Tag Archives: Parenting

The Mean Voice

Posted on May 7, 2013 by | 22 comments

I have struggled with a mean voice in my head my entire life.  “You messed up,” “You can’t do anything right,” “You’re a failure”, “What were you thinking?” “Why did you do/say/think that?”  “How could you not have known?”  When I was young I thought I was the only one who had it.  I believed the voice.  I thought it spoke the truth.  I felt crushed by it.  It was a condemning voice and I thought it would help me become a better person if I listened to it.  I was wrong about that.  These days I don’t allow myself to believe it, but now and then I can’t help myself and those are the days when everything is harder.  Those are the days when the people I love will suffer because that voice isn’t content to stay internal for long.  No matter how hard I try, no matter how much I tell myself I’m not going to repeat those hurtful words to someone else, I end up doing so because self-hatred is never kept completely contained.  Those of us who struggle with self loathing tend to hurt others a great deal, which then feeds our self-loathing.

“Self knowledge avails us nothing.”  ~ Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous.

Awareness, acceptance, action.  These are the steps I know to take if I want to change my behavior.  These are the things I must do on a daily basis, sometimes hour by hour.  These are the things I stumble over, like giant boulders in my path.  Someone else yelling at me to stop listening to the voices does NOT help.  Someone else scolding me for having hurtful voices in my head only ADDS to my stress and the noise, it does not lessen it.  Awareness – I have to acknowledge I’m listening to the cruel voice.  Acceptance – I have to accept I’m in a dark place, that this is what is going on, that this is my reality in this moment, without judgement, without condemnation.  Breathe.   Action – this is the most difficult piece.  What actions can I take now that I’ve become aware and have accepted that this is where I am?  Often action has nothing to do with any of it.  For me action works best in the form of a small or big act of kindness. If I’m in self-pity or when I have tremendous ego, an anonymous act of kindness is by far the most helpful and centering thing I can do.

Feel the pain of the moment but do not be controlled by it.  Feel the anger/irritation/impatience, but do not allow it to take the lead.  Can I do this?  Can I just allow myself to be?  Can I reach out with love instead of anger?  If the answer in this moment is no, then can I just be silent, without turning my anger and frustration inward?  Can I just do nothing at all until this passes?  These things are easy to write about, but so much harder to practice.  And yet I must continue to pick myself up when I fall and practice what does not come naturally or easily because that other road is one I have been down.  I already know where it leads.

For an expanded upon and wonderful post on the mean voice please visit: hereirawr’s Balance Isn’t a Destination and Gray IS Gorgeous!

Road to hell

 

22 Comments

Posted in Addiction, Marriage, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , ,

Where There’s Anger There’s Fear

Posted on May 6, 2013 by | 19 comments

It’s taken me decades to figure out that whenever I am angry, fear is lurking.  All kinds of people talk about the association between anger and fear, but it was not a thought I was able to appreciate.  It’s still not the first thought I have when I am angry about something.  It’s not even the second thought.  In fact, I’m lucky if it’s something I can remember at all when I’m angry.  Yet, if I look back on all those years when I was so very frightened of my daughter’s diagnosis and what I assumed that meant for her future, I see how linked the two were.  But it was the fear that grabbed me by the throat and no matter what I did, it seemed unaffected and unwilling to let me go.  It was the fear that made itself known to me; the anger was far more subtle and insidious.

“When you sense a threat  your mind generates fear and anger.  The fear you generate is part of a flight response from your physiology. Anger is the emotional energy you generate for the fight against that perceived threat.  What can be confusing is that your mind creates fear and anger even when the threat is just imagined.” ~ Pathway to Happiness

I understood things like the above paragraph.  In a calm state of mind, it made perfect sense that my anger was rooted in tremendous fear, even if imagined.  What did the future hold for my daughter?  How was she going to get through life?  How would we be able to keep her safe?  How would she fend for herself?  Would she be able to fend for herself?  Who would take care of her once we were gone?  Fear.  Fear.  Fear and more fear.  And then, without even realizing it, I would find myself furious.  Enraged.  And my rage found the perfect target.  Autism.  Autism was what I was furious with.  Autism was what the problem was, so it stood to reason that if I could remove it, all would be well.  So this is what I set out to do.  Except that my daughter happened to be Autistic.  But if I didn’t say it that way I could continue to separate the two.  I could continue to tell myself I was fighting the autism and not her.  I could continue to believe that my anger with autism would not affect her.

“Anger is the natural emotional reaction to what the mind and imagination are doing.  The way to overcome anger is to change  how the mind imagines stories and how much you believe them.  When the mind imagines painful scenarios you naturally produce anger.  To reduce and eliminate the anger it is necessary to shift the stories that the mind imagines.” ~ Pathway to Happiness, Understanding Anger

That quote more than any other sums up exactly what happened.  I had to change the story that my mind was imagining.  Instead of thinking – my daughter is locked inside an autistic cage that I need to find the key to free her from – I had to examine everything I thought I believed and start from scratch.  I had to rethink how I viewed autism, my daughter and how the two were completely intertwined and one.  I had to dissect all my preconceived ideas about autism and Autistic people and what I thought that meant.  I had to be open to other ideas about it.

For me that began with reading books.  First books like Representing Autism by Stuart Murray, Unstrange Minds by Roy Richard Grinker and Autism and Representation Edited by Mark Osteen and then I found blogs written by Autistic people, see the Resources page on this blog.  From there I began developing relationships with Autistic adults, not just the occasional interaction, but real friendships.  People I have grown to love deeply.  I had to find people who were non-speaking, or spoke intermittently.  I had to find people who were obviously Autistic and couldn’t “pass”, I had to spend time with those people.  And what I found was that far from being miserable, these people were living their lives, doing things, had found purpose and meaning and were active in their communities.  The very things I had been told could not, would not be possible for my child.

“Between stimulus and response, there is a space. In that space lies our freedom and power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and freedom.” ~ Victor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning 

A and E_2185And so I found I had a choice.  I could choose to continue to live in fear of autism and all that people were telling me Autism meant or I could choose to embrace my Autistic child, learn, enjoy and let go of all that anger and fear as it came up, as it continues to come up.  Each time I feel fear and anger, and I do on a daily basis, I now know I have a choice.  I can fall into the fear and anger or I can step back from it, realizing it’s a mirage, realizing that as painful and real as it feels it is not a fact, it is a construct of my thinking and I can sit with it and not react to it.  Because my fear has me running away and my anger has me shouting, either action keeps me apart from others.  I have learned that the answer to both is to do something else.  And that is this – walk towards instead of away, speak lovingly instead of shouting and pushing away.

19 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autism "Awareness", Autism Acceptance

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

Rethinking Unhappiness

Posted on May 3, 2013 by | 43 comments

I was alerted to an article written by Dr. Michael Oberschneider entitled, Ask Dr. Mike: Expecting and Anxious About Autism.  In the piece he writes, “Some of the happiest parents I know (both personally and professionally) have children on the Autistic Spectrum.”  In the comments section people weighed in with their thoughts.   Many parents wrote of their outrage (and a few of their disbelief) that Dr. Mike suggest “happy” parents of Autistic children even exist.  They seemed to equate happiness with a lack of concern.  A number of parents suggested that Dr. Mike was simply wrong and refused to believe that he could actually know such parents.  One person went so far as to suggest he was trying to trump up more clients, which is an interesting idea, but the logic of that argument eludes me.

Before I go any further, I have to say this – there was a time, not so very long ago – when I was one of those parents who was incredulous that anyone could be “happy” and have an Autistic child.  I no longer feel that way and the reason is, I stopped trying to cure my child of herself.  I feel sad that this was my experience.  I wish it hadn’t been.  I know it negatively affected my daughter.  I know it negatively affected my entire family.  I know now that the depression I felt was because I believed I could cure her.  I was angry, I was depressed, I believed that no one could truly understand.  I felt alone and isolated in my sadness and rage.  I was engaged in a war only to realize I was fighting myself.  I know this now, but I didn’t then.  I wish I could hit the rewind button and do it over differently, knowing what I know now.  But I can’t.  I have to move forward.  In moving forward I am aware that I owe it to my daughter to make a living amends to her for my past mistakes.  Mistakes that I cannot know and will never know how badly they impacted her. Part of my living amends to her, beyond trying my best to be the best mother to her (presume competence) that I am capable of is to counter the negativity and fear that continues to swirl around the very mention of autism.

Today I am one of those happy parents Dr. Mike mentions.  I have two beautiful children, one who happens to be not autistic and one who happens to be Autistic.  And yes, there are times when I worry about both their futures.  There are times when one of them does something or is going through something and I find myself concerned.  Concern is one of those feelings, like worry, that actually does not help my child.  These are things I feel and it is up to me to figure out what to do about them.  Are there actions I need to take that will help my child get through whatever it is that is troubling them or causing problems?  Are those problems something I can control or are they things that require patience, compassion, love and support?  What can I do to accommodate my child so that they might better cope with whatever is going on?

The single biggest issue I confront repeatedly with having a child who is Autistic, with unreliable verbal language, is the misinformation, the fear, the misperceptions and the ignorance of those who meet her and what they then assume because of what they see.  Fear coupled with ignorance = prejudice.  We fear that which we do not know or understand.  We make judgments, we believe ourselves to be superior, we then behave accordingly.  None of this helps anyone.

It makes me sad that I was once so unhappy and that I attributed my unhappiness to my child.  I know now this was not true.  It wasn’t my child who made me so unhappy, it was my perception of her and what I believed that meant that caused my unhappiness.  I assumed things about her that I now know are not true.  They are not fact.  What is true, what is a fact is this:  My Autistic child is far more capable than most people give her credit for.  My autistic child does not use language the way most people expect.  Through a great deal of hard work and over the course of many years my daughter is learning to communicate through typing.  She has proven repeatedly that she is not only aware of what goes on around her, but she is extremely intelligent and capable.  At the moment she requires support to communicate, though we believe she will not require that level of support in the future.

My happiness or unhappiness has nothing to do with either of my children or my husband or my marriage.  My ability to feel joy is an inside job.  It takes work to excavate all those old beliefs, to throw everything you think you know and believe and start over.  I encourage anyone who is suffering and believes their suffering is directly the result of their child’s neurology to examine their beliefs.  Throw it all out.  It isn’t serving you and your suffering isn’t helping you help your child.  Isn’t that ultimately what all of this is about?  Aren’t we all trying to be the very best person we can each be?  Isn’t that what we hope and want to model for our children?  Isn’t that the point?

April 2013 – With my beautiful friend Lauri, another “happy” parent 

A & L

43 Comments

Posted in Autism, Parenting, presume competence

Tagged , , , , , ,

Love

Posted on May 1, 2013 by | 12 comments

For those who missed the fun, yesterday was the #AutismPositivity2013 Flashblog where people sent in thoughts about the theme “1,000 Ausome Things” in an effort to counter at least some of the ongoing negativity surrounding autism and those who are autistic.  All the posts have been compiled ‘here‘.  I helped tweet, share, google+ and pinned the posts as they came flooding in and WOW!  It was exhilarating to read so many words written by Autistic people, young and not so young, non-autistic parents, Autistic parents, siblings, cousins, educators and everything in between.  There were bullet points, numerical lists, stories, photos and even a couple of videos!

It was wonderful to see so many coming together over a shared idea.  A moment when the common goal was to rejoice.  A tiny moment when it wasn’t about anything other than what was AUSOME about a neurology we have come to call autism.  And it reminded me of something.  It reminded me of a time in my marriage when a therapist suggested Richard and I make a note every night, not of all that was wrong, or a list of our grievances, but a list of all the other had done right.  A list of all that was ‘good’.  These are subjective words, but we understood the goal was to look for the positive in the other.  And guess what?  It was the single best advice anyone ever gave us!  When we concentrated on that which the other was doing that was kind, took notice of the little gesture made, the loving glance, the dish that was put away, the trip to the store for the milk that no one had remembered to buy, all those little acts each person did, when those were noticed, they added up to something bigger.  They added up to an expression of love neither of us could have voiced.

That’s what yesterday’s Flashblog was about…  love.  Self love, love of another, hundreds of voices expressing love.

This image was created by the very talented Lori Miller Degtiarev of the blog A Quiet Week

Lori Miller Degtiarev

12 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autism Positivity, Marriage

Tagged , , , , ,

Watch Emma Fly!

Posted on April 26, 2013 by | 33 comments

Years ago Richard and I went to hear Temple Grandin speak (this was before the documentary about her had been made).  She had slides and gave a terrific talk about what it was like growing up as an Autistic child in a not autistic friendly world.  After the talk she went into the front entrance of the auditorium where she sat near a table displaying her latest book.  I went over to tell her how much I enjoyed reading her two previous books and to ask her if she had any suggestions for me regarding Emma’s inability to stay seated when on an airplane  prior to take off and again once we landed.  (This was something Em had a terrible time dealing with and would get a look of abject panic, before launching into a high volumed scream that had all the passengers covering their ears.  We were pretty desperate to find some way to help her cope.)

Temple said she was pretty sure there were sensory issues at work and gave some suggestions of things we might do to mitigate those.  I remember thinking that Temple in no way resembled my daughter and then made the assumption that Temple must have been far more able when she was my daughter’s age than my daughter currently was.  Whether this is actually true or not is something I cannot know, but a version of this thought process on my part is one I’ve repeated over the years on more than a few occasions.  So desperate to quell my fears and worries I have sought to find my daughter’s adult replica.  I have made the mistake of comparing an adult, possibly an adult who is now even in their 30’s, 40’s or even 50’s, and then drawn conclusions about what I imagine they were like when they were my daughter’s age.

Comparing Em to any adult has proven to be unhelpful to me, to my daughter and, I imagine to the person I am comparing her to, if they were aware I was doing it.  In addition, comparing a child to an adult is never going to give an accurate view of anything, there are too many variables involved.  And this kind of thinking completely ignores the fact that all human beings progress, evolve and change.  This is an obvious statement when applied to a non autistic child, but somehow I came to believe that my Autistic child was different.  I worried she would not progress.  I worried she would not be able to learn.  I worried because, in part anyway, we were given information about our Autistic child that has been proven to be not true.  We were given information that was in direct contrast to presuming competence.  Just as Emma no longer suffers when traveling in an airplane, she also now reads and writes and has, as of three days ago, mastered the complicated skill of a “catch” at her trapeze school.

Excuse me while I jump up and down while wiping away my tears of joy.  Emma wasn’t able to do a catch upon her first try or second or even third.  Em has been going to trapeze school for more than two years.  She also goes to gymnastics once a week where she has been working hard for almost three years strengthening her core muscles.  In the last month she is now able to do a cartwheel.  Emma began learning to type two and a half years ago.  She practices every day.  She practices reading too.  She practices and works really hard.  None of this has come easily or automatically, there is no “magic” involved, unless magic means being given the opportunity to work toward her strengths, to learn and practice and the belief that she can and will succeed.  Watch that video again, because all her hard work is paying off.  Watch Emma fly!

Bungee jumping barefoot – December 2012

photo

33 Comments

Posted in Autism, Parenting, presume competence

Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

Functioning Labels

Posted on April 25, 2013 by | 37 comments

When my daughter was two-years old she was diagnosed with PDD-NOS (Pervasive Developmental Disorder – Not Otherwise Specified).  People assured us she was “mild” and she would certainly be mainstreamed by kindergarten.  When she was not mainstreamed, people shrugged and suggested any number of things we might do to ensure she have that meteoric rise that everyone kept saying was just around the corner.  When that meteoric rise did not occur people stopped using the word mild and the word “autism” replaced the initials PDD-NOS on her IEP.

During those early years I didn’t spend much time considering or questioning functioning labels, what they really meant, how they were being used, other than to say when people inquired, that my daughter was “mild”.  And then we went to Em’s  neurologist where I happened to say something about how Emma was “mild” and the neurologist said, in a tone of poorly concealed shock, “Well no.  I wouldn’t say she was mild.”

“You wouldn’t?” I asked in surprise.  “Well what would you say?”

He looked away from me before answering, “I would say she was… moderate, but mild?  No.”

I was stunned.  The idea that my daughter was not “mildly autistic” had not occurred to me.  Those two words that I had clung to during those early years, were suddenly ripped from my grasp.  I stood there trying to remember to breathe.  And I remember that sinking feeling in my gut.  That feeling you feel when you see something massive barreling toward you and you know there’s no chance you’ll be able to get out of the way in time.  There have been a handful of defining moments during this crazy journey that began when I first heard the word autism uttered in reference to my young child and this moment at the neurologist’s was one of them.  At the time I couldn’t speak.  What was there to say?  My knowledge of functioning labels was almost non-existent and what I thought I knew about them caused me to make a whole series of assumptions I would later find were wrong, each and every one of them, completely, categorically, wrong.

It has taken me many, many years to deconstruct what people are attempting to say when they use functioning labels.  I have found the use of these labels is uniformly inaccurate, misguided and does far more harm than good.  I understand they serve as a short-hand for insurance companies, schools and various medical institutions, but I strongly believe we as a society need to re-examine the words we are applying to a great many people and the disservice these labels are doing.  Rather than labeling someone mild, moderate or severe we should be looking at the specific needs each person has, breaking those needs down into more specific language that would better serve them.

As an example (this is in an ideal world):

A eleven-year old Autistic girl who has some verbal language, but relies heavily on scripts should be encouraged and taught to type and/or write.  An iPad should be made available to her during school hours and in the home.  Pointing skills should be a priority and supportive typing techniques should be explored.

Teaching grade level material in an engaging way, using visual, auditory, tactile and kinesthetic teaching techniques is essential.

As this young girl shows a need for intense sensory input and craves an audience, as well as displays strong leadership qualities – drama, acting and theatre classes should be included in her curriculum.  It turns out she is also very musical and is a talented singer with excellent aptitudes for both melody and rhythm – therefore music should be incorporated into her day as well.

This same young girl has shown athletic abilities.  She has core weakness and sequencing issues, therefore gymnastics, swimming and track should be essential components of her day, etc.

I could go on and on here, but the point is, if this same young girl is presented simply as “moderately” autistic how does that help her receive the specific things she needs in order to flourish?  Does the label help her at all or does it suggest a level of incompetence?   Is she relegated to a special education classroom where she is taught “life skills” at the exclusion of all else?  What does this functioning label do to our expectations of her?  Do we “dumb down” her learning materials because we assume she cannot possible understand?  Just because she enjoys watching the same video over and over for years on end, do we assume this is an accurate gauge of intellectual capability or do we entertain the notion that this is a way to calm herself with something that is familiar?  How does the label help her parents understand their child? How does the label “moderate” help educational and medical establishments help her?  How does a “moderate” label directly influence the goals that are then listed on her IEP?

Functioning labels are more than just meaningless constructs; they are doing damage. I understand the arguments for why people feel strongly they are necessary, but I disagree.  Functioning labels need to be tossed aside.  None are being served by them.

Em during her gymnastics class

IMG_4248

Related Posts:

37 Comments

Posted in Autism, functioning labels, Parenting

Tagged , , , ,

What Is Autism?

Posted on April 24, 2013 by | 35 comments

Google that term and one is faced with a lengthy list of deficits.  The definitions of autism are cloaked in subjective language.  All the words used are in relation to non Autistic neurology: “severe impairment”, “life long developmental disorder”,  “social impairment” and one site went so far as to say, “A mental condition in which fantasy dominates over reality, as a symptom of schizophrenia and other disorders.”  None of these “definitions” have been helpful to me, personally, nor have I found them to be factually correct.  The most common definitions of autism out there have increased my fear and encouraged me to pursue therapies and treatments that have done far more harm than good.

People often ask, “so what is autism exactly?”  Over the years I’ve had a variety of responses, but like the definitions above, they always seemed inadequate, unhelpful and inaccurate.  So now, when I answer that question all I can come up with is this:  Autism is a type of neurology.   Short and sweet.  No judgment, no comparison, just six words.  It is a neurology.  It’s the best way I know of to describe what is often mired in negativity and judgment.

Comparing Autism to non autistic neurology has gotten me into a great deal of trouble over the years.  I have found it is important that I avoid doing that.  (I’m keeping this personal.  I speak only for myself and do not presume this is how others feel.)  For years I worried about my daughter’s ability to have friends.  If I believe the common definitions of autism, her ability to make friends is “impaired”.  Yet the impairment is less about her desire and attempts to have friends as it is about non Autistic neurology being out of sync with hers.  When Em was in Florida with her friend Henry, they had no problem hanging out together, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.  Just because they typed to each other and didn’t engage in endless verbal conversation, didn’t mean they didn’t have a blast together.

If I listened to and believed the definitions of autism, I might think my child couldn’t learn to read or write.  I would be wrong.   Not only has my daughter learned to read and write, she also has learned to type.  Because I no longer believe the common definitions regarding autism I do not limit what she should or shouldn’t do.  I do not limit her future with set ideas about her future capabilities.  I have found it helpful to disregard those organizations and people who insist that Autism is a dreadful “affliction” and compare rates of autism diagnosis with cancer.

So what is a longer definition of autism?

It’s a terrific question.  Finding an answer that is factual as well as helpful to me, has been difficult to find.  However there are a few who have done a terrific job defining autism and in doing so have also helped me, personally.  Autistic Self Advocacy Network (ASAN) defines Autism ‘here‘ and this post by Brenda, over at Mama Be Good, gives a great, comprehensive answer to the question and at the end includes her personal observations of her child and what it’s been like to parent an Autistic child.

So I ask you, how do you answer the question – What is Autism?

Em on her way back to Henry’s house – April 2013

Em pets the kitty

35 Comments

Posted in Autism, Parenting, prejudice

Tagged , , , , , ,

Accepting Ourselves So We Can Accept Others

Posted on April 23, 2013 by | 14 comments

Accepting myself has been an ongoing process and it began well before I became a parent and got married.  It began more than seventeen years ago when I was flailing about, bulimic, unable to stop using my substance of choice (food) the way a drug addict uses crack.  I have written about this period of my life before ‘here‘, ‘here‘, ‘here‘ and ‘here‘ so I won’t go into great detail again now.  Suffice it to say, I was out of control, scared, suicidal and I couldn’t stop binging and purging.  And then someone who had once been an active alcoholic and obese, with more than a hundred pound maintained weight loss, said to me, “What if you accept that this is where you are?”

I remember I looked at her in shock.  Even now, thinking back to her words I find I am holding my breath.  It was such a stunning statement.  Never had anyone suggested such a thing.  To me it suggested complete defeat.  It was blasphemous.  It was the single most heinous suggestion I’d ever heard.  I think I said something like, “Are you kidding?  What do you mean?”  I can no longer remember her exact words, but she said something like, “You just told me you can’t stop binging and throwing up.  You just said you are out of control.  You just gave me a detailed description of what you do, how completely depressed you are, how you’ve tried for twenty-two years to control yourself and yet here you are, still unable to.  What if you told yourself – okay.  This is where I am.  I am out of control.  I hate it.  I hate feeling this way.  I can’t stop.  I can’t stop hurting myself.  I can’t stop binging.  I can’t stop throwing up.  I can’t stop thinking about food.  I can’t stop abusing myself.  This is where I am.  I accept that I am here.  What if you did that?

I didn’t have an answer.  I couldn’t think.  I felt like I was being given a pop quiz I hadn’t studied for.  I stared at her and then she did the next thing that I could not understand or wrap my mind around.  She opened her arms in embrace and hugged me.  I remember my confusion, the feeling that this couldn’t be right, that she was unhinged, that the only thing that could save me from self-destruction was more self-criticism, more self-loathing and more self-recrimination.  But I also knew what she’d said made some sort of bizarre sense; for twenty-two years I’d been upping the self hate talk to no avail.  All that criticism I kept dumping on myself had gotten me exactly where I was – at a dead end.  So I took a deep breath, held onto her hand and took a metaphoric leap into the unknown.  The unknown of acceptance.

Just in case you’re wondering, it didn’t happen as quickly or as easily as this may sound.  That leap took years of practice, of gently reminding myself that whatever I was feeling, whatever I was doing, I could accept that in that moment I was where I was.  It took years and years of cultivating awareness, of being able to see when I took up the whip that I could also put it down again.  Kindness, compassion, gentle reminders and acceptance, this is the road I have tried to stay on.  As I said, this is very much a work in progress.  Some call it a ‘practice’ because ‘work’ sounds difficult.  My experience with acceptance has been that it is “work”.  It is not easy for me.  It does not come naturally.  I have stumbled along the way.  I continue to wander off at times, only to be brought back, gently, kindly and with compassion by others who are on the same path.  It takes gentle reminders, many nonjudgmental nudges to move back onto the path of acceptance.  But I have seen the light and know to follow it even when it grows dim.

My experience with acceptance regarding autism has followed a similar trajectory.  You might think – why didn’t she ‘get it’ right away?  Why did it take so long for her to remember that what had worked for herself would work with this too?   And the only answer I have is this – I forgot and I couldn’t see that they were connected.  I didn’t see the value in accepting autism because I didn’t see my child as Autistic.  I saw her as having been diagnosed with a word I feared and didn’t understand, and therefore was not going to accept.  Again it felt like defeat to accept.  It has only been a little over a year that I was able to make the connection.  And the thing that helped me make the connection came in the form of yet another person who accepted me and all my fear, guilt and shame with compassion.  Once I was able to make the connection, became aware of my lack of acceptance and allowed that to be, without adding criticism and judgement to it, was I finally able to begin the process of true acceptance.

Acceptance of ourselves and where we are in this moment opens us up to the wonder of all.

Pascal, Emma, Harvey & Henry typing to each other – April, 2013

H &E type

 

14 Comments

Posted in Addiction, Autism, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

The Complexity of Life and Change

Posted on April 22, 2013 by | 20 comments

*Emma gave me her permission to write about this.

Yesterday Em was having a tough time.  She has been talking about an indoor playground that closed some six years ago, expressing her upset that it’s now a store and asking that we build a new indoor playground exactly like it.  We have discussed the idea that places go out of business and that we can’t bring them back, we’ve talked about what is required to build an indoor playground, but that it will not be exactly like the one that closed.  We’ve discussed the concept of same and different.  We’ve gone over the preliminary steps needed to be taken in creating any sort of space.  Joe even thought she might like to build a model playground, complete with running water and electricity, but none of this has helped.  She remains very upset.  So much so that I began to feel certain her upset was not actually about this specific playground, but that this playground has come to symbolize loss.

“I want playground.  I want to build it.   Will take out the store and build a different playground has slides and a bouncy castle.”

I explained again that we couldn’t do that.  Em then repeated how she wanted to build a playground and then said, “Bertie kitty can’t eat pancakes.  Bertie kitty, the animal vet doctor, says no.  Might get sick.  Bertie kitty died.”

I nodded my head and said, “Bertie was old, Em.  He didn’t die from eating pancakes.  He died because he was very old.”

“I want to take it out!” Em pulled at the palate expander in her mouth and began to cry.

“I know you do, Em.  But we can’t take it out yet.  The orthodontist will take it out eventually.”

“Soon.  I want to take it out now.  I want to build it.  I want to build new playground.”

It’s easy for me to get caught up in the literalness of Emma’s words.  To get swept up in each upset individually, as it shows itself, veering from the closing of a playground, to the death of my cat, to the desire to have her palate expander removed.  If I take each of these concerns separately and at face value, I can quickly become lost in each one.  This is something I continually struggle with, not just with my daughter, but in life.  I take things pretty literally and often try to compartmentalize each thing so as not to get overwhelmed.  So in instances when Emma seems to be racing from one upsetting thought to the next, it isn’t my first thought to look for the common thread.  But I am fairly certain I’m correct about my interpretation of what’s going on here.  I think Emma is working through a number of difficult concepts that in her mind are all related.  The playground closing and being replaced by a store that holds no interest for her, the death of my elderly cat Bertie, whom she loved, and the palate expander that she dislikes and wishes would be removed.  I could be wrong, of course, but it seems to me they are all connected.  They all fall under the heading of permanence and impermanence, or death.

As Emma learns to communicate better through both typing and verbally, we become better at listening and understanding her, her anxieties are becoming more obvious to us.  As her communication skills increase, so does her obsessive compulsiveness, or so it seems to us.  It’s entirely possible that Em has always had this degree of anxiety, obsessiveness, coupled with compulsivity, but we are only now becoming aware of just how difficult it is and how often it overwhelms her.  Leaping from one upsetting scenario to the next is something I do too, particularly when I am tired.  With Emma it’s all about things that are impossible to have, things that are gone and won’t come back or, as is the case with the palate expander, about change, literally physical change as she looses the last of her baby teeth and her permanent teeth appear.

As we continue to support Emma with her typing, we have noticed she is becoming more verbal.  As she becomes more verbal she is expressing her anxieties, her concerns, as well as her desire to be heard.  The more we listen, the more she has to say.  Yesterday as we worked on her typing, I asked, “Em tell me two things you like doing and one thing that’s hard.”

Em typed, with my hand barely touching her forearm, “I like to bounce on the trampoline.  I like to bounce on the bouncy castle.  It is hard for me to work with mommy.  You could help them work with mommy.”

“Thank you for telling me that, Em.  Who should help me so it’s easier for you to work with me?”

“Pascal.”

Emma and Pascal take each other’s photographs  – April, 2013

*Pascal

20 Comments

Posted in Autism, Parenting, supported typing

Tagged , , , , , , , ,

The Practice of Life

Posted on April 18, 2013 by | 18 comments

Yesterday while working with Em (we are learning about American Indians) I had a moment of panic.  I thought, I have no idea what I’m doing here.  I don’t know how to teach this material.  I don’t know that she understands any of this.  

The more panicked I became, the more impatient I felt.  The more impatient I felt the more in touch with my anger I was.  When she randomly pointed to the wrong answer I said in a stern voice, “No!”  Emma doesn’t respond well to “No!”  I know this. But in that moment yesterday, I needed to take a break.  In that moment, neither of us were going to be well served by pushing ahead with the material.  It didn’t matter that I’d printed out more than a dozen photographs of various American Indians and the living structures different tribes used.  It didn’t matter that I’d prepared material to discuss how some planted and became farmers, while others fished and still others hunted buffalo.  None of it mattered because I was having feelings about how she should be able to learn it in the way I was teaching it, despite the fact that the way I was presenting the material was not the way I’ve been taught.

I was not, in that moment, able to practice patience and good teaching.  In addition to this, my thinking was my own worst enemy.  Whenever I begin to think in terms of fearful, projected thinking, and then ask questions such as, “what if she doesn’t understand this?”  or “why didn’t she know the answer to that question?”  I begin to feel impatient and then angry.  In that moment I was not able to see that I was asking the wrong questions.  In that moment I was not presuming competence in her ability to learn.  I know she can learn the material.  I have seen her learn all kinds of material.  This is an example of expectations, coupled with impatience and not teaching the material in the best possible way.

It is during moments like this that I need to take a break.  I know this.  It seems that this would be a fairly easy thing to recognize and then implement by saying something like.  “Oh, hey.  I need to take a break.  Let’s come back to this later.”  Or some other equally non-judgmental comment, but this isn’t easy for me nor does it come naturally.  I slide quickly into either self recrimination or fear and annoyance that she isn’t attending to the material (and me) in the way I would like.  *Breathe*  It’s okay.  You’re okay.  Just take a deep breath.  It’s all fine.  In moments such as this, it is vitally important that I take good care of myself so that I don’t do harm to those around me.  I’ve learned this.  I know this.  This is fact.

So I am writing all of this out here, not as a public flogging or because I’m seeking absolution, but as a gentle reminder to myself that the way I treat myself is the way I treat others.  It’s all practice.  My specific practice includes patience, remaining calm in the face of fear and annoyance.  Recognizing, without judgement, that I do not always behave the way I would ideally like.  Admitting and accepting that I am flawed.  And doing everything in my power to be the very best parent (and person) I can be.  I can’t rewind the tape of yesterday’s session, but I can acknowledge what happened and that I do have the tools to present the material differently this afternoon.

This lesson of patience and calm when my emotions are running in the red is one I have not yet mastered, but am working toward one day at a time.

contemplation

18 Comments

Posted in Autism, Education, Parenting

Tagged , , , ,

Some Thoughts on Accommodation

Posted on April 17, 2013 by | 15 comments

A year ago I did a crash landing into the world of bloggers, all of whom were Autistic.  I had been looking for them for years, but suddenly, or so it seemed to me, I found not one, not two, but dozens and dozens of blogs written by Autistic men and women in their 20’s, 30’s, 40’s and 50’s.  It was surreal because these people were writing about their lives, giving glimpses into what it is like to grow up and live in a world and society that does not “see” you, yet talks about you and perpetuates misinformation about you with little interest in verifying whether their interpretation is in fact correct.

Pretty quickly after my crash landing I found this ‘post‘ from the blog Radical Neurodivergence Speaking about attending an Autism conference where the keynote speaker said, “When one family member has autism, the whole family has autism”.  The blogger writes, “My autism is not about my parents or my siblings or my non autistic friends and extended family. It is my neurology. It is not theirs. No matter how much they listen to me, how much they try to understand, it is not about them. It’s a lot easier to protect the martyr mentality when you insist it’s about you, but that’s just not how it is. As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken. We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right. It isn’t even wrong. It’s so backwards there is not yet an adjective for it.”

Now remember, I was at the very beginning of finding actual people who were talking about their own neurology as opposed to ‘experts’ talking about their interpretation or ideas about a neurology they did not have.  I had to reread that paragraph before I could go on.  “As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken. We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right. It isn’t even wrong. It’s so backwards there is not yet an adjective for it.”

I had to get up and walk around because this concept, this simple, and now it was dawning on me, pretty obvious idea was not something I’d really considered before.  I had to sit down and think about this.  “As long as it’s considered to be our parents’ thing, though, the system will continue to be broken.”  And then I realized something.  I didn’t like what I realized, but I couldn’t tamp it down.  It kept springing back up into the forefront of my mind.  I realized by making autism and my daughter’s neurology about me, I would continue to feel sad and victimized by “it”.  “It” was this terrible thing that had happened to us. “It” being the operative word.  “It” wasn’t my daughter.  “It” was what we fought against.  And by then adding a judgment to my daughter’s neurology (it’s bad) I was limiting it even more and adding a layer of horror to it.  Without meaning to I was making things much, much worse for all of us.  Without knowing it, I was doing the opposite of accommodating “it” I was co-opting it and making it all about ME.

Now before people start saying things like – wait a second, autism DOES affect the whole family, or, but the siblings DO feel x,y and z – I need to state the obvious – of course an autism diagnosis affects the whole family, but affecting the family is different from saying, “When one family member has autism, the whole family has autism.”  That simply is not true.  The whole family does not “have” autism.  This is not FACT.  Insisting that it is fact when it is not, does not serve any of us, but mostly it is a massive disservice to my daughter and all who are Autistic.

When my father had his horseback riding accident I was nine years old.  It completely affected my outlook on life.  At the age of nine I considered death, hospitals, doctors, what it means to be physically disabled, in a way that my same age peers were probably not contemplating.  Yet I was not suddenly “disabled” because of his accident.  None would have suggested that.  I might have been helped had I seen a therapist to work through some of my fears and later phobias that resulted from his accident, but that is very different from co-opting his experience.  When my father was in a wheel chair, the entire family did not suddenly lose the use of their legs.  My father needed accommodation, ramps needed to be built inside our house where there were stairs, he needed assistance getting into and out of the swimming pool, but the rest of us continued to walk around, ride our bikes, play with our friends and live our lives.  Did my father’s accident affect me, well of course it did, but never would anyone have suggested that because of my father’s disability the entire family was therefore disabled.

“We keep having to fight for ownership of our own experiences, and that’s not right.”

Ownership.

We all need and want to be heard.  Parents want their experiences to be heard and acknowledged.  Siblings want their experiences heard and acknowledged.  But that should not be at the cost of our Autistic children.  ALL people deserve to have the accommodations they need.  Just as my father required ramps built in our house, my daughter needs support to communicate without the added pressure or guilt that she is causing the rest of us hardship.  We need to reframe the conversation.

More terrific posts from Radical Neurodivergence Speaking:

I shouldn’t have to beg

I’m on your kid’s side too

Autism and child abuse: Both for April. Oh IRONY.

More Toxic Lessons Learned

Em

15 Comments

Posted in Autism, Blogs By Autistics, Parenting

Tagged , , , ,

“Will She Be Okay?”

Posted on April 15, 2013 by | 31 comments

“Will she be okay?”  This was the question that went unanswered for the first nine years of my daughter’s life.  

“Will she be okay?” I asked every autism specialist, neurologist, pediatrician and anyone else who seemed vaguely knowledgable.  This question actually had almost nothing to do with the child I saw before me and everything to do with how I felt.  I so wanted reassurance.  I so wanted and needed someone to tell me she was going to be okay, whatever okay meant.  Whatever world “okay” occupied, I wanted to know, really know that my child was going to be embraced and fully in the “okay” of it all.  

“Will she be okay?”

Like the children’s story about the baby bird who’s fallen from its nest and asks all manner of creatures it meets “Are you my mother?” I desperately wanted someone to put their arm around me and say those seemingly magical and reassuring words – “Yes.  I promise.  She’s going to be just fine.”  But none did. So on I went, searching, trying every therapy, remedy, every crazy combination of vitamins, diets, homeopathy, naturopathy, healer, energy worker, cranial-sacral therapist, shaman, neurologist, developmental pediatrician, speech therapist, occupational therapist who held out the promise that all would be okay if only I did whatever it was they believed would make her “okay”. 

“Will she be okay?”  

When we finally ended our campaign to cure our daughter, our campaign to help her accelerated.  But this didn’t happen in a vacuum.  We had support.  And the support we were given came from other Autistic people. In retrospect, had I known my friend Ibby, I would not have asked “will she be okay?”  Had I met Tracy Thresher, Larry Bissonnette, Jamie Burke, Jennifer Seybert or any of the other people I’ve had the good fortune to physically meet, I would not have felt the need to ask repeatedly whether my daughter would be okay, because I would have known she already was.  That question would not have occurred to me to ask, because these people, many of whom do not speak or more often than not do not speak, or as in Ibby’s case speak, but when stressed, is unable to, are living their lives fully and they certainly know joy.  Each of them has grown up in a society that underestimated them.  All of them have been doubted and had to prove their intelligence over and over to those who are unwilling to see the evidence before them.   

“Will she be okay?”

We, as a society, must stop forcing people we deem different or less than to prove their worth.  We, as a society, must look inward and start asking ourselves, not “will my autistic child be okay?” but “what can we do to accommodate Autistic people so that all can flourish and be included?”

In the end, that’s all I really want for both my children.  I want them to feel a part of a society that supports them. 

“Will my child be okay?”

She IS okay.  Right now at this moment.  It’s up to the rest of us to recognize this.

Em singing “Clumsy” for Ibby and Emily last night

Em's performance 

31 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autism Acceptance, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

When Insights are Speculation

Posted on April 11, 2013 by | 14 comments

One of the things I’ve felt particularly confused by is why my daughter sometimes resists communicating.  My thinking has been – why would she resist doing the one thing that will help her get along in this world more than perhaps anything else?  The other day, I had a moment of clarity.  I came a step closer to “getting it”.  And now, I think I understand.  Not only do I think I understand, but I am able to identify and relate to that resistance, because, I realized, I do it too!  There are a number of things I resist doing, even while knowing that if I just did them I’d feel better and would be able to weather the vicissitudes of daily life a bit better.  I’d be happier, calmer, less anxious, and yet knowing this, intellectually understanding that this is true, does not make my resistance any less.

I know being mindful and in the present gives me clarity and a sense of calm, I do not otherwise have.  I know this, and yet find it extremely difficult to be completely present for more than moments at a time.  My daughter has little problem with this.  In fact, Emma is far more comfortable in the moment than anywhere else.  I remember when we were inundated with therapists coming and going during those early years of fear and panic.  Richard and I used to comment on the irony that Emma was completely present and in the here and now far more easily than we were and yet we were constantly encouraging her to talk about tomorrow or yesterday or any number of other topics that had little to do with NOW.    We were pushing her to move away from the bliss of this moment to join us in the fear and anxiety of the non-present moment, all for the sake of the larger picture, which in our minds was to have her join us in our world.  Even though our world was fraught with expectations, hopes, dreams, wishes and the inevitable disappointment those things often bring.

We used to joke that if we could bottle what Emma came to naturally we would have no cause for worry.  And that really is the crux of most conversations.  They are usually not about the here and now.  They are almost always about some other time, some other idea, some other person, some other concern that is not now.  And yet…  

I resist being in the present and Emma resists being pulled out of it.   And yet, we non-Autistics continue to insist our world is better, or superior even as many spend thousands of dollars going on spiritual retreats, reading books about meditation and going to workshops to teach us how to “sit”.  So the question I am now asking myself is this:  Can I find the grey area of encouraging Emma to communicate with me, something that is difficult for her and pulls her from the bliss of now, while giving her plenty of time to be present and just be?  And what about my own resistance?  Can I learn to meet Emma in her blissful place of now and resist the urge to go off in my mind to somewhere else?

Of course there’s always a danger in interpreting my daughter’s behavior as any one thing.  Her resistance, like mine, is probably made up of many things, and this could be just one reason.  Or I may have this entirely wrong and her resistance is about something that hasn’t even occurred to me.  Or perhaps it isn’t resistance at all and is something else or I may find, next time we type together and when I ask her why, she will tell me something I hadn’t considered.  And that’s the beauty of all of this, I can’t and don’t know until she tells me.  Until then it’s just speculation and me projecting my stuff onto her.   So that’s more for me to be aware of – seeing when and if I do that and understanding that I am.

Henry and I sharing a moment of laughter at Emma’s antics

H & A

14 Comments

Posted in Autism, communication, Parenting

Tagged , , , , , ,

What I Wish I’d Been Made Aware of When My Daughter Was Diagnosed With Autism

Posted on April 4, 2013 by | 127 comments

What follows are some of the things I wish I’d been told (and given) when we learned Emma was Autistic.  These are the things, in retrospect, I wish all those doctors, specialists, pediatricians, therapists and people who dedicate their lives and careers to autism had told me, but did not.  I believe our lives would have changed dramatically had we been told even a few of these things.  It is my hope that for those of you who may be at the beginning of your journey with an Autistic child, this list might help you avoid some of the many, many mistakes we made and a great deal of unnecessary pain.

1.  Seek out the work of Autistic people ~ most of the work I’ve listed was not available when my daughter was diagnosed, but it is now.  Take advantage of all that is out there, these people are leading the way.  If I had to choose just one thing that has had the single greatest impact on my life and the life of my daughter, it is these people.  My gratitude to all of them doesn’t come close to covering how I feel.  I have compiled an extensive list of blogs and books written by Autistic people as well as a couple of documentaries that are a MUST WATCH!   on the “Resources” page on this blog.  Please go take a look.

2. Autism is not a disease.  Read Don’t mourn for us by Jim Sinclair.  This may take some time for you to understand.  It’s okay.  Get the help and support you need so you can better help your child.  Try to think of autism in the same way you think about any groupings, a Mac and a PC, fiction, non-fiction, memoir and young adult, a shirt, a pair of pants, shoes and socks, a microwave and a gas heated oven.  Autistic, Neurotypical, Allistic, (or my personal favorite, coined by a friend) NT-NOS, we are all human beings.   Try not to judge one over another.  Judgment will not help you help your child.

3.  Presume Competence.  (This ‘post‘ helps explain what presuming competence means.)  If a therapy and/or professional does not approach your child with a presumption of competence, please consider finding one who does.  Tremendous long-term damage can come from not presuming competence.  Rethink how you view communication.  Listen to your child, not just to words, but to body language, facial expressions.  You may be surprised by the ways your child is communicating despite not being able to do so verbally.  Teach her to point with her index finger, first with support if needed and as time goes on, fade the support. Give her the appropriate tools and support so that she can learn to type or communicate by pointing to a letter board.    There are many wonderful iPad apps that can help with this.  Begin with sequencing games and colored tiles, or if she’s musical, notes.  Join them together to make patterns.  Show her first, have her mimic.

4.  Do not speak of or about your child as though they cannot and do not understand or hear you  (read Barb Rentenbach’s book for more on this).  This is something we did without thinking for years.  Sadly it is not the only regret I have, but one of many.  Still it is worth repeating.  Chances are your child can and does understand what you’re saying even if they do not show any signs that you recognize.

5.  Throw out everything you think you know and question everything.  There is a massive amount of misinformation/myths disguised as truth and fact regarding autism.  You may hear people say things like “They are in their own little world,” or “they are imprisoned behind their autism” these phrases are perhaps an accurate reflection of what non-Autistic people feel about the Autistic person in their life, but they serve to divide rather than unite and ultimately serve none of us. Be suspicious of anyone who says they know what causes autism or how to “treat” it.  Disregard any organization that describes autism and your child as tragic, an epidemic, a burden or any other word generally reserved for warfare.  If you read or hear something that causes you to feel fear, walk away, it is most likely inaccurate and intended to make you afraid.  None of us are able to help our children when we are terrified.  Fear can cause us to make decisions we will later regret.

6.  Set your child up to succeed.  My daughter is extremely sensitive to criticism.  Saying “No!” or criticizing her does not help her learn, but instead makes her feel badly about herself.  Encourage her with smiles and by asking her to try again.

7. Do not try to make your Autistic child behave like a non Autistic child, instead encourage your Autistic child to be the very best ______ (fill in your child’s name) they can be.  For more, read ‘this‘.

8.  Avoid comparing your child to any other child, Autistic or otherwise.  I have struggled with this one and continue to.  All I can say is, this is a work in progress. I hope one day to “know” this and refrain from doing it as it gets me into “compare and despair” thinking faster than anything else.  Emma is Emma.  She is best served when I remember this fact.

9. We parents are fallible.  We will make mistakes.  I’ve made dozens.  I wish I hadn’t made quite so many.  But I have.  If there is one thing I know without a doubt it is this – I will make mistakes, I am human.  I can admit my mistakes, tell my daughter how sorry I am, make a living amends to her by doing everything in my power not to repeat the mistake and continue to move forward without beating myself or anyone else up.  As my wise mother once said, “Show and tell your children over and over how much you love them, and one day they will forgive you.”

10. Get to know Autistic adults.  One of the single biggest misperceptions surrounding autism is that autism is only seen in children.  Autistic adults are often our best teachers and  many of them are leading the way so that our children’s lives might be better than their own.  These people are courageously and tirelessly pushing back against the deeply ingrained prejudices, biases and misperceptions that are rampant within our society.  (See #1)  It is my goal to honor these people who have beaten a path ahead of my daughter so that she may more easily live in this world that so often will not and does not accommodate her or give her what she needs to flourish.  They are speaking out, let’s all get behind them and give them the microphone so that more can hear what they are saying.  One day, the person holding that microphone might just be your child!

The year after Emma was diagnosed ~ 2005

Em - 2005

127 Comments

Posted in Autism, diagnosis, Parenting

Tagged , , , , ,

Autism Awareness?

Posted on April 3, 2013 by | 27 comments

It’s interesting to note that the word awareness, when paired with the verb “to be” as in – be aware, is easily visualized and thought of as, “beware” which dramatically changes the meaning.  It no longer is a word of benign information, but instead is a word of caution and fear.  I do not think this is a mistake.  I know it’s cynical of me, but I think Autism Speaks, the single largest organization involved in Autism and the creator of the “Autism Awareness” campaign, chose their wording carefully.  I’d like to think I’m giving them more credit than they deserve, but for a company that spends more on PR than they do on actually helping families and those who are Autistic, I don’t believe I am.

My awareness of autism has dramatically changed over the years.  It has changed because of the information I’ve found and been given.  In the beginning, my information came from books, autism organizations, various professionals, a couple of neurologists, our pediatrician; surprisingly the more “credentialed” the person was, the more likely they were to admit how little they actually knew about autism.  In retrospect this was my first real lesson in awareness – beware of organizations and those who believe they “know” all about autism, whether that is the cause or which specific methodologies, treatments or therapies your child will be best served by, because they do not know, despite how vehemently and persuasively they may speak.

As time went on, I became increasingly aware of my own misery.  The common misery supposedly shared by us parents, dominated the conversations surrounding autism.  I became fixated on the “fact” that autism was the cause of my misery and set about removing it from all our lives.  This is where awareness took me.  This was what I knew and understood.  But this is not the sort of awareness I want to be a part of.  This is not the kind of information I wish I’d gotten, nor is it the information I hope other parents and families will receive.  Those first few months after receiving the diagnosis are critical.  How we talk about autism and by extension our Autistic child changes all that we then do and where we focus our energies.

Autism did not cause me to be miserable.  I was concerned and I was scared, but my daughter’s neurology was factually not what frightened me, it was what I was being told about her neurology that terrified me.  Had someone said to me when we were still trying to get her out of diapers when she was seven years old – “it’s going to be okay, here are a couple of different things you can try, but remember most people do get out of diapers, eventually” I would have felt a little calmer.  Had someone said to us when our daughter was six years old, “read to her age appropriate material, teach her age appropriate lessons” I might have felt confused, I might have had a great many questions, but I wouldn’t have felt the fear I felt when we were informed she could not possibly be placed in a school with her same age peers.  Had someone said to us when we first received her diagnosis, “presume competence, she can and will learn, but she will learn at a different pace, she will learn differently than you might expect” I might have felt concern, but I would not have felt the kind of despair I felt when I questioned whether she was capable of learning at all.

If we want to have more awareness about Autism then let’s have it come from those who are actually Autistic.  Because if you are like me, these are the people who will change your views and shift your mind away from the “tragic” to the far more helpful information that might actually help you help your child.  The kind of information that opened our minds to different forms of communicating, different ways of learning, all those things that have actually aided us in helping our daughter.  Our judgments about her neurology and all it meant to us and her, did not help us do anything but feel more fearful and miserable.

Below is a small list of people I know and am in touch with.  I’ve provided a link to their blog, book(s) or film to each of their names.  I will feature more people who have helped me in my growing awareness during this month of April.  I’ve separated those who can speak, but depending on the circumstances lose speech, with those who mostly do not speak, but ALL communicate.  Want to become aware?  Read their words.

Non-Speaking Autistic:

Amy Sequenzia, Barb Rentenbach, Peyton Goddard, Emma, Tracy Thresher, Henry Frost, Tito Mukhopadhyay

Autistic:

Ibby Grace, Gareeth, Kassiane, Paula Durbin-Westby, Landon Bryce, Julia Bascom, E., Renee, Judy Endow, Michael Scott Monje Jr.

27 Comments

Posted in Autism, Autism "Awareness", Parenting

Tagged , , , , , ,