Tag Archives: Autism

Advice for Parents With a Newly-Diagnosed Autistic Child – By Rina

The other day I read a wonderful piece of advice written by Rina, a friend of mine, who is Autistic.  Rina’s thoughts were what I wish I’d been told when Emma was first diagnosed, so I asked Rina if I could share them and she, very generously, gave me permission.  Rina’s words also reminded me of Kamila and Henry Markram’s Intense World Theory for Autism, which was the first “theory” I read that finally made any sense to me or even remotely reflected back what I was seeing in my child.

Rina told me she self-diagnosed early in 2007 after reading “The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time and was formally diagnosed in 2009.  Rina wrote, “…knowing this about myself has been the revelation of my life. I am exponentially happier, healthier, and more confident since learning this about myself. Now I understand myself!” A little later as we were discussing this post, Rina said, “I was over 40 when I discovered I was autistic, so I spent a large part of my life just thinking I was broken, weird, wrong…” Then she wrote,  “I was bullied terribly in public school, like most of our tribe, it demolished my self-esteem, I was depressed and suicidal…but not now. I am autistic and proud, awesome and I know it!”

I read Rina’s advice to parents to Emma before posting here.  Emma typed, “It nicely states what is important.”  So with that endorsement, here you go and thank you Rina for allowing me to reprint your words.

“You know what? I have lots of thoughts, and I’ve had them for a while, about what I’d like to tell parents of newly-diagnosed autistic children. Maybe I’m talking out of my ass. But this is what I’d tell them. (assuming a boy in this example, for ease of writing…)

Your child is autistic. His brain is wired differently than yours. Autism is a disability. He will have challenges, but with the proper supports, he will have a happy, healthy, fulfilling life.

He will follow his own developmental schedule. Ignore the usual “markers”. Throw them out the window. They will be of no use to you.

Try to remember, always, that your son is experiencing the world in far more detail, and with far more intensity, than you are. It will take a lot of time for him to learn to regulate sensory input. His experience of the world (meaning sights, smells, sounds, peoples’ energy, conversation, others’ expectations of him) will overwhelm him on a daily basis. Have compassion for your son. He will be unlike any other child, even any other autistic child. If you pay close attention, with a compassionate open mind, he will tell you what he needs.

There are four things that can be of most help to your son, especially while he is very young: quiet, calm, consistency, and comfort. More than any recommended (and expensive) therapies, these will be of most help to your son. He may have repetitive and/or sensory-rich behaviors, such as rocking, squeezing a favorite toy, repeating favorite words–these help him to find some order in the chaos of the world–if they do not harm him or others, please allow him these behaviors, no questions asked. If they embarrass you–well, quite honestly, that’s your problem and you need to find a way to deal with it.

If your son is nonverbal or semi-verbal, trust me that he is looking for ways to communicate with you. Behavior *is* communication. If there is behavior that upsets you, that seems tantrum-like, there are probably reasons in the environment, there are things that are causing your son pain–again: try to make his world quiet, calm, consistent, and comfortable.

Consistency: I cannot emphasize how important this is. If days cannot be consistent, give your son warning whenever something unexpected is going to happen. I am an adult, and it is still one of my stated accommodations that I need a head’s up whenever something new comes along, or I need a break so I can process the change. If you’re planning to take him along to his sibling’s baseball practice, to stop by a friend’s house, to go to a yard sale, whatever…plan in advance, tell him about it, tell him what to expect and how long it will last. You know what, I think this is common courtesy. Understand what your son needs and be courteous by giving it to him!”

compassion-energy

An Interview with Emma About Halloween

What follows is an interview I did with Emma regarding her thoughts about Halloween.

Ariane:  What do you like best about Halloween?

Emma:  The excitement of dressing up in costumes with no attention paid for oddities.

Ariane:  There were a great many people out.  What was it like to be among such large crowds of people?

Emma:  Wanting to be a part of the crowd and not necessarily the same.  There is acceptance in that.

Ariane:  Did you like going from house to house and interacting with the people?

Emma:  Yes, I like having one day when I am not penalized by strangers for being me.

Ariane:  What else about Halloween that you like or do not like?

Emma:  I mostly enjoy being with so many, on a night when individuality is celebrated.

Family Photo - Halloween 2014

Family Photo: (from left to right) Ariane, Emma, Richard & N. – Halloween 2014

Heading out while it's still light...

Heading out while it’s still light…

Many others had the same idea...

Many others had the same idea…

Richard terrified small children everywhere.

Richard takes a seat.  It’s hard work being this frightening.

A night when individuality is celebrated.  (Random stranger who was happy to pose with dogs.)

A night when individuality is celebrated. (Random stranger who was happy to pose with dogs.)

The dead rises… and gives out candy to all who ask.

The dead rises… and gives out candy to all who ask.

Heading home...

Heading home…

“Mistaken Beliefs People Have”

I asked Emma what she wanted to write about this afternoon during her writing session.  She typed, “Deconstructing the mistaken beliefs people have.”

I encouraged her to continue and asked what she was thinking of specifically.  She typed, “Mostly what people think they understand there cannot be, when talking about autism, creating lots of bad ideas that attract unoriginal therapies we must put up with.”

“Wow!  Keep going,” I urged.

“Actors playing roles the audience greets with enthusiasm, but an autistic person who doesn’t speak as expected, or at all, is booed off stages throughout the world.”

“Such a great point,” I said.

Emma typed, “The people of this world need to be exposed to difference and then shown compassion for their ignorance and limited thinking.”

She smiled and then typed, “Put it on the blog!”

And so I am.

Austin1

The Assumptions We Make

When I first heard the words “presume competence” I had no idea what that meant.  I cobbled together some ideas of what I’d read and thought it meant and did my best to put them into action.  I did a great deal of “acting as if” and reminded myself, when my daughter wandered off in the middle of my explaining something to her, to keep talking anyway.  When she didn’t seem to look at whatever it was I was showing her I pretended that I knew she was taking it all in.  I pretended I believed, even when I didn’t.  And when my energy was depleted I would not place demands on either of us.  If I wasn’t able to take actions that were centered in presuming competence then I tried not to take any actions at all.

In the beginning the best I could do to show a presumption of competence was to read age appropriate books to her.  This was when Emma was eight years old.  I still remember the first book I read that wasn’t considered “young” for her age.  It was a biography of Balto, the Siberian Husky who raced through a blizzard in whiteout conditions delivering a much needed serum saving countless people sick with diphtheria in Alaska.  After Balto, I read a biography of Helen Keller specifically for children and then, because Emma seemed to enjoy it so much, we read the autobiography of Helen Keller, all the Mary Poppins books, followed by The Wizard of Oz, Alice in Wonderland, The Secret Garden, The Tale of Despereaux, Winn Dixie, Bridge to Terabithia,  Little Women and on and on we went.

At first I was unsure whether she was even listening, let alone enjoying any of these books.  But one night as she settled into bed, and when I didn’t pull out a book, Emma sat up and said very clearly and distinctly, “Helen Keller.”  Emma was not typing yet, so I wasn’t completely sure she really wanted me to read Helen Keller or if she was just saying the name because it was what I’d been reading.  I distinctly remember questioning whether she really wanted me to read the book because it interested her or because this was just part of an established routine and then I had a moment of guilt for doubting her.

As I said, Emma wasn’t typing yet, so there was little we could point to that backed up our decision to presume competence.  There was no “evidence” to suggest what we were doing had anything to do with anything other than a hope and a wish.  As presuming competence is not typically done in the general population or at any of the schools she went to, we were definitely doing things differently.  There were times when I doubted what we were doing. There were times I didn’t believe.  There were times I wondered – what if we’re wrong about all of this.  What if what everyone says is true, really is?  What if?  What if?

In the end I just kept coming back to the thought that presuming competence harmed no one, but to not presume competence and to be wrong would do tremendous damage.   As time went on and it became clear just how many mistakes we had made, I became more determined than ever to err on the side of support, encouragement and believing in her rather than the other way around.  It is strange that the focus is so often on all that is challenging, rather than encouraging all that is not.  Often that thought was the only thought that kept me moving forward.  Sometimes one idea, just a single idea is all it takes.

To presume competence became a living amends and a way of life.  At the very least it is something I can do that is not going to add another item to that lengthy list of mistakes made.

Emma and Balto ~ 2010

Emma and Balto ~ 2010

New Beginnings

Emma suggested I write about “new beginnings and offering ways to practice tolerance and hope for those who despair.”

I asked Emma what she suggested to those who are in despair.  She typed, “Best to give despair less space.”

“Yeah, okay.  How do you suggest people do that?” I asked.

“By filling the mind with all the beauty that is life,” Emma typed.

Yesterday Emma, B. and I talked about what happens when one becomes overwhelmed and how this is a human response, no matter what the neurology.  Overwhelm and feelings of not being able to cope are things all people feel from time to time.  We discussed different ways people try their best to cope: taking a break, taking a nap, acts of kindness, identifying all one has, gratitude, helping others, being alone, quiet, taking a bath or a walk, being in nature…

Emma described her feelings of overwhelm as, “my mind becomes jumbled and louder.”  Her words certainly resonated as this is exactly how I feel as well when everything seems too much and feels more than I can cope with.  Then Emma typed, “there should be practice before it gets too jumbled.”  This then led to a discussion about meditation and how those who meditate regularly call it “practice” because it is something one does daily and can help when “the mind becomes jumbled and louder.”

At the end of a lengthy conversation Emma typed, “I do want to try meditation.” And so we will.

The Buddha with Merlin

The Buddha with Merlin

Raging Screams and Shame

The other week I was present for the following typed exchange by two people.  Both are Autistic and both cannot use spoken language to communicate.  (Their names have been changed, as even though both agreed to have their words published here, this issue is sensitive and distressing, as well as deeply misunderstood by most non autistic people.)

Layla:  You have an extremely loud stomp.  (This was in reference to the noise Jerry made several days earlier and that Layla heard while working in a neighboring room.)

Jerry:  Is that a guess or are you certain?

Layla:  If you tried to hide it then you gave away the secret.

Jerry:  That is what I am behaving like on some days but proud I am not.

Layla: I heard it all and was curious and wanted to give help.

Jerry: Really do you believe that I am not evil?  (J. turns his head so he is staring down at the table.  His body is completely still.  It is a noticeable change from the way he usually sits while having a conversation with Layla.)

Layla:  Evil is not this and best to forgive yourself.

Jerry:  Thank you for not judging me.

Layla:  I  only ask for the same respect.

Jerry:  The deal is on.

I asked Layla and Jerry if I could transcribe their conversation and publish it here because non speaking Autistic people and the way they act in times of stress or overwhelm are so poorly understood.  Non autistic people who witness the actions (often termed “behaviors”) of a non-speaking Autistic person who is overwhelmed, perhaps frightened, often ashamed, unable to control their movements and unable to express themselves are often viewed with annoyance, irritation, fear and/or bewilderment.  As the non-speaking person cannot make themselves understood, they are at the mercy of those who care for them.

As I watched this conversation unfold I was struck, once again, by the disconnect between what most of the world believes about autism and Autistic people and the reality.  Jerry expressed profound shame and upset and Layla responded with  identification and deep compassion.

Their exchange reminded me of something Emma wrote about four months ago after having had a terrible night.  I wrote about that ‘here.’  One of the things she typed was:  “Pounding terror is all that remains.”  More recently she wrote, “The raging screams in my head are starving and want to consume me.”

Raging screams…  Pounding terror…

August, 2014

August, 2014

Some Emma Quotes

Each day is a day of discovery with moments of elation and excitement…  at least this is my take away from the past few weeks.  Here are a few of Emma’s comments along the way that she gave me permission to post.

Discussing black holes  (Dr. C and Emma are kindred souls.)

Dr. C:  What has happened to the atomic structure within a black hole?

Emma:  Opportunity to riot.  Structure is chaotic.

Dr. C:  Basically this is correct.  The gravitational pull is so strong that the atomic structure has collapsed.  Thus nuclei and electrons are fused together with no space between them.

Emma: Just like society during a riot.

Dr. C:  These societal people have collapsed onto each other to further this analogy.

Emma:  Exactly.

After reading  Act 1 Scene 1 of Romeo and Juliet

Ariane:  So what do you think so far?

Emma:  Understand that it is a heady play and play on words that pities human rage and love equally.

Reading and discussing the Texas Revolution 

Emma:  Because of dissent a culture was born.

Regarding the Trail of Tears and how the Cherokee were the last tribe to make the grueling 800 plus mile trek to the “Indian Territories” I asked Emma to tell me something about this picture. 

Trail of Tears

Trail of Tears

Emma:  Exodus.  Forced displacement of people with little choice.  It tells something about man’s wish for power.  Oppression is an ongoing story.

And finally on the topic of being home and not in a classroom setting – Emma typed, “naturally living in world’s infinite candy store of learning is to be in constant awe.”

Being Home aka When School is No Longer an Option

Last spring we made the decision to pull our daughter from her middle school.  We did not come to this decision easily or without a great deal of thought.  Ultimately we decided we had no other choice.  Neither Richard nor I are “teachers.”  We are both far too impatient.  For the longest time I thought homeschooling meant recreating “school,” but at home.  This thought was both so awful and terrifying to contemplate, and was probably the reason it took me (I can’t speak for Richard) so long to come around to the idea, that having a child at home would be a good thing, and not bad.    

In many ways I wish school was still an option, but it isn’t. Richard and I know this. The conventional route is evidently not in the cards for us and frankly it never has been, but it’s taken me awhile to come to terms with what this means. That feeling of exhilaration and freedom, so many who do not have “school” as a part of their children’s lives talk about, is only now something I’m starting to feel and experience.  So it was with great joy that I read Emma’s thoughts on not going to school.  

Emma wrote, “Bathing for the first day of school is better when your classroom is closer by.”  When asked what she thought about not going to school, she wrote, “It’s invigorating.”  Then she paused and finished with, “I am a lucky gal.”   

When asked for advice on how we can help her learn and pursue her interests, she wrote, “Relax and relax some more.”

Which… yeah.  That’s sound, solid, advice for just about anything one is doing.

Back to school

 

Statistics and Parenting

Fear.  I have grappled with fear my entire life.  I’m 54 years old.   You’d think I’d have figured out a magic formula to ward off fear by now…  but I have not.  However I have figured out some things that used to frighten me, but that no longer do.  Things like this:

“Among all autistics, 75 percent are expected to score in the mentally retarded range on standard intelligence tests — that’s an IQ of 70 or less.” ~ Wired Magazine 2008

“Roughly 25 percent of people with autism speak few or no words.” ~ SFARI 2013

These two quotes had not yet been written when my daughter was diagnosed, instead there were countless other “statistics” spoken and/or written as though fact, that terrified me.  I had not yet learned to question everything we were told about autism.  I had not yet realized that almost everything people said to us about autism and our daughter would turn out to be untrue.  I had not yet understood that it was these types of things that caused me fear, not my daughter.

Often someone reaches out to me and they are filled with the same fear I once felt.  They remind me of all those predictions, the “statistics,” the warnings, all the things people said to us that caused me to stay up at night.  Terrified because the way autism was spoken of was filled with dire predictions, awful statistics, and because I did not yet know what autism would mean for my daughter.

It is one thing to read statistics that make you feel terrified and another to live with a person these statistics claim to represent.  A lived life, a human life, a living, breathing, feeling, human being who also has fears and thoughts and desires.  So many parents need help figuring all of this out so they can help their children flourish.  Parents who hear and read all the terrible things people say about autism and Autistic people and then are faced with their child and find all those things being said distance them from the genetically closest human being they will ever experience in this life.  (This was something Emma wrote to her brother not so long ago – “the one closest genetic person to you.”)

Statistics do not help us parent better.

One of the single most important things Richard and I began doing was to talk to Emma as though she understood, even when we were not sure she did, even when she walked away, even when she seemed uninterested, had her back to us, closed her eyes, said words that seemed completely unrelated, wandered off to some other part of the room, even then, we kept talking to her, including her in whatever conversation was going on.  And now.  Now we are so glad we began doing that, because, as it turns out, we were right, she understood it all.

She understood it all.

August, 2014

August, 2014

Another Year…

It’s been eleven days since anything was posted on this blog, the longest stretch, in the more than four years of its existence, that it has lay dormant.  It was not intended, but instead just happened.

This has been a year of incredible transformation…  I’ve turned a year older today and yet see how much there is to still learn.  Learning and traveling…  nothing makes me feel more alive, more happy, more eager.  And because of my daughter, I am learning more than I ever believed possible.  But that is for another post(s).  Today…  today is a day I am celebrating my family, friends and beautiful life.

Coyote looking back at us with the same curiosity we were viewing them.

Coyote roaming the ranch, looking back at us with the same curiosity we were viewing them

Heading out on a hike

Heading out on a hike

One of a number of bucks who hang around the barn...

One of a number of bucks who hang around the barn…

Sunset - The Rocky Mountains

Sunset – The Rocky Mountains

A rare photograph of  Richard and Ariane together as Ariane is usually behind the camera and not in front of it… Photograph taken by John Kelly.

A rare photograph of Richard and Ariane together as Ariane is usually behind the camera and not in front of it…
Photograph taken by John Kelly.

Wishing all of you a wonderful day.

More will be revealed…

Emma Interviews

Emma has been interviewing various family members.  So I wasn’t surprised when she wrote that she wanted to conduct another interview.  Except this time she wrote that she wanted to interview me.  This is part one of that interview…

Emma:  What sparks your imagination more? Words? Pictures? Music?

It depends on the situation.  I have been inspired and moved by all three at various times and can think of examples of each sparking my imagination.  If I had to put them in order of most moving and inspiring, I would have to say visual, whether experiential as in scenic or static pictures, painted, photographs, sculpture, visual art.  But even as I say this I’m thinking of music that has brought me to tears, and literature and poetry that completely captivated, even non fiction writing, particularly memoirs have completely enthralled me.  Each has inspired and sparked my imagination.  I don’t know that I can choose!

Emma:  Who do you wish you could have known and why?

My grandfather, your Great-Grandfather.  He is the one your granma, my mother speaks so highly of.   It would have been nice to have had the experience of knowing him.  He was also an extremely ambitious, smart and I’ve been told, fascinating man who lived a complicated and unusual life.  I would have liked the opportunity to have interviewed him the way you are interviewing me.

Emma:  What taught you more about life – notable happiness or terrible suffering?

In a strange way, both as they are both great teachers and I’ve experienced large doses of each.  I only wish I was a faster learner so the suffering didn’t have to go on for as long as it did.

Emma:  When were you decidedly happiest and when were you easily the most unhappy?

The most difficult time in my life was the years when I was bulimic.  I felt as though I was watching life pass me by as I remained stuck in my obsessive-compulsive addictive behaviors.  It was a terrible time of feeling I was betraying myself on a daily basis and couldn’t stop, though I wanted to more than anything. Sadly that period lasted for about 22 years.  That’s an awfully long time to be so unhappy.

This period of my life is by far the happiest.  I have learned and experience daily the power of gratitude, friendship, humility, family and the gift of giving back.  I am so grateful for the many gifts I’ve been given – Daddy, N. and you, extended family and friendship.  I have so much love in my life.  I am extremely fortunate.  Gratitude encourages misery to withdraw.  People say it’s harder to talk about unhappiness, but I have found the opposite to be true.  Misery came easily to me. Happiness I’ve had to fight for and once I caught slivers of it, I wasn’t willing to let it go.

Emma chose this photo of me to accompany her interview

Emma chose this photo of me to accompany her interview (I figure since I chose photos of Emma throughout her childhood, it is only fair that she now choose the photographs posted on this blog.)

The Messiness of Blogging

Years ago I wrote about the difficulties involved in writing a balanced and yet honest depiction of life.  I just reread that post and my first response was to delete it.  But as I no longer do things on this blog without asking Emma, I asked her if she wanted me to remove it and others like it.  She wrote, “no.”  So I’m leaving it, though, for the record, if this were left entirely up to me, I would delete it, along with a great many others where I detail personal things about my daughter without thinking about how she might feel having such information made public.  To be honest, I would delete the first two and a half years of this blog, just wipe the slate clean and begin with the spring of 2012 when I began to become aware of Autistic people who were writing about their lives.  But this blog is not mine alone.  This blog is a group blog, written by three people, one of whom has their name featured on it, Emma.  (Emma has said she likes the name of the blog and does not want it changed.)

A blog is a curated version of life.  We tell what we are comfortable discussing, what we are aware of and understand at the time of writing.  But when writing about others, particularly family members, things get trickier.  Even a year ago I wrote things I am not comfortable with, but as Emma wrote a few weeks ago, “it’s important to show that times were difficult.  It is still not easy at all times.”  Emma wrote this regarding another project, but when I asked her if her statement applied to this blog too, she wrote, “Yes.”  

My dilemma in continuing to contribute to this blog concerns that difficult balancing act of writing about the things I am learning, processing and thinking about, while being respectful of other members of my family and not writing in a way that suggests I speak for them.  Even so, I am not always successful.  But more and more there’s a great deal I don’t write about.  If Emma is going through something that causes her pain, I no longer feel comfortable writing about it, even from my perspective unless she asks me to.  I argue that a certain amount of self censorship, particularly when done to protect the confidences and security of others, is not necessarily a bad thing.

The only time I’ve posted things that are personal and painful are when Emma has written, “Put this on the blog.”  Or when I’ve asked her, “What do you want to talk about?” And her response was, “I want to write a blog post.”  But these omissions, this version of life that I do feel comfortable enough to discuss here, cannot, by their very nature, give a true picture of our lives.  So for some, it may seem our lives are ideal, or some readers may mistakenly think we never struggle, or perhaps these posts give the impression that we live a pain-free life of nothing but joy and ease.

Blogging is an intimate and immediate form of writing.  Those of us who blog are far more available to those who read what we write than other people who write. Anyone can make comments and most bloggers, even those who do not or rarely respond to comments, read what commenters have to say.  It is part of what makes blogging unique, and to me anyway, particularly compelling and interesting.  Comments from others, whether they agree or not, are fascinating, often thought-provoking and some even make me reconsider what I believe or how I think about something.

Blogging is the reality TV version of writing.  But even so, there is more left on the editing room floor than gets seen.  It is the nature of the beast.  Life is far too complex and messy, particularly when it is four lives or five, if one counts our mischievous kitty, to capture in 800 words or less, even when posting Monday through Friday.

WhiteWaterRafting copy

Alone? Frightened? Worried?

“No one knows how to help us.”  This was what I once said to my husband.  It was many years ago.  So many, I no longer remember the year.  Along with that realization was this one – “We are in this alone.”  And while, at the time, that thought terrified me, it was the beginning of finding another way.  It was the moment when I realized all these people we were looking to for guidance, didn’t know what was best for our daughter, even when they believed they did.

In the beginning we were told how fortunate we were, our daughter was “mild” we were told and if we followed their advice – an aggressive implementation of ABA, Speech Therapy and Occupational Therapy – she would be in a regular classroom by the time she entered kindergarten.  She was still two years old when she was diagnosed and we knew nothing about autism.  We did as we were told.  We were assured she would “skyrocket.”  We fought to increase the hours of therapy, we went to the team meetings, we took notes, we learned how to “play” with her using ABA’s techniques, we monitored her and kept charts.  We filled notebooks with our observations and we waited for her to “skyrocket.”

When she turned three we enrolled her in an ABA based pre-school.  By the end of that school year I no longer believed all that I was being told.  The therapists were no longer assuring us she would “skyrocket.”  Now words like “red flag” were being used to describe her behavior.  She had “behaviors” and these were being pinpointed and noted with alarming frequency.  We were getting reports of non-compliance, an inability to “use her words” as though she was being defiant  and then she began to self-injure. No one understood why.  Everyone was baffled.

And now, so many years later, I look back on those years and it all seems so understandable.  They say hind sight is 20/20, that looking back we can easily understand that which was once incomprehensible.  I understand now.  We didn’t appreciate what was going on.  We didn’t think we understood our child, and for the most part we didn’t and we kept looking to others to explain her to us.  The explanations they gave us, we believed.  We thought, since we didn’t understand and they seemed sure that they did, they must be right.  It took several more years for me to realize they didn’t and they didn’t know how to help us or her either.  When the methods they believed in didn’t do what they believed should and would happen, they blamed us and they blamed her.

Emma continues to remind me that “regret is not needed” and she’s right.  I am working hard on that one.  I cannot describe someone else’s experience, I can only write about mine.  This was mine.  As the mother of a daughter who was once believed “mild” and later “moderate” and finally “moderate to severe” on autism’s vast spectrum, we have learned a great deal.  And while many may not derive any solace in what I’m about to say, I would have.  No one can predict what life holds for your two, three, four, five, six or seven-year old child.  No one can predict another’s future, there are too many variables.

That my daughter has some spoken language is, and was, the single biggest red herring for those who meet her.  It never occurred to us that all that speech therapy, focusing on spoken language, would ultimately be unhelpful.  I knew nothing of AAC  (Augmentative and Alternative Communication) devices or methods and as spoken language seemed to me to be the ideal, the idea of her using something else honestly never crossed my mind.  Why would I encourage her to use something else to communicate if she could speak?  When, after years of speech therapy focusing on spoken language, she still couldn’t have a conversation with us, our answer was to try more, push harder and it would come.

So many people ask what we would have done, knowing all we know now.  This is a question that is specific to my daughter, but I know there are other children who are similar as I’ve met so many of them.  I would not have waited so long to begin using other forms of communication.  In fact, this would have been the thing I would have concentrated on right away.  There is no evidence that using an AAC device will have a negative effect on spoken language acquisition, in fact there are studies showing the opposite is likely to be true.  Had my daughter been able to communicate at an earlier age, many things would have changed.  The most important one being that we would have understood much earlier all that she knew and understood.  This may strike some as a little thing, but I can assure you, had we realized this early on, had we believed this right away, it would have changed every single decision we then made.  Not to mention the massive reduction in our stress, anxiety and fear.

There is so much we are learning and still have to learn, but we are no longer alone.  We are surrounded by other parents, professionals, educators and, most importantly, people who share our daughter’s neurology, those who are Autistic and who continue to share their experiences with us so that we might better parent our Autistic daughter.  And of course, our daughter, Emma whose patience, love, wisdom and endless compassion is teaching us more than any.

 

One year after the diagnosis

One year after the diagnosis

The Battle…

“It’s all well and good for higher functioning people who have autism to talk about how unique and precious their lives are and how important it is for everyone to accept their differences, but for families who are dealing with low functioning individuals, this is not their experience.   Those families are in an ongoing battle.”  

The above is a version of a comment I’ve read countless times over the years.

Aside from the curious conflation of the first part of the sentence discussing Autistic people’s sense of themselves, to the last part, which discusses the family’s point of view, as though the “low functioning” individual is incapable of having a point of view, there is no point arguing with anyone about their lived experience. However, do not make your experience mine.  This is NOT my experience of my child.  This is NOT my family’s experience.  This is not the experience of many, many families I know.  And do not assume this is my daughter’s experience either.  Just because this is the way you view your child or sibling or relative or the person you know, does not mean that is their experience of the world or their family member’s experience.

I do not assume that because I choose to celebrate my daughter, every family and every Autistic person will agree or feel the same.  Nothing is as simple as any one-word descriptor.  The ongoing battle I find myself in is with the inaccurate information about autism and Autistic people.  The ongoing battle is not my daughter’s neurology, it’s the misperceptions people have that they then apply to my daughter.  The ongoing battle is not about her at all, it’s about functioning labels, what people continue to say and believe autism means, how people view disability, the stigma attached and how people fear, reject and punish what they do not understand.

That quote?  That is exactly what I am battling – the idea that because someone cannot use spoken language, they do not have an experience of the world, the misconception that if someone cannot interact with another person in a way the majority of the population can understand or recognize, it means they are less than, unworthy, and therefore excluded.  Exclusion is the battle.  Non-acceptance is the battle.  Intolerance is the battle.  Hatred is the battle.  Prejudice is the battle.  Discrimination is the battle.  Misinformation, inequality, superiority, arrogance, ignorance, and all the ways in which people then behave because they believe these things and all the things they tell themselves that lead to any of the above being acted upon, that’s the battle.

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An Argument Against Pathologizing Autism – What Others Had to Say

In yesterday’s blog post I asked for thoughts regarding the pathologizing language that dominates most conversations about autism and those who are Autistic.   I received some terrific responses both here, through email and on Emma’s Hope Book Facebook page.  I also asked Emma for her thoughts, which she very patiently gave me and generously said I could post here.

Emma wrote, “Deciding autism is a medical condition eases the minds of those who profit from it.”

A couple of great links were sent to things that have been written on the topic or related topics.  This, from the Zur Institute entitled:  DSM: Diagnosing for Status and Money, focusses on the DSM and argues, “Historically, many clinicians have been unaware that the DSM is more political than scientific, that there is little agreement among professionals regarding the meaning of vaguely defined terms, and that it includes only scant empirical data.”

Another link sent was this one, Time to let go of the medical model by Jarrod Marrinon, which does not speak specifically about autism, but is certainly still relevant.

And this link from Nick Walker’s blog, Five Steps Toward Autism Acceptance is terrific with the first step being, “De-pathologize autism and Autistic people.  This, in particular, stood out, “Blind people, Deaf people, and many other disabled people get the services and accommodations they need without being labeled as having mental disorders. We don’t have to call autism a disorder or a disease to acknowledge that Autistic people are disabled and can require accommodations.”

Nick’s words were similar to what Emma wrote when I asked, “What do you say to people who need support and assistance in their daily life?”

“Why should they have to fight anyone to receive the help they need to live?”

I said, “Well, in an ideal world they wouldn’t need to, but some say that there is only so much money and available resources, so people need to prove that they need the help more than others.  In effect they are being forced to compete for the money that’s been allocated.

Emma wrote, “This sounds like an excuse so that people who do not need help can feel better about how others are treated.”

David wrote, “The obsession with behavior as the be-all-end-all of autism “science” and “treatment” is a superficial distraction and a formula for spectacular failure in addressing the underlying realities – both impairments and abilities alike – which Autistics experience and must cope with every minute of every day. The temptation to pathologize and treat behavior for its own sake is dangerously misleading and utterly beside the point. That boilerplate approach to autism HAS GOT TO GO.”

Toddynho wrote, “why pathologizing autism is harmful”

Compare and contrast the life experiences of LGBT people in contexts where homosexuality is pathologized and in contexts where it is not.

“Are there any studies showing the direct links to pathology language and harm and abuse of the people who are being pathologized?”

To me, it’s self-evident and obvious that groups that are pathologized on the basis of their way of being are harmed and abused in consequence.

“If we do not pathologize autism how will the people who require assistance receive it?”

On a massive, massive scale, the adult autistics who require assistance are either receiving no assistance whatsoever, or the meager assistance being received is grossly inadequate if not downright harmful.”

Toddynho goes on to say, “What we have is a society that is pervasively pathological. Addressing the most acute societal pathologies will improve things for autistic people broadly much more and much faster than any kind of autism-specific “assistance” strategies ever will — and moreover will make things a lot better for most non-autistic people too.”

Gregg wrote, “Its a false logic really. There is nothing inherent to medical model understandings of Autism that enables support. Just the opposite really Its well documented that social model understandings enable supports that are far more useful to autistic people. I see no value in pathologizing Autism except to the industry that has been built up trying to take advantage of parents of Autistic kids.”

I believe the medical model, which is the model used in almost every university and by most autism professionals does tremendous damage to the very people they are intent on “helping”.  To repeat what Toddynho wrote, “…it’s self-evident and obvious that groups that are pathologized on the basis of their way of being are harmed and abused in consequence.”

“Do you think pathologizing language is harmful?” I asked Emma.

Emma wrote, “Justifying decisions to ignore those who need help is not reason to make people feel ashamed of their existence.  People need encouragement to do good.  There will always be some who cannot, but this is not a good reason for everyone else to stop helping each other.”

 

From: ukdisabilityhistorymonth.com

From: ukdisabilityhistorymonth.com