Tag Archives: Amy Sequenzia

From Cure to Celebration

Yesterday Richard wrote a wonderful post on his blog entitled ~ Happy Father’s Day.  In it he talks about being a father and how having children has changed him and his life.  He ends the post with, “To all our children, thanks for making our lives matter!”  I love that.  That’s it, right there.  That’s the feeling I’ve had, but couldn’t find the words to so beautifully or succinctly express.

Richard also wrote, “…We got a beautiful boy, Nic. Eighteen months later, we got a beautiful girl, Emma. One of each, as they say. We got “one of each” in another way, too. One autistic, one not.”  I read that and smiled, because it’s so true.  We have been fortunate enough to have a child of each sex AND of two different neurologies!  Three years ago I would not have been able to write any of this, I was still in the – Autism is tragic – mindset.  But happily all of that has changed. Some people object to those of us who have chosen to celebrate our child’s neurology.  They say we are sugar-coating what is real and difficult and makes it seem less serious than it is.  I disagree with that thinking.  I think we can still acknowledge the massive challenges our Autistic children face in this world, while still celebrating who they are and the beauty of their specific way of thinking and being.

I do not, for a second, believe that my daughter has an easy time or that she will not face all kinds of things a non Autistic peer would not have to deal with, but I do not need to increase her challenges by not accepting her, believing in her and celebrating her, exactly as she is, now, in this moment.  Adding my expectations, despair and ongoing critique and comparison of her, to the very real issues she must cope with on a daily basis does not make her life easier.  And I really want to make her life easier, not harder.  I’d like to be the person who champions her, makes the bumps she will inevitably face a bit less bumpy and help her navigate some of the twists and turns of life, by giving her acceptance and unconditional love for every aspect of her being.

I keep thinking about all our children who have trouble speaking, how when they are able to communicate in some way, either through typing or speaking, we non autistics are far more likely to listen and assume intelligence than not.  I keep wondering what would happen if all our time, money and energy were spent on finding ways to help our children communicate through typing and other AAC devises, instead of on cures; would we see a shift in society’s perception regarding autism?  Or would all those people dismiss their words because they are written and not spoken?  Amy Sequenzia writes about this ‘here‘.

You see, we were one of those families who pursued the bio-med route.  For years I tried all kinds of things, thinking we could cure.  As long as I believed in a cure, everything else took a backseat.  What I didn’t realize was that accepting and celebrating my child, fully and without amendment was the answer I had been looking for in all those doctors and specialists who claimed cure remedies.  The remedy wasn’t a cure, the remedy was celebrating the child I have, exactly as she is – that’s the remedy.

Nic & Em

 

How My Fears Drove Me To Pursue a Cure

A year ago if you’d asked me what my single greatest fear was, I would have told you it was what would happen to my daughter when my husband and I both died.  This fear was so worrisome, so looming that I often stayed up at night worrying.  Well meaning people would reassure me that “things will work out, they always do” or “group homes aren’t so bad, many are run by loving, caring people”, but none of this gave me solace.  My fear was the driving force behind my desperate pursuit of various medical interventions and treatments for my daughter.  This fear, more than any other was what drove me to search for a “cure”.  When I thought of my daughter’s future I saw one of those dark, formidable, gothic institutions, now used as set locations for horror movies.  Once my mind had latched on to that visual image my fear became so overwhelming, my throat so constricted, my body so awash in terror I would literally shut down, like an overloaded circuit.  Fade to black.

So what changed?  I began to read things like this –

Amy Sequenzia, a non-speaking, writer, poet, Autistic self-advocate from her poem Feeling Good:

“Feel the warmth of another soul                                                                                                   Ban the thoughts that block the light                                                                                           Refuse to hear what hurts, listen to the                                                                                    cry for help behind it

Well-being, feelings of unity                                                                                                             We are all the same”

Julia Bascom from her blog Just Stimming, her post Quiet Hands:

“1. When I was a little girl, they held my hands down in tacky glue while I cried.

5. When I was a little girl, I was autistic.  And when you’re autistic, it’s not abuse.  It’s therapy.”

Again from Julia, her post, The Obsessive Joy of Autism:

“If I could change three things about how the world sees autism, they would be these. That the world would see that we feel joy—sometimes a joy so intense and private and all-encompassing that it eclipses anything the world might feel. That the world would stop punishing us for our joy, stop grabbing flapping hands and eliminating interests that are not “age-appropriate”, stop shaming and gas-lighting us into believing that we are never, and can never be, happy. And that our joy would be valued in and of itself, seen as a necessary and beautiful part of our disability, pursued, and shared.”

The Third Glance, Words and Growing up Autistic: On Nature, Nurture and Abuse where she ends with this:

“But I’m not invisible anymore. I’m here, and I’m me, quirks, obsessions, passions, stims and everything else that makes me unique. Look out world, here I come.”

There were so many others, so many voices out there, somehow reading these blogs calmed my fears enough that I was able to begin dissecting them.  I was able to pause, even for a moment, allowing me to ask, what is this?  What is this fear really?  And although my immediate answer was that these were fears based in very real, logical assumptions, I was able to see that they were just that – assumptions.  They were still not reality.  Not yet.  I was also able to realize those fears were causing me to act in irrational ways.  My thought that the fear was a healthy, natural response to what I believed to be the reality of the situation, prompting me to pursue all kinds of risky, unproven and untested “treatments” for my daughter’s autism was taking all of us down a dark, dark path.  That fear caused me to behave differently toward her, but I couldn’t see that until I’d stopped and saw how my behavior toward her changed.  When I was able to stop, just for a moment and examine the fear, the fear began to fall apart.

My fears were based in things I assumed were the inevitable consequence of what I believed my daughter was or wasn’t capable of.  But this was not based in fact, I don’t have the ability to see inside my child’s mind.  In addition my fears were clouding all the things she was doing that I ignored or couldn’t see or hear.  Every single day, my daughter displays her vast intelligence.  When I read the writings of Autistic people occupying every point on the so-called spectrum, I began to see that my assumptions, what I had assumed I knew and believed were not based in anything other than that.  It was at that point that I realized I had a choice.  I could choose to believe in her incompetence and the inevitable outcome this perceived incompetence would take us or I could choose to believe her competent, making that looming horror no longer a given.

As I wrote recently in a comment to someone,  I chose the latter because to do otherwise and be wrong would be far, far worse.  This is something I cannot risk or would be able to forgive myself for.  But there’s another piece to this that is also important, and that is when we assume great things are possible, great things tend to happen.  It’s human nature to strive for independence, to communicate, to connect, ALL humans want this. Given a little encouragement we can do things we never imagined possible, but given nothing or criticism we wilt, become sad and angry.  My belief in my daughter will not change the very real challenges she faces, but it does and will help her far more than if I do not.

I’m off to the AutCom conference!

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.  

An Interview With Amy Sequenzia

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.

Amy Sequenzia

AZ:  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:  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:  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?

“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:  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 (ICI) and question them yourself. Being skeptical is ok. That’s why dean Biklen and the others at the Institute do such a good job documenting everything.”  (Click for the link to the ICI website)

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:  Do you remember what it was like in the beginning for you? Were there things that could have helped you more that what was done?

“I wanted to type. I could choose food, clothes, anything. Then I began typing my thoughts. Maybe Emma is not interested yet. It has to be her choice, at her own time.”

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.”

Thank you so much Amy for being willing to answer all my questions.  Please help me thank Amy, everyone!