Trigger Warning for discussion of war, trauma, suicide, murder, illness. (no graphic images)
I don’t often blog as autism being the main subject of a post on this blog, unless related to learning or acceptance or perhaps linked to something I find might be useful to share.
I often worry about portraying myself or the kids in an incomplete way. I worry if I leave the challenges out we would be a sunshine and roses unrealistic picture of life on the spectrum. I worry if I stray too negatively I may perhaps not convey how happy we do happen to be. It’s difficult to know what to share, so often times I err on the side of “not enough info”
I can say without a doubt though, all total:
Nothing tragic happened today,
at least, it didn’t happen here.
I have heard it said that “Mothers of adolescents and adults with autism experience chronic stress comparable to combat soldiers.”
I read a aloud a book about different kinds of forests, and the book “Snail Trail,” by Ruth Brown. We also read “Mr. Brown Can Moo.”
Today I wiped some butts, worked on language goals, and let my son with pdd-nos help make dinner.
Today I did dishes, bathed a teenager and checked my aspie son’s writing assignment. It was very amusing. He’s a funny guy.
Today, my autistic son worked on geography and got out several puzzles.
Today, no one cried.
Today, no one died.
I’m betting the late Andrew Watson would have rather been reading stories or shampooing my sons’ heads than carrying the bodies of infants out of bombed buildings. I know his family would rather he was alive today.
Caring for my autistic children does NOT create the same stress as a soldier in combat.
I’ve heard autism compared to cancer.
Today, there was a lot of stimming and scripting. Today we spun and paced and hummed. Today there was hand flapping.
Today Patrick and I sang “Say hey (I love you) and danced in the living room.
No one needed chemotherapy today.
I’m betting my children’s great grandfather would have rather have been hanging with the kids than vomiting blood today.
Autism is not like cancer.
Autism Speaks refers to my children as “lost.”
Today, in just a bit,
I will need to go upstairs and help people get ready for bed. I’ll tuck them in, tell them goodnight, get my kisses and hugs and then I’ll check on the teen.
I’m betting the parents of Alice Gross, would rather have their child alive today, regardless of her neurological make up.
There are many lost children in this world. They are the missing and the dead.
Autism is not like a child being missing or murdered.
I have heard autism blamed for divorce, for abuse, for unthinkable crimes such as the attempted murder of Issy Stapleton by her own mother. I have heard the media, and so called advocates give her would be murderer pity and attention, portraying Issy as some sort of violent animal.
There will never be a day I use autism as an excuse to hurt, vilify, objectify, or otherwise misuse or abuse my kids.
Today, in court,
Issy’s father stated
“(Issy) is not a monster and she is not like a chimpanzee and she is not broken and she did not do anything wrong,” he said. “She is the victim, and thank God she is alive.”
I know that people are fond of metaphor so the rhetorical device is used often to try to sell emotional money begs, “awareness” campaigns and sensationalist talk shows.
If I have to combat anything, its the hate, generalizations, stereotype and ableism flung our direction. If there is a problem comparable to disease, its ignorance. If there is something missing, it is the inclusion of the autistic voice in decision making and representation.
For more thoughts of autism rhetoric please see:
I raise sons not tragedies. (part one a blog post from Quora)