Tag Archives: high functioning

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

A Father’s Powerful & Extremely Personal Thoughts on Parenting

*This was what my wonderful husband, Richard, wrote as a comment on my post the other day.  I asked him if I could make it a post all on its own.  He gave me permission…

“Pain is inevitable, suffering is optional.”

There are plenty of difficulties in life. Parenting is hard, but “childering” is harder. Parents usually have some experience in navigating the complex social expectations of the world. Children must gain that experience with each passing day, hopefully with the guidance, support and unconditional love of parents who put their children’s needs ahead of their own.

But there are a lot of parents who aren’t like that. Mine for example. I was taught from birth that my obedience and subservience were more important than my own needs and desires, or personal considerations. When I didn’t do what I was told to do, or didn’t do it fast enough with a “good attitude” I was yelled at. Punished. Spanked. Slapped in the face. Called awful names. Verbally abused. Degraded. Humiliated. And that happened nearly every day of my life until I left home at the age of eighteen.

My parents constantly reminded me how difficult I was to cope with. How hard I made life for them. If I would only try harder, work harder, move faster, then their lives would be so much better. Their lives.

Me? I didn’t really matter.

I waited a long time before becoming a parent. For years I swore I would never have children, perhaps because I was afraid I might behave like my own parents. And no child deserved that. When I met Ariane, something shifted monumentally in me, and I was suddenly eager to be a dad. I was 40 years old. Maybe I was finally emotionally mature enough to handle the enormous responsibility of parenting. I was ready to put someone else’s needs ahead of my own. Because for me, that’s what parenting is about. Service. My children don’t exist to fulfill my expectations, or make me happy. They exist in order to experience life and fulfill their destinies.

It is indeed hard to be a parent. I empathize and sympathize with all the parents who feel overwhelmed, who don’t have the resources or support to cope well with these tremendous responsibilities. I know life is hard for you. But trust me, no matter how hard you think you have it, your children have it harder. They sense your frustration, your discontent, your fear and panic, your anger and rage, your sadness and depression and hopelessness.

And quite likely, they feel themselves to be responsible. Maybe they are even told they are responsible. They feel guilt and shame. They try harder to make you happy. To not be so upset with them. Because they have learned–deep, deep inside–that they are “the problem.”

I’m talking about all children here, not just autistic children. For autistic children, multiply that angst level by a thousand. If you are autistic, you live in a world where so many people are telling you that you are broken, that you need to be fixed, that you need to be trained, conditioned to “act normal.” If you like to spin around over and over, or bounce, or rock back and forth, you are given the message, sometimes spoken, sometimes not, that this is “wrong.” And therefore, by extension, there is “something wrong with you.”

If you are non-speaking, or have difficulty with speaking, or with other physical issues, life is even harder, because you are being told that there is something REALLY “wrong” with you. Meanwhile, you’re trying to live in a world of “talkers” that constantly underestimate your intelligence and capabilities, who treat you like babies, who give you dirty looks, or tease you, or bully you.

You are put to “work” when you’re only two or three years old, or as soon as it has been decided that something is “wrong” with you. Early Intervention is required, in order that you be “fixed” and/or “rescued.” This is not optional for you. It is mandatory. You have no choice in the matter. And if you can’t speak, you can’t even complain. So it begins. The endless conditioning. The continuous demand to stop being who you are and “fit in.”

And nearly the entire world of medicine and science and education is conspiring to maintain the status quo of the deficit model. Autism isn’t defined by all its wondrous capabilities, but by what is seen as lacking. Autism Speaks continuously fuels the bonfire of “wrongness” with every dollar they spend.

And it has to stop. It is wrong. It is life-killing and soul-killing. And if you, as a parent, can’t see that this is the reality your children are living with every second of every day, you need to open your eyes and ears and heart.

I so wish it hadn’t taken me so long to wake up. I so wish that I could erase all the damage I did to Emma, like subjecting her to the torture of ABA when she was only two years old. But I can’t change the past. I can’t take it back. What I can do, is speak the truth of what I’ve learned to whomever is willing to listen.

My Beautiful Husband and Daughter

Richard and Emma – 2011

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.

USA-in-chains-610x400

Emma Shines a Light on Functioning Labels

“People think I am troubled and can’t decide whether I am low functioning or can’t make sense of the words I say, but either way they are wrong.  So whatever label I am given it is meaningless.  Neither one assumes my intelligence.  This confuses many.  What does a functioning label do for the person it supposedly describes?

“I can’t talk the way I think.  Where is the label for that?

“Why am I punished with a label that only detracts and doesn’t tell the truth about me?”

Earlier this year Emma wrote (from Emma Discusses Functioning Labels):

“Functioning labels are insulting to me.  And people like me do not like to have others label us as though we were meat at the market.

“I do not think Autistics should be given stamps of disapproval.   How would you like to be graded all the time?

“Money makes non-autistic people have a higher functioning label, but it is not a great way to measure the worth of a person or their intellect.

“I am more than any one thing.

“Most people do not behave well under the kind of pressure Autistic people must endure all the time.  A label belongs on a piece of merchandise, not on a human being.

“Do you think you function at a higher level than other people?

“Maybe others would not agree with you.

“Let us all  do the best that we can and stop othering everyone we decide is less capable.”

2010 in Colorado

2010 in Colorado

Emma Recommends…

Someone asked Emma what she’d recommend they say in answer to the question, “how high functioning is your child?”

Emma wrote, “I recommend being patient with them and saying that functioning labels will almost always give the wrong idea to those who are trying to understand.”

I have thought about Emma’s response a great deal since she wrote it and asked her if it would be okay to write a bit more about this, specifically in relation to some of the issues Emma confronts on a daily basis.   Emma gave me permission.

“Red car, red truck, red car, red car, red car, red truck, red backpack, red car, red car, red car, red car, red truck, red van, red car…”  Emma said as we drove to the airport yesterday.

It is inaccurate to say Emma does not speak.  She does speak and her words are accurate in that we did pass all of those things in exactly the order she listed.  In fact, a few times when I protested because I did not see a red car pass us, after Emma said, “red car,” Emma will correct me and point to a parking lot father away that I had not noticed, where there was a red car.   If there is one thing I have come to understand, it is that my daughter is never wrong about such things.  If she says, “red sweater” it is not a fantasy, it is because she just saw someone wearing a red sweater, even if I didn’t see them or notice.

Emma has never lined up toys, but she lines up words.  To those of us new to all of this, it can seem strange, even bizarre, but it is her way of taking care of herself and is calming to her, please read more about Emma’s thoughts on self-care ‘here‘.  However to people who do not know Emma, they listen to her, try to engage her in conversation and then make assumptions about her intelligence based upon the list of words she utters.  If they try to engage in a conversation about the red car we just passed, Emma will typically ignore them and continue with her list.

When it comes to “functioning” labels, people who try to have a conversation with Emma will, typically, come to the conclusion she is “moderately” or “severely” autistic.  People take this to mean she is “low” functioning.  But if someone reads a post, like this ‘one’ that Emma wrote, pointing to one letter at a time on her stencil board, they may assume she is “high functioning” or they may come to some other conclusion, but they will not assume she is “severe”.

Until we were able to help Emma tell us what she was thinking, we had no idea what she was capable of.  A little over a year ago her school sent home “reading comprehension” work.  Emma was unable to do any of it.  At the time we tried a number of different things, but still Emma was unable to answer the questions as they were written and it was assumed she did not understand the simple story given to her.  We had no idea how completely wrong we were in our assumptions.  It was the same with the ongoing insistence that she read out loud and that when she could not, this also then meant that she was unable to read silently or at all.

The same thing happened with simple addition and subtraction.  It was assumed Emma could not do the math sheets being given, meanwhile she not only knew addition and subtraction, but knew multiplication and division, despite having never been formally taught either one.  These assumptions were repeated when it came to telling time and the concept of money or what a penny, nickel, dime or quarter were worth.  At her IEP meetings it was assumed these “concepts” were too abstract and difficult for her to comprehend.  None of us had any idea just how wrong we were.

I wrote about some of this ‘here‘ and ‘here‘.  Now, just over a year later I re-read those older posts and am so grateful we know better.  Knowing better has changed everything, but had someone told me just over a year ago that Emma would be writing the insightful, wise and incredibly philosophical posts for this blog that she has been recently, I would have been incredulous.  As I’ve said before, this is much more an example of my neurological limitations than it is of anything else.

“I recommend being patient with them and saying that functioning labels will almost always give the wrong idea to those who are trying to understand.”

Thank you Emma for being patient with us!

"Red Dress"

“Red Dress”

Emma Discusses Functioning Labels

I asked Emma what she thought of the functioning labels applied to Autistic people: mild, moderate, severe, or high functioning and low functioning.  What follows is her response.

“Functioning labels are insulting to me.  And people like me do not like to have others label us as though we were meat at the market.

“I do not think Autistics should be given stamps of disapproval.   How would you like to be graded all the time?

“Money makes people (*not autistic) have a higher functioning label, but it is not a great way to measure the worth of a person or their intellect.

“I am more than any one thing.

“Most people do not behave well under the kind of pressure Autistic people must endure all the time.  A label belongs on a piece of merchandise, not on a human being.

“Do you think you function at a higher level than other people?

“Maybe others would not agree with you.

“Let us all  do the best that we can and stop othering everyone we decide is less capable.”

*I asked Emma whether she meant all people or a particular group of people, she wrote “not autistic”.

Snowy Denver where we are currently snowed in and cannot leave...

Snowy Denver where we are currently snowed in and cannot leave…

Wretches and Jabberers – Defying Labels

A few months ago, my friend Ib, gently encouraged me to watch the documentary Wretches and Jabberers.  It’s available on Netflix and iTunes.  I was traveling at the time, Richard was in Colorado, I was in NYC.  In addition I can’t be bothered with the four different remote controls required to watch anything on our TV, let alone find a specific movie, put it in the queue, figure out which remote(s) to use, download the movie and watch it.  Yeah.  I know.  When I see a TV, anywhere (unless it’s already turned on) I automatically walk away.  It’s like a Pavlovian response at this point.  If I’m home alone or just with Em, the TV screen stays dark.  And I’m totally f*cked if Em wants to watch something and presses the wrong button by mistake.  My 12-year-old son, Nic, has been known to pat me on the head and say in condescending tones, “Aw… Mommy.  It’s okay.  Let me help you with that.”  Really.  This has actually happened.  Several times.   So, yes, it took me awhile before I finally was able to watch Wretches and Jabberers with Richard on Netflix.  I cried.  I laughed.  Wow, what a documentary!  I’ll wait here while you go to the above link and put it in your queue.

Larry Bissonnette and Tracy Thresher are predominantly nonverbal Autistics.  Larry is a painter, lives with his sister and was institutionalized as a child.  He hits himself in the head when frustrated.  He is echolaic.  Tracy is homeless. *Please read Tracy’s mom’s comment on this comment thread as my statement is incorrect.*   In the documentary he has places he is able to go for a few nights here and there, but nowhere he calls “home”.  Both Larry and Tracy communicate through facilitators by typing.  The documentary follows them as they travel all over the world meeting other nonverbal Autistics.  The film defies the accepted and common neurotypical views and assumptions about Autism and what it means to be Autistic.  Powerful, funny, poignant, it is essential viewing for all human beings, not just those interested in Autism, because it rattles our unexamined biases, our beliefs, our perceptions and everything we are being “told” about autism.

A terrific discussion took place in the comments on yesterday’s post.  The whole issue of mentorship and hf/lf (high functioning / low functioning) was brought up.  One person mentioned how “our functioning level should be based on how we treat our fellow humans not whether someone judges another’s way of communicating or perceiving the world as correct, or less or greater than another’s.”  Her remarks made me think about the neurotypical world.  What if each of us were given a functioning label?  What if our lives, our abilities were reduced to a set list of priorities.  Let’s say each of us was given a “critique” of our ability to meet that criteria?

If I was put under a similar magnifying glass as Autistics, it could be argued (of course all of this is subjective and that’s the point) I would fall into the moderately functioning category for neurotypicals depending on the set of agreed upon priorities.  I do not hold any position of power.  I write a blog for which I earn not a single cent.  I publish occasionally on the Huffington Post, again, I am not “employed” by them, I submit pieces, they publish them, no money is paid for those pieces.  I am mother to my two children, I do my best to care for them, but I do not “make money” for the privilege of having two children.  I have my own business, I make a decent living (for a great many years I did not and barely was able to pay my rent.)

I flounder in the face of tests.  I score poorly on most of them unless I have taken the time to study the material to ensure I am able to breeze through and even then I tend to make mistakes.  I freeze up when I feel nervous or stressed.  My vocabulary can be spotty, particularly when in stressful situations, I go off on tangents, I have difficulty writing a standard 5 paragraph essay.  I shut down completely in the face of mathematical word problems.  I use lots of adverbs, sometimes I change tenses in the middle of a sentence.  Sometimes it’s hard for me to stay on track.  I’m terrible at most cocktail parties.  My interest in cocktail conversation wanes after the first 5 minutes.  I have a passing interest in the weather, a favorite topic at such events.  I have special interests that I can go on and on and on about.  I cannot remember people’s names.  I’m marginally versed in social networking.  I dislike most TV.  I cannot stand any show with the word “housewives” in it.  I am extremely sensitive.  I make social faux pas (what is the plural of faux pas?) often.  I am not patient.  I am a terrible liar.  The list goes on and on.

We neurotypicals are not held to the same scrutiny our Autistic brothers and sisters are held to though.  We don’t have to worry that we will be slapped with a functioning label, which will be prominently placed on our resumes.  But what if we were?  I doubt we’d sit passively, without resistance and “accept” this kind of limited categorization.  I think many of us would protest vehemently.  I think many of us would rise up, organize protests, argue for our rights as human beings, we would advocate for ourselves, we would fight,  just as gays, African-Americans, Women and now…  Autistics are.

Emma – 2008