I think I’ll kill myself, he says, and start over.
He looks at me with world-weary eyes.
I despise the people who have made him feel so wrong.
He watches with interest as friends throng around his younger brother.
They hang out. have fun. He’s not sure just how that’s done.
Cameron doesn’t do his work, his teacher tells his mom. He does the minimum, and when we ask for more, he refuses. The fact is, in the classroom? Your son does as he chooses.
His teachers want to increase his medication.
His Mom just wants him to get an education.
Did the teachers speak to Mrs. Einstein? Madam, your son spends too much time gazing at outer space. And when it comes to Mathematics, his work is a disgrace!
Or Leonardo’s Mom? Mrs. da Vinci? You’re Leo’s mom, right? Well, he doodles all day. Can’t keep his mind On his work. Draws ‘flying’ machines. And (ahem) did you know he sketches nude men?
Or the mother of Microsoft: Mrs. Gates, you’ll have to get a tutor to help Billy with his writing. He’s fighting it. Says he’s going to build some computer: He will speak and it will type. You must get his mind off this tripe, Mrs. G. Bring him back to earth or he’ll never be worth anything.
I wonder what Mrs. G. might have had to say, how she and the other mothers
might have responded. Cameron’s mom feels inadequate. Anxious for her son.
Sometimes despondent.
He can’t pretend. And anyway, it’s no use now.
Everyone knows he’s different somehow.
His mother tries to ease his pain. His father’s gone.
Last week he promised to come round. And didn’t.
Again.
Cameron has Asperger’s or PDD. It’s a condition he lives with.
But Cameron has voiced what he perceives to be another choice: I think I’ll kill myself, he said, and start this thing all over again.
He looks at me with world-weary eyes and I despise
the people who have made him feel this way
Because Cameron is my grandson and he’s
eight years old today.
Volunteer Services are a great way to prepare for work in the real world. Volunteering can be a sort of head start program for Aspies. Here’s why:
1. It gets you out of the house and interacting with people in a positive way that benefits you and your community.
2. It’s a non-threatening way of finding out what kind of work you like, what kind of hours you can handle, and how long you can stand to be part of a work place interaction.
3. If you don’t like it, you can quit. You will still give notice so that someone can cover your shifts, but if you find the co-workers snarky, or the clientele is too much for you to handle, well, no harm done.
4. You will learn to schedule your responsibilities. You have to make a commitment. You have to show up when you say you will. You have to be good at what you say you are good at. You have to know that you can get there (public transit, walking or bicycling) on your own.
5. You will learn to be reliable and punctual. You will get good references if you do,.
6. You will learn to work with other people of varying ages, professions and education levels. You will become part of a team. You will learn how to interact with them in a non-abrasive way.
7. You will learn to understand heirarchy–how people rank in an organization, and how they fit together.
8. You will learn to follow orders–to listen carefully, to ask questions if you don’t understand or are not sure of what is being asked of you, and to find out what special tools or equipment is to be used in the carrying out of these orders.
9. You will develop different skills, to varying degrees of competence. These skills do count on a resume.
10. You will experience limited rejection–most organizations are more than happy to greet new volunteers.
That is an interesting video! Jim Tanaka from the University of Victoria explains how he got into Autism studies and how they led to the development of facial recognition games for kids on the spectrum.
By the way, Aspies, are you looking for something to do? Would you like to participate in some current university research? If you live in B.C.s lower mainland, you’re in luck!
Subjects aka participants are being recruited for a joint SFU/UBC study into the difference in visual perception between those with and those without ASD.
The researchers are looking for adults, that is, people 18 and over, with an ASD diagnosis. They would also like the parent or caregiver to attend.
For more info on this study go to: http://autismlab.psyc.sfu.ca/event
4:19 a.m. I finally have a desk and chair in my den. No lights, but this is an improvement. For more than two weeks, my computer sat on a coffee table while I operated it from my perch on a needlepoint footstool.
More than a week passed before I found the right kitchen table. Delivery and assembly was another wait. I learned that one week of three meals a day in bed does not make one feel spoiled. Especially annoying? Toast crumbs. For someone who cannot stand the irritation of tags in her clothes, toast crumbs in bed were the equivalent of having my sheets strewn with gravel.
We lived two years in a furnished house and rather than pay storage for two years, we got rid of everything except my bookcases and our bed. Now the refurbishing begins.
Craig’s list is helpful. If nothing else, it gives me a good idea of what people are getting rid of and what value it has on the open market. I’ve also figured out that most of the items listed under ‘free stuff’? Really just need someone to take them to the dump.
There are still boxes in every room that need emptying. But I have nothing to empty them into–no cupboard or closet or shelves. So I am still shopping. We also have no sofa, just one chaise. This creates a sense of incompletion, of uncertainty that makes me anxious. But it’s getting better. Disorganization is unbearable, but I’m slowly pulling everything together.
When we began going to autism workshops and conferences, we found ourselves the subject of many sales pitches for the newest therapies that would produce miracles.
We also were sometimes pressured by parents in the local Autism Society to make a commitment to purchase a certain therapist’s services in order to “bring her to our community.” Enough parents had to participate in order to pay for her services to make it worth her while to come. Auditory integration training would cost $2,000 for a set number of therapy sessions. Music therapy was $100 an hour.
There were two problems with this.
First, we could not afford it. We were just scraping by as it was. Several options were presented – beg the money from our relatives, put it on a credit card, get a bank loan or a second mortgage on the house.
Second, which one of our children would we choose? Choosing them all was out of the question.Should we choose our gifted, disruptive autistic son or our quiet, multiply learning disabled autistic oldest daughter? Or our youngest, questionably autistic daughter? An impossible choice.
Therefore, we said no. As result, we were ostracized for not “participating for the good of all the children in the area.”
Instead, we chose to invent our own therapies out of ordinary life.
We listened to classical music in the house for our music therapy.
We were blessed by a piano teacher who was willing to try to teach my son. He enjoyed music, singing in tune with gusto. After a year, she noted that he had an aptitude for music. She taught him for 12 years. After that year, we ask her to teach our oldest daughter in order to improve her finger strength and coordination. I thought it might help her learn to hold a pencil. My youngest daughter wanted to do what her brother and sister did. This cost $10 a week per child – a pay as you go therapy.
We chose to take advantage of community subsidized speech and occupational therapy offered by Easter Seals and the Rehabilitation Hospital. These required small payments times three.
In spite of extended and persevering effort, learning to ride a bike did not happen. Instead, we found equestrian therapy – offered at a discount due to the generous donations of the community – also paying as we went. Our children were unable to ride a bike due to balance issues, but they were able to eventually learn to ride a horse independently.
These choices stretched us financially, sometimes heavily, but we made the sacrifices on a weekly, monthly basis.
Choices of “miracle therapies” with little proof of efficacy would have bankrupted us.
This weekend so many people asked me, What is Asperger’s? How can I tell if my son has it?
My book, “Unforgiving, Memoir of an Asperger Teen” took a 1st place Journey award, and prompted a lot of questions about the syndrome.
People with Asperger’s find it difficult to read body language, voice intonation, and facial expression. This creates difficulty communicating and interacting with other people.
Asperger’s doesn’t always affect individuals to the same degree, or in exactly the same manner, which is why it is said to be on the “autism spectrum”. That is, it is a highly functional and variable condition that alters how we relate to others, understand our community, and express ourselves.
Sometimes we feel hopelessly lost in a conversation. We cannot always determine what is sincere and what is merely light-hearted social bantering. Sometimes this is so isolating that we withdraw. We do not understand what is being said or in what context and therefore we pretend to be disinterested.
This makes us very bad at small talk, which is society’s established method of feeling each other out before going into deeper conversations. Small talk is a protective device that helps people locate each other in their social setting and their community, whether it’s school or work or something recreational.
People with Asperger’s tend to want to talk at a deeper level. They have trouble understanding this is not appropriate much of the time.
Make no mistake about it. Those children were NOT responsible for what happened to them. Neither were the adults. Adam Lanza was solely responsible.
But more and more we hear about school bullying, and as the grandparent of children with Asperger’s, I often hear first hand about bullying in schools.
My grandson was beat up at the ripe old age of six, with other children chanting, “kick him in the head! Kick him in the head!”
When he fought back, school officials forced him to apologize to the group of boys who attacked him.
This is not only the case for kids in the Autism spectrum. A young man with Tourette’s syndrome, told me “high school was hell.”
Another grandmother told me about her grandson, Carter** now eight, who has battled cancer since the age of two. Because he is bald most of the time, sometimes bloated from meds and treatments, he is often ostracized by his school mates.
Tiny in comparison to his tormentors, taunted and attacked, Carter fought back. School officials insisted he apologize to the bullies.
My grandson was fortunate. His mother decided that if things didn’t change for her son, he would most likely end up in the court system. So she spent every day at school with him, running intervention for him at recesses and lunch time, until he went into middle school. For most parents? This is not an option.
In high school, he lived in a densely populated area with 3 different high schools. When he screwed up socially so bad he hated to show up in class, he went anyway, encouraged by the fact that in the fall, he could change schools. He did. Three times.
For most children, this is not an option.
Most children, no matter how traumatized at school, do not go on a shooting rampage.
I cannot even imagine the emotional pain of being beaten up by your peers for 12 years with no relief in sight. Of having to show up every day in class feeling at best, out of place, and at worst, victimized, despised and rejected.
I don’t know if this was the case with Adam? Probably I am way off base. Reading Adam Langham’s blog on typical shooters, I believe bullying may or may not have been a factor in the situation.
As Shannon A. Thompson points out in her blog*, “Even though I personally believe we cannot logically understand the illogical (situations like this), I still think we can try and/or cope.”
There has to be some logic to these attacks and we have to figure it out before more children die.
Twenty-seven people dead today, mostly children. It is impossible to comprehend the horror of your small child being shot down like an animation in a video game.
Lack of meaningful involvement in both household and community routine.
Or perhaps it was none of the above.
Maybe it was just the comprehension of life as another ‘game’ and the perpetrator was just looking to place as high scorer.
Interesting how these shooters include suicide in the plan. I say ‘plan’ because what they do takes time and preparation: acquiring weaponry, ammunition. Choosing a day, time and place, along with point of entry. Not to mention psyching oneself up for the event.
Are there no warning signs? No behavioural clues?
Can’t anyone tell us what to look for?
Who should have known this was about to happen? Were his parents aware of his weapons cache? Did people know this man was a ticking time bomb?
Is it really true that nothing can be done until somebody gets hurt??
Last Sunday was my birthday. No, I’m not going to tell you what birthday, but it was a significant birthday.
My husband gave me the option to plan the big day. So I did. So Happens my birthday fell on a Sunday.
All weekend my husband was telling people, “my wife is the kind of wife other men dream about.”
So what did I plan? A weekend in a love nest hotel? A weekend cruise? A Las Vegas getaway?
Not me.
Just so happens the Seattle Seahawks were playing the Dallas Cowboys that day, and I bought two tickets. He’s a big fan. But so am I.
I love every aspect of the game; the downs, the penalties, the passing, the missed hits, the perfect throws, the blocking, tackling, kick-offs and runbacks.
And I married the man who can explain it all, who can call the plays and explain the flags, and who understands all the nuances of the game.
Watching the Seahawks demolish Romo’s team while the fans screamed and the crowds roared made my birthday.
I’m not sure if our seats were in what my husband refers to as the “nosebleed” section, but when the paratroopers sailed over the rim of the stadium roof, we could see the whites of their eyes.
We were there, and what a thrill! Now I ask you, is my love for football a symptom of Asperger’s? Or is it Just Me Being Me?
This review of my book, “Unforgiving” was emailed to me from Tara, a counsellor who worked for seven years with people from diverse backgrounds with different issues and challenges. She is now a life coach in Red Deer, Alberta.
I love how you somehow managed to bring a lightness to some very heavy topics.
When I say “lightness” I mean that you have found a way to talk about Asperger’s, sexual abuse, and even infidelity in a way that isn’t too overwhelming or emotional to the reader. At times I felt torn because I was enjoying your story and feeling connected to Margaret’s journey but then having to remind myself that the pain and turmoil was real.
I love how you bring the reader into your world and provide a very real and honest account of how a young girl experiences sexual abuse.
Asperger’s or not, how you captured Margaret’s thoughts and feelings are bang on. Not only in the pain and confusion but also in the reactions of family. So many kids could avoid re-victimization if family listened and believed their children.
You also provided a very real account of how someone with Asperger’s operates in the world, in terms of being left out, often misunderstood, and not being able to pick up the social cues that serves to engage and protect people.
The book shows how victims of sexual abuse naturally become sexualized which then acts like a magnet to bring in more sexual predators.
When I started reading this book I couldn’t stop. I found myself trying to hurry through my responsibilities of the day so I could get back to see what was next for Margaret Jean. Like you said, I was done in 2 days.
Thank-you so much for sharing your story with me, I am truly honoured.
Margaret Jean 