just baffled.  But sometimes they even got angry so I finally learned that I should answer, “thank you.  That’s very kind of you to say.”  Reinforced behavior — reinforced by social censure if I dare give the wrong response.”

Sparrow writes,

“… what I wish to come from this book:  a recognition of the shared humanity we all enjoy and a sense of connection among people coming together across a wide gap of experiential realities.”

And again from the essay – No, You Don’t:

“… they think, “my child is non-verbal.  My child goes to school and crawls around on the floor, meowing like a cat.  My child still wears diapers while all her same age peers have been toilet trained.  My child bites and hits people.  My child bites and hits herself.” And so on.

“Then they hear that I was many of those things, myself.  I was kicked out of the classroom for crawling on the floor and hiding under the tables.  My first grade teacher said I was “mentally retarded” and petitioned (successfully) to have me removed from her classroom.”

Further along she writes:

“I was raped.  I was abused — domestically and otherwise.  I was molested.  I was taken sexual advantage of.  I want you to teach your children to say no and I want them to know how to mean it and back it up when they say it.  I want you to teach your children to value themselves and I want you to teach them to own their bodies.”

Sparrow writes about how she lives in “crushing poverty”, how she has spent a great deal of time homeless, couldn’t keep a job,and was “unable to consistently keep a roof over my head or food to eat.

In her follow-up to her No, You Don’t essay she writes about the response she received because of it.  “There was a small group of people, though, who read my essay and became angry.”  She describes how she was attacked by parents of autistic children, “I felt like I was being punished for writing and all that compliance training kicked in as a result.  I closed down my blog.  I became physically ill from the stress and shame and ended up in the emergency room more than once as a result.

The next essay is called “Bullies, Bullying, and the Struggle to Speak My Heart”.  The first sentence of that essay is:

“Bullies have been one of the most constant things in my life.”

Sparrow writes:

“An Autistic kid who is behaving in a violent manner is an Autistic kid who is seriously suffering on a daily basis and needs a lot of help.  And being able to speak doesn’t always mean that a kid will be able to tell you what is wrong.”

There are too many wonderful essays in this e-book to quote in one short post.  Sparrow writes honestly with tremendous compassion for all of us.  She ends her beautiful collection of essays with this:

“May my journey of self-discovery inspire you to journeys of your own.  Where there is life, there is hope.  Autistic lives do not always look the way you might expect or hope they would look, but you must keep a sharp eye out for the tender flowers as you travel and you must understand that Autistics often bloom in surprising and exquisite ways.  Don’t try to shape us to your garden or we may wilt.  Enjoy and foster our own, unique beauty in all its fierce wildness and you will find your heart and your truest reward there.”

No You Don't

When Words Don’t Reflect What is in the Mind

Imagine being asked a simple question, say a question about whether you’ve ever been to New Zealand.  Now you know perfectly well that you’ve never traveled to New Zealand, though you have a pretty good idea of where it’s located, however it’s not a place you’ve spent much time thinking about and it wasn’t even on your top-ten-must-travel-to-before-I die list.  But when you opened your mouth instead of saying, “No, I’ve never been to New Zealand, why do you ask?” all you could manage to say was, “Yes!” and not just a sullen sort of yes, but a happy, eager and enthusiastic “YES!”

So now the person begins talking to you about New Zealand and maybe they’ve just returned or they were born and raised there and they go on and on and then say, “What was your favorite place in New Zealand?”  Well, since you’ve actually never stepped foot in New Zealand this question is impossible to answer and so maybe you say “vanilla cake” because the one thing you know about New Zealand is that people are referred to as Kiwis and your only reference to kiwis is when you tried an actual kiwi once and didn’t care for it, but your favorite thing to eat is vanilla cake and besides vanilla cake makes you happy and this conversation is making you anxious because you said “YES!” when you actually meant “no” but things have moved on so quickly that you are feeling tremendous anxiety and wish you could just go somewhere away from this voice that is speaking so quickly about a place you’ve never been to nor have any interest in.

They look at you with that look, it’s a mixture of irritation and surprise, like they cannot decide whether you are purposefully making fun of them, or are tuning them out because you’re rude and have no manners or because you are actually hungry and are wanting to eat some cake.  So they give you the benefit of the doubt and say, “Yeah, well we can’t eat vanilla cake right now and anyway we were discussing New Zealand, so I’d like you to focus so that we can continue.”  Feeling frustrated and maybe even ashamed that they think you’re rude, you try to make a friendly overture by saying, “I like vanilla cake.”  But instead of smiling they look even more angry and so your anxiety kicks into high gear and you bite your hand to center yourself and because you are overwhelmed with frustration.

Suddenly all thought of New Zealand and anything else gets tossed out the window, because here you are biting yourself to center yourself and also cope with how frustrated you are, but all it does is make the other person furious.  You are so completely misunderstood and without the means to explain, you are caught in a web of other people’s assumptions.  “Stop it!  We do not bite!” the person scolds and maybe they grab your hand and hold it done at your side.  Their grip is firm, so firm, it actually hurts, and they look so angry that it’s scary too.  They are restraining you and glaring at you and all because your mouth wouldn’t obey your mind and said, “Yes” when you meant “no”.

I have no idea if this is what it’s like for my daughter or others who have what I call unreliable spoken language, but these are the kinds of scenarios I imagine and wonder about.  Is this what it’s like?  One day she will tell me, but in the meantime, there are others who are now writing about similar things, when their mind knows but their body is unable to do as their mind wants.  This is what Ido writes in his book, Ido in Autismland:

“… my mom asked me to hand her a bag.  I kept handing her a piece of paper the bag was near.”

“It happens less often now but it was common when I was small in my ABA drills.  I wanted to touch a card but my hand had another plan so I had to redo drills until my hand got it.  Not my head.  It knew everything.  My hand had to learn the drill. It’s something for the neurologists to study.  This is why so many parents think their kids don’t understand them.”

Naoki Higashida in his book, The Reason I Jump, writes:

“…as soon as I try to speak to someone my words just vanish.  Sure, sometimes I manage a few words, but even these can come out the complete opposite to what I want to say.”

What would that be like?  How would it feel to be completely misunderstood, your every action misinterpreted by someone else who believes you meant something that you did not?

Tracy Thresher types during a Q&A at the ICI Conference ~ July, 2013

Tracy Writes

Non-Speaking With a Lot To Say

I am reading Ido in Autismland: Climbing out of Autism’s Prison by Ido Kedar.  This is another one of those MUST READ books.  Ido is a non-speaking Autistic teenager who learned to write his thoughts by pointing to a stencil board using Soma Mukhopadhyay‘s RPM method.  Ido now types on an iPad.  When I first received a copy of this book, I admit, I was put off by the subtitle.  You see, I was one of those people who once believed my daughter was trapped inside a prison that I called “autism” and for a long time I absolutely believed this.  This thinking led me to believe that if I could cure her, if I could remove her “autism” she would be released from its prison.  It was also this thinking that caused me to say how much I loved my daughter, but hated her autism.  Once I discovered blogs written by Autistic people I began to reassess these various beliefs and finally began to understand how my thinking was actually harming her.    I’ve written about some of this ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘.

But in reading Ido’s book and because I wrote directly to him and his mom about my initial reaction to the subtitle, I have come to understand that his reference to “prison” refers to being imprisoned in a body that does not obey what his mind wants, a mouth that does not say the words he wants to communicate and a society that perceives him as someone he is not.  But more importantly this is Ido’s story and is about the way he perceives autism as it relates to himself and what he has been through as a result. To not read this terrific book because of semantics or because Ido’s perception of autism as “illness” is one I found unhelpful and even harmful to my family and daughter, would mean I would have missed reading a great book written by a really insightful and wise young man who had to fight against prejudices and preconceived ideas about who and what he was capable of.  This is Ido’s story and what a wonderful story it is!

In the introduction, Tracy Kedar, Ido’s mother, writes,

“The ideas in this book challenge many assumptions long held by professionals working with autistic people.  In our own experience, Ido broke free in spite of, not because of, the mainstream thinking today.  If we had continued to rely on  the specialists and educators who dominated Ido’s early years, if he had not been able to find a way to show me that he could read and write, and if I had not finally trusted my own eyes and impressions, Ido would still be stuck as he was, locked internally, underestimated and hopeless.  It is time for our understanding of autism to undergo yet another paradigm shift, and Ido, along with other non-verbal autistic communicators, is a pivotal guide.”

*The use of bold is mine, used for emphasis and is not in the book.

Just as a quick aside, Soma’s RPM method begins with written choices, progresses to a stencil board with the student pointing to the desired letters with a pencil, then to a laminated alphabet board and eventually to an iPad and computer.  Soma or the person doing RPM does not come into physical contact with the student and once the student has moved to a laminated board, she even encourages the student to hold the board themselves.  The final step is to move from the laminated board to independently typing on an iPad or computer.

This quote was written by Ido in 2008 regarding his body and mind and how the two do not obey each other.

“Time after time people assume that I don’t understand simple words when they see me move wrong.  Understanding is not the problem.  It’s that my body finds its own route when my mind can’t find it.”

Again in 2008, Ido writes about his life before he learned to communicate using RPM.

“They misinterpreted my behavior often.  For example, I remember that during my ABA supervisions, I sometimes ran to the window over the parking lot in an attempt to show them that I wanted to go to my car.  They didn’t understand how a non-verbal person might be communicating.  Once, when I got really mad I urinated in my seat, but the supervisor just thought I couldn’t hold my bladder.

“But even worse was that they didn’t support me when I began to communicate.  Maybe they assumed I was too dumb, or they simply couldn’t see what I had learned because I learned it in a different way than their methods.  The response to everything was to give me drills.  If I had a dollar for every time I had to touch my nose, I’d be rich. I remember one day they realized that I hated being told to touch my nose, so they brilliantly switched the command to “touch your head.”  I felt like a prisoner of these theories and methods…”

“On Being Silent and Liberated from Silence”

“Can you imagine silence your entire life?  This silence includes writing, gestures, and non-verbal communication, so it is a total silence.  This is what a non-verbal autistic person deals with, forever.  Your hopes dim, yet you persevere in going to ABA or Floortime (play focused treatment for autism) or speech therapy, all to no avail.  The therapists can’t help and you despair, and only you know that your mind is intact.  This is a kind of hell, I am certain.

“The experts focused on stim management, or drills of rote activities, or silly play like finding things in Play Doh, over and over, on and on.  But they never taught me communication.  I shouted to them in my heart, “I need to communicate!”  They never listened to my plea.  It was silent.

“I could read from an early age.  I could write too, only my fingers were too clumsy to show it.  In school I sat through ABC tapes over and over and added 1+2=3 over and over.  It was a nightmare…”

Ido writes how when he was seven years old his mother supported his hand in an effort to have him help write invitations to his birthday party and how she could feel he was attempting to move his hand and in this way realized he could write.  But things did not immediately change.  No one believed him or his mother.

“My ABA team tried to convince my mom that she was wrong.  This hurt me so much because I thought they’d be happy for me and teach me how to communicate better.”

My daughter has asked that I read Ido’s book to her, so I am.  It has opened up a whole discussion about communication, what it means to not be given the tools to do so, what is autism, what it means to be autistic, being in a body that often does not do as one would like and what others believe as a result of actions you often have little if any control over.

Ido

One of My Favorite Blogs…

There’s a blog I love called, Musings of an Aspie written by Cynthia Kim.   Cynthia Kim also has a book, I Think I Might Be Autistic , which is now available as an e-book and in paperback.  She writes about her decision to pursue a diagnosis, with lots of tips for those who might be thinking of doing the same.  “I Think I Might Be Autistic: A Guide to Autism Spectrum Disorder Diagnosis and Self-Discovery for Adults” begins from that “aha!’ moment, addressing the many questions that follow. What do the symptoms of ASD look like in adults? Is getting a diagnosis worth it? What does an assessment consist of and how can you prepare for it?”  But the book is much more than just advice about whether to get a formal diagnosis or not.  It’s about identity, who we are, what that means and why we care.

On Cynthia’s blog she writes about marriage, motherhood, being a “self-employed aspie” as well as a whole host of other topics.

Here are a few of my favorite quotes and posts from her blog:

From Beyond The Talk:  What Else Autistic Girls Need to Know About Puberty

When it came to puberty, my parents did what many parents in the seventies did: they gave me a book about puberty written especially for girls. It was a slim cranberry hardback with an ambiguous title like “Everything is Changing.”

I was a voracious reader, so I would curl up in my beanbag and scour the pages for clues to the mysterious changes that were on the horizon. I think I had many of the same fears, anxieties and curiosities about puberty as my friends had. Certainly my body went through the same changes that other girls experienced. However, I think there are some areas where girls on the spectrum would benefit from additional information or guidance. That’s what I’m going to focus on in this post.

Cynthia wrote a kind of parody about “NT’s” in the same writing style so commonly used when non autistic people write about Autistics.  It is perhaps, one of my favorite posts, although it’s hard to say as there are a number vying for that position.  The quote below is from her post, What is Neurotypical?

“Perhaps the most obvious giveaway is an NT’s tendency to make “small talk” or to want to “chat” with you. While small talk appears to be nonfunctional, for NTs it serves a very specific purpose. It’s a good idea to humor them and participate to whatever degree you can tolerate. If you’re patient with them, many NTs will soon feel comfortable enough to move from small talk to more interesting, in-depth conversations.

Another common sign that someone is an NT? Touching. NTs enjoy all sorts of physical contact and often use touch to greet friends, family and even casual acquaintances. While it’s hard to fathom why your real estate agent or hairdresser feels the need to send you off with a hug, try not to be judgmental while fending them off. NTs are simply wired differently.”

From Cynthia’s Aspergers and Marriage Series, Lessons From an Aspergers – NT Marriage :

The Scientist: “You don’t have to make my lunch every morning. I can pick something up in the cafeteria.”

Me: “I don’t mind. It only takes a few minutes and I know you’d rather have something healthy to eat. This way you don’t have to waste time waiting in line.”

The Scientist: “So you mean you make my lunch because you care about me, right?”

Exactly.

I will end with a quote from her post, A Cognitive Defense of Stimming (or Why “Quiet Hands” Makes Math Harder):

The obvious reason for objecting to “quiet hands”-type instruction is that it shames the child for moving in a way that is natural and comforting for them. Others have written eloquently and in great depth about this subject; I’ve linked to some key pieces below rather than repeating what has already been said.

The case I want to make against “quiet hands” is that in addition to being emotionally damaging, it’s cognitively counterproductive. Think back to the experiment where the people who were told to resist eating chocolate gave up more easily on solving puzzles. Substitute stimming for chocolate and learning long division for solving puzzles. Add in the fact that autistic people have impaired executive function to begin with, making inhibition of actions more challenging, and you can see why asking a child to resist stimming is counterproductive if you’d also like them to learn a new skill.

For those of you unfamiliar with Cynthia’s work, I urge you to go now and enjoy, and for those who already know about her writing, how did my medley of some of my favorite posts from her blog measure up against yours?

Cynthia's Book

A Different World

To piggy-back on to Richard’s “Shift” post; mine began with a slight tremor in the form of a book.    Autism and Representation Edited by Mark Osteen.   That book opened my eyes to so many things, but most importantly it introduced me to the words, the voices and lives of many adult autists.  After reading Autism and Representation, I started looking for other writings by autists.

While I was doing all of this, my friend, Kelly (I consider her my friend, though we have never actually met, nor spoken) commented on one of my posts with a link.  I went to the link, (written by an autistic adult) couldn’t believe what I was reading, read everything on her blog and began reading all the blog links she listed.  From those links I was introduced to dozens more and finally mustered up the courage to respond to someone’s comment on one particularly controversial post, written by a mom of an autistic child.  For me, someone who was now showing up very, very late to the party, I was fascinated by the comments written by autists much more than the post itself.  Being the compulsive and thoroughly obsessive person that I am, I systematically went through every single comment, madly clicking on each and every person’s link and began reading their blogs.  This was the beginning of what turned out to be the education of a lifetime.  Wow!

One of the links led me to the WrongPlanet where I read the interview with Henry Markram about his Intense World Theory of Autism.  His theory confirmed everything I felt I’ve known about Emma, but that many specialist said wasn’t true.  On the contrary, the common thought about autists is that they lack empathy and therefore feelings.  Finally I was reading something that resonated.  Markram’s theory has opened up another world to me.  I have always known Emma was very intelligent, I have never doubted that, ever.  But his theory of intense feelings and pain memory and how this causes the child to withdraw… well it was like being told you really are seeing what you thought you’d been seeing all these years.

Up until this last week, my fear of what the future held for Emma was something I could not begin to describe.  Everything about her future filled me with terror.  Every birthday marking another year gone by, filled me with trepidation.  Each time we had to teach her to state her correct age, I gulped down massive amounts of fear.  The fear was so great I could do nothing other than tamp it down.  I kept a firm grip on it.  The minute I felt myself sliding into it, I pushed myself back out.  That takes a lot of energy.  It takes up a lot of space.  I didn’t even know I was doing it until I began reading these blogs written by autistic adults.  Adults with a wide variety of issues and challenges.

It’s not as though I read these blogs and thought – oh isn’t it great how cheery and easy everything is for them.  Because it isn’t, far from it.  But somehow, reading about individual lives, feelings, struggles made it less frightening.  Reading the outrage, the cries to be heard, the desire to be respected and treated as such, the ridicule many have endured, the bullying ALL have endured, made it real for me in a way that I could not have anticipated.  And in doing so, the abject, nameless, all encompassing fear I have tried so hard to shove away,  dissipated, because there is this community that is like her, a community of people who understand her, who are fighting with courage, tenacity and determination to be heard.  They are fighting and speaking out, many with the hope that one day Emma and those like Emma who are just being diagnosed now and those yet to be born, won’t have to.  I am profoundly grateful to each and every one of them.  If we want autism awareness, these are the voices that need to be heard.  It is up to us to listen.

For more on our journey through Emma’s childhood of autism, go to:   Emma’s Hope Book

Research & Books on Autism

My mother sent me a fascinating article in Discover Magazine by Carl Zimmer, entitled The Brain.  A neuroscientist who specializes in autism, Eric Courchesne, has detected a pattern in the MRI scans of individuals with autism.  He found that within the first year of life the brains of children with autism are significantly larger than those of same age neuro-typical children.  He also found that a neural explosion takes place during that period, which then tapers off by age five and by the time some of those children are teenagers their brains actually had begun to shrink.  He goes on to say that this points to the origins of autism occurring during the second or perhaps third trimester of pregnancy.  He speculates that it may be a virus and/or some sort of environmental influence that triggers the overproduction of neurons during that period.

This theory is one that Emma’s neuoropsychopharmacologist suggested to us many years ago.  I am interested to see where this research will take us.

Someone asked me the other day what books on autism I recommend.  There are three specifically that I think are essential reading for anyone interested.  The first, Autism and Representation edited by Mark Osteen is an exploration of the various ways autism is represented in film, books and other forms of public media.   It is one of the more interesting books written on the subject of autism.  The other two are written by the late Clara Claiborne Park about her daughter whom she calls Elly in the first book, The Siege and by her real name Jessy in the second, Exiting Nirvana.  These two books were pivotal for me in the years following Emma’s diagnosis.    Elegant, intelligent and beautifully written, I cannot recommend any books written by the parent of a child with autism more highly.  She was the first to write of her relentless desire to understand, support and help her daughter during that unfortunate period in time when mothers were blamed for their child’s autism.  When I learned of Clara Park’s death in July, 2010, I wept.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, go to:   Emma’s Hope Book