xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.: Fuck autism & other things that can fuck off, too

Tuesday, October 5, 2010

Fuck autism & other things that can fuck off, too

I am ON. EDGE. today. I got NO fucking sleep last night, for the reasons I blogged about last night, but then throw a clingy 5 year old into the mix and that was my night. I didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning. Both kids were in shitty moods and had to be dragged, kicking and screaming off to school. My fucking Blackberry is broken, it doesn't scroll up anymore, and I have back to back clients all week and no time to do anything about it. And THEN, to add insult to fucking INJURY, I heard on the radio earlier that the Avett Brothers were in San Francisco on Sunday for the Bluegrass festival. Why the FUCK did I not know about that???? This is the closest they've ever been to me since I started listening to them and I didn't even know it?? FUUUUCCCKKKKK!!!!!

Okay, anyway, my point is that I'm in need of a rant. My apologies in advance to the people I will no doubt piss off with what I'm about to say. You know I'm a nice person, generally supportive of everybody I know, right? Okay, just keep that in mind, then....

There are 2 things I can live the rest of my life without ever having to hear again:

1. "ALL kids do that!" and 2. "HA HA HA that sounds just like MY kid!"

I'm unclear on the motivation behind these words, when a parent of an NT kid, or a teacher who has no kids says them. I think maybe you're trying to make me feel more included in the world, but really, it just fucking pisses me off, because NO, not all kids do that, and I don't care how fucked up your NT kid happens to be, what I'm describing is nothing like what you've experienced. I'm sorry, maybe it's the way I explain it? I'm not really being descriptive enough, perhaps? That's probably it, so I can take the responsibility for that, but please stop trying to pretend that you know what it's like, because you don't know what it's like. Instead of trying to relate to what I'm saying, please just say something like "Shit, that fucking sucks," because that would actually be much better.

So, yesterday Child 1's teacher told me that he was emotional in class. She said she'd never seen him cry like that before and just wanted me to know. I like her. Have I mentioned that? I like her, she's great. There wasn't much I could do with that information except try to talk to him about it, but he didn't want to talk to me, so I let it go. Then this morning, he was really upset when it was time to leave; he was crying and hugging me. He said he was scared of school and that was all he said. He stopped crying eventually and then just completely shut down. I could see it in his face, his mind was at a BART station so that it wouldn't have to be at school. If I were able, I would have kept him home today; he doesn't fake these things, he really is afraid of something at school, but I have back to back clients today (who are apparently paying me to blog instead of work. heh heh heh) and am unable to stay home. (seriously, I'm also reconciling a bank statement while I type this. No really).

What makes this experience different from "any other kid," is that he's not just keeping it from me, whatever's going on, it's that he can't tell me. He doesn't have the skills to translate what's going on in his beautiful head into words that I'll understand. He knows this, so instead he tells me that he doesn't want to talk about it, and at the moment I didn't have time to sit him down and try to extract a word here and there so I just had to send him off to school without knowing. It's possible that later tonight when things are quiet, I might be able to get a one word description of whatever the problem is, but I can't count on that happening, it's more likely that he'll just cry a lot, and shut down, and try to distract me with other things, and I may never know what's going on.

Not knowing is the worst thing, because my mind, of course, goes to the worst places, in particular, that the other kids are being mean to him; making fun of him, whatever it is that mean kids do on the yard when there aren't any adults around, and there never are. I want to just stop by there at recess and see what's going on, but that's no guarantee that I'll learn anything, plus I have clients who are paying me to blog and don't have time today. Fuck autism. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, FUCK IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Nibor said...

That fucking sucks. All of it.

Nibor said...

(Except the blogging while you reconcile a bank statement. That's actually pretty cool.)

Kelly said...

It all sucks. Autism sucks. :( I'm sorry for what's happening - and I love you. *hugs*

TMWHickman said...

yep. It sucks sweaty donkey parts. *hugs*
Could Child 2 draw you a picture of what's wrong? Just a thought...

Unknown said...

Thanks guys. He's not much of a drawer, Tina, he still only does stick figures. But he seems better now, although I still have no idea what was going on :(

3rseduc / handsinthesoil said...

How the hell did I find your blog...I do not remember. Anyways, I like it. I mentioned my other blog in some other post but I have another blog. I don't know if it is readable by the public or super private or what but here goes....http://disorderlywanderlist.blogspot.com I think we have some similar wacky...whatevers..sorroy..I am tired. But yeah check it out if it lets you :)

Emily said...

God this breaks my heart. I know I'm a year late on this one but I just have to comment.

First, in response to "that sounds just like my kid": I am the lucky recipient of the grown-up version: "that sounds just like me".

And every time I hear it I smile politely and fight the urge to curl into a ball. No, it's NOT just like you. If it was just like you you'd be autistic too. You'd be years behind your peers too. You'd be worried about your future too.

But I don't say those things because I know they're trying to be supportive and inclusive. They're not *trying* to be dismissive, but they're being dismissive nonetheless. (If anyone said something like "oh everyone's like that" and I knew they weren't coming from a positive place with it, I'd probably rethink my polite smile, but I don't think I'd be able to tackle the issue in the moment, so I'm sure I'd walk away feeling horrible.)

I actually just encountered this today (complete with "I think everyone's on the spectrum") and am trying to script out how to explain how it comes across the next time I see this person. She's nice and understanding with a genuine interest (possibly career-wise even), so I feel like I can probably let her know, but I absolutely need to plan it out.

Second, in response to what you said about Child 1 not being *able* to tell you what was going on: I'm so happy you realize that that's the situation. Nobody realized that with me, and it sucked. (So now I think you're even more awesome and the creepy stranger facebook love is only going to increase.) I've come so far in only the last year in this regard, and I am so, so happy about that. I'm by no means completely there yet, but there has been so much progress. It is so intensely frustrating to not be there at all though, and you just seem to get that, so thank you.

Thirdly, in response to the situation with school, something similar happened with me in 7th grade and I still don't know how to explain it. I went the first day (new school), and my dad picked me up and asked me how it went. With a smile on my face I told him "I hate it." I was fighting the smile though - I knew it didn't match, but I couldn't help it. It was just coming out that way. And then for the next three days, I cried every morning and refused to go.

Like I said, I still don't know quite what happened, but I remember that I *could not* go to school. Something was absolutely, positively preventing me from going and bringing me to tears over it. And I remember how horrible that felt. So even though this is a year late, please give your son a hug for me, because sometimes it's pretty cool being autistic, but sometimes it really sucks.


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