I went offline for about 24 hours and came back to another true story about a mother murdering her Autistic child.

And right now, I can’t regurgitate the same things I’ve been saying every other time an Autistic child is murdered by his/her parent.

I just can’t.

What I can do.  What I want to do.  What I need to do is unequivocally deny the claim made by Dee Shepherd-Look regarding Autistic children.  In an interview with NBC News, she said that she was surprised that Autistic children are not murdered by parents more often and, “These children are really unable to be in a reciprocal relationship and the moms don’t really experience the love that comes back from a child — the bonding is mitigated,” she told NBC News. “That is one of the most difficult things for mothers.”

She’s an expert who runs an “education group for mothers of Autistic children.”

We don’t need more uneducated experts dangerously mis-educating parents and the general population about Autistic people.

Autistic people love.

Autistic people are perfectly capable of reciprocal relationships.

Take it from me.  I’m an actual expert on having reciprocal relationships with Autistic people.

I’m in many, in fact.  Loving, two way friendships with the most lovely people–Autistic people.

And I am in a loving relationship with my Autistic daughter.

My Autistic daughter loves.  That picture above?  That’s her loving her younger sister.

She lavishes love and affection those close to her.

She loves.  She loves.  She loves.

Don’t tell me she doesn’t love.

She LOVES.

Think Autistic people are incapable of loving?  That says more about you than it does about the people you’re mis-characterizing.

*** I don’t have the energy to devote to critiquing murder apologists.  But others have done a heartbreakingly wonderful job.  So if you’re inclined to say, “Walk in the mother’s shoes” after reading about a 6 year old being tossed 130 feet off a bridge into ice cold water by his mother?

First read this:
“Here, try on some of my shoes.”  by Radical Neurodivergence Speaking

Then read these which are specific to London’s murder:
“Not again…#Justice for London” by Kimberly Faith of Eccentricities and Introspection
“#JusticeForLondon” by Heather of Raising Rebel Souls
“.…I dare you.” by Michelle of Amazing Adventures Parenting Autistic Children
“Murder of London McCabe, Age 6” by Paula Durbin Westby
“Faces” by Lei of Autistic Times Two
“Another Child” by ischemgeek

#JusticeForLondon

The numbers used to analyze Autism Speaks’ spending were taken from its 2013 audited financial statements.  The report is available on the Autism Speaks website here.

So Autism Speaks finally released its audited financial statements.  I wish I could say that I am surprised by their brazen irresponsibility.

Instead of rehashing their sordid history, I’m just going to get tacks.

Because really? What can I say that hasn’t been said thousands of times over?

Read it and weep folks.

Lets start with the consolidated expenses shall we?

Family Services Grants & Awards:
Don’t forget, this is the ONLY portion of Autism Speaks expenditures which directly support Autistic people and their families.  A whopping 4% of Autism Speaks expenses were incurred directly supporting Autistic people and their families.

Did you get that?  Year after year the largest charitable organization purporting to serve Autistic people and their families thinks it it is acceptable to spend under 4% of its budget on directly supporting Autistic people.  And yes, I said “under 4% because I round up when calculating this using the consolidated expenses on their financial statement.

Advertising and donated media
I’m terrible at math.  But according to the 2012 consolidated financials, Autism Speaks spent $2,212,520 on advertising.  In 2013 it spent $52,229,994.

Is that not a 2,260% increase in budget?  That’s outrageous even without considering the relative pittance it has spent on providing meaningful supports to Autistic people and their families.

We’ve all seen the damage that Autism Speaks does to Autistic people and their families with their brand of “awareness” advertising.

Salaries, benefits, and payroll taxes
$23,300,191.  Need I say more?  We have already seen the salaries top executives are paid on previous 990 filings.  Autism Speaks has not published its 2013 990 to date.

It is also notable that there are several “related party transactions.”

And there are more related party transactions where institutions affiliated with members of the Autism Speaks Board of Directors and members of management received funding.

Science grants & awards
Science and grant awards spending was actually slightly less in 2013 than it was in 2012.  It went from $15,790,797 to $15,300,709.
Their science is scary in that it aims to eliminate Autistic people.  Of course they would continue to refer to them as a “crisis” and “puzzle pieces” in spite of being harshly criticized for their treatment of Autistic people.
This is from the mission statement on the 2013 Annual report they just released with the financial statement.

Autism Speaks continues to blatantly disregard Autistic people.  They also brazenly disregard the criticism they’ve received over their financial practices, treatment of Autistic people, and usage of negative rhetoric.

They lost two corporate sponsors in 2014–that we know of after intense pressure on the corporate sponsors to sever ties.  Both Panera Bread and Build-a Bear-Workshop lead the way in what must become a mass corporate disassociation from Autism Speaks.

Autism Speaks tells us year after year and time after time that in all things, they have no intention of changing.  It’s time to breath some life back into our grassroots #BoycottAutismSpeaks movement.

Some of you might have heard that I am trying out for the Autism Parenting Olympics team.  I think that I have a really good chance of standing on that podium or getting darn near close to it.

If I medal, I will be sure to get endorsements from all of the martyr mommies out there, so I am really excited about that.

But the real prize?  It is the honor of having a child who is Autistic enough for me to be able to speak with authority on the topic of effective parenting strategies.

I know that I will have to sacrifice a lot in order to be a contender–my child’s privacy, dignity, trust, and a little lotta bit of her humanity.  But it will be so worth it when the other parents pat me on my back and tell me that I really do have the hardest life of any parent because I will have proven that I have the most Autistic child in the Universe.  And beyond.

I have some definite strengths which will be easy and high scoring points.  My child is non-verbal.  Score BIG!  She needs around the clock support.  Score!

She has medical co-morbids like Epilepsy which will help me rack up some points.  I do need to work on using Autism and her co-morbid conditions interchangeably if I want to receive top marks.

She has a history of sleep disturbances but has been sleeping well lately.  With any luck, she will stop that so I can score the maximum sympathy points.

My biggest weakness is that poop smearing is not a problem for us.  However, she does enjoy smearing yogurt.  I wonder if I could parlay that into at least a few points if I don’t let on that I encourage this sensory exploration?

I’m training rigorously by reading lots of blogs written by previous medal winners and am even watching other contenders train on their blogs.  I have to admit, they set a really high bar…the level of exploitation is absolutely exceptional.

But I am confident in my ability to overcome this obstacle of being happy.  Especially if I throw  20+ hours of expensive abusive therapy into the mix.

Please wish me well on my road to Autism Olympic gold!

****All images in this post should be accessible and coded with alternative text.  Please let me know if you have difficulty.

Auditory processing refers to the way that sound is processed after it is heard. A person with Auditory Processing Disorder may have difficulty interpreting sounds they hear–often related to speech. The structure of the ear can be typical while the person experiences varying degrees of difficulty making sense of the sound.

I’ve been giving a lot of thought to raising happy and safe Autistic children.  Happy and safe children make parenting them a lot less stressful.  So I’m raising a topic that I think plays a major role in the lives of many Autistic children (and adults) unbeknownst to the parents.

It is important not just because it affects communication abilities but because it can lead to extreme frustration and other emotions which can result in unexplained behavior.

Auditory processing difficulties.  I don’t know why there is not more of a focus on this as a frequently occurring disability secondary to Autism.  In my experience it doesn’t even seem to be on the radar of most professionals.

I will share our diagnostic experience and then some really important things that Autistic adults shared with me about APD.

Special thanks to H for sharing his images.
Read more at Thirty Days of Autism.

images from “Dear Teacher: A letter from H” of Thirty Days of Autism

Our experience getting Evelyn diagnosed:

Evelyn “passed” her newborn hearing test.  When she was about three, we started to notice that she didn’t seem to hearing when we talked to her.  We wondered if she was experiencing hearing loss and had her tested again–even though we noted that she heard other noise.

She “passed” the screening again.  Her neurologist thought it was worth having an ABR hearing test.  This is done under sedation in young children and tests the way the hearing nerve responds to different sounds.  She “passed” that too.

images from “Dear Teacher: A letter from H” of Thirty Days of Autism

After she “passed” that, we were lead to believe that she was simply ignoring us.  That this was a behavior.  That it needed to be corrected…ABA was apparently the only way to do it.

Fast forward to last school year.  Evelyn was seven.  I went away for several days which I don’t normally do so it was a big deal.  When I came back, Maxine met me at the door and we had a loud greeting.  Evie was sitting on the couch playing with her ipad.  She didn’t even look up.  I started greeting her excitedly.

She didn’t look up until I bent down in front of her and put a hand on her knee.  She didn’t know I was there prior to that.  I know this because the moment I touched her, she lit up, threw herself at me, and didn’t let go for several minutes.

She wasn’t ignoring me.  She didn’t process what she heard.

Because I knew nothing of the possibility of auditory processing difficulties, I had a difficult time wrapping my brain around what was happening.  We knew she could hear because she had all of the tests.

Over the next several weeks, I began “testing” her.  I would offer her something desirable.  She wouldn’t respond without a visual cue.  These were words that I knew that she comprehended.

I raised the question at a school meeting.  One of the people on her team responded that the team agreed that Evie didn’t seem to process language.  I was floored.  How had this not come up?  How was she not receiving accommodations for this?  They told me that only a neurologist could diagnose her with “central auditory processing disorder.”

We went to her neuro.  The diagnosis process looked like this:  I told him what we’d experienced.  He said she has Central Auditory Processing Disorder.  He wrote a letter to school saying that she needed accommodation around this disability.

When I think of the ramifications of our failure to detect this disorder, I could cry.  Not just the ramifications on speech, language, and academics.  But the assumptions everyone made about the function of her behavior and all the ways Evie was offended by those assumptions.  This was not Evie being stubborn. This was Evie being disabled in a way that no one seemed to acknowledge as worthy of support.

Lots of Autistic adults were kind enough to share their experiences around APD with me.

As I mentioned, a person could have perfect structural hearing and still experience APD.
You can read Alex’s blog here.

So what happens?

Imagine trying to process what someone is saying when every other sound in the room is competing with that speech.  You are unable to block out the other sounds enough to comprehend the speech.

Read Chavisory’s post here.

It is important to note that auditory processing abilities are not static.  They can vary depending on the situation and day.

Amy blogs at Non-Speaking Autistic Speaking.

Sparrow blogs at Unstrange Mind.

I would feel so incredibly frustrated if people attributed manifestations of my disability to behavior.

Lei blogs at Autistic Times Two.

And then there are the people that presume that you’re incompetent.

Cynthia blogs at Musings of an Aspie.

Also from Cynthia’s post on the topic:

Every Autistic adult I spoke with seemed to experience some level of auditory processing difficulty.  It stands to reason that Autistic children experience the same.

Children might not have the ability to communicate this disability.  And it might be difficult for adults to pick up on because it is not necessarily constant.  And if the hearing tests come back “normal” and professionals don’t seem to be talking about it….

We are left with an unaccommodated ability which is often written off as behavioral issues.
And of course there is the frustration that is certain when a disability is not supported appropriately which could easily contribute to “behaviors.

Failure to diagnose and accommodate APD can lead not just to frustration, but to difficulty and/or failure to make academic progress.

Say nothing of the social implications.

Auditory Processing Disorder.  It is a thing for Autistic people–including kids.

Next post, I will talk about helpful coping strategies that Autistic adults shared with me.

pink square with a darker pink faded spirograph. The text reads: “When I tell you I cannot do something, presume that I am competent to understand my own limitations. I am not being lazy. I am not manipulating others into doing things for me. I have legitimate support needs. I have workarounds for most of the things I listed above. Slow, ponderous, time and spoon consuming workarounds, but workarounds nonetheless. But the truth of the matter is there are things I cannot do and I know that I cannot do them.” Kassiane blogs at timetolisten.blogspt.com

Today when I picked Evie up from school, her para educator said that Evie had “flopped” when they entered the grocery store on her community outing.  Evie’s para is new (to her) this year.  We had an interesting conversation about the incident which I think reflects a common problem in communicating with Autistic people.

Her para indicated that Evie doesn’t flop in the other grocery store that they go to.

I thought for a moment and said, that the grocery store they went to today is quite a bit brighter.  Meaning there are tons more fluorescent lights.  I explained that it was likely a sensory/neurological thing.

That Evie was communicating, “I can’t.”

Her para was very receptive to this explanation and communicated that she hadn’t thought about this as a possibility.  I am very grateful that she didn’t insist on writing the “flop” off to as a bratty protestation behavior as some educators have been prone to do in the past.

I explained to her that sometimes, it is pretty clear when Evie is communicating displeasure.

For instance, sometimes she will request ice cream.  If I tell her, “no” and offer her another cold choice like ice or a popsicle , sometimes she will “flop” in front of the freezer.  She currently does not have access to communication robust enough to argue like a speaking child might.  “Why not Mom?  It isn’t fair.  I really want ice cream” etc.  Her “flop” in this case, likely serves as that argument.

However, most of her flops communicate something else entirely.

They communicate, “I can’t” or “This hurts” or “This doesn’t feel good to my body.”

Like I suspect was  case in the grocery store today.

In my experience, educators are trained to overlook these communication possibilities.  Everything is a “protestation behavior.”

Autistic children aren’t trusted to say what they are and ARE NOT able to do.

The, “I can’t” can be especially hard to recognize because it isn’t static.  One day Evie might be able to go into that grocery store.  Another day, she might be tired, overstimulated, etc. and just “can’t.”

Evie doesn’t do much flopping when she is with me.  Usually, in fact, it is of the protestation variety (I believe it is healthy and appropriate for her to test boundaries and debate my, “no,” periodically so I am actually happy to see her do so).

I believe that there are multiple reasons that I see less flopping of the, “I can’t,” variety.
1.  I read this really great piece written by Kassiane (an Autistic adult) about part of presuming competence being not just about what she can do.

“When I tell you I cannot do something, presume that I am competent to understand my own limitations. I am not being lazy. I am not manipulating others into doing things for me. I have legitimate support needs. I have workarounds for most of the things I listed above. Slow, ponderous, time and spoon consuming workarounds, but workarounds nonetheless. But the truth of the matter is there are things I cannot do and I know that I cannot do them.”

I know Evie well enough–spend enough time with her– to pick up on her other “I can’t” communication before she gets to the flop phase.  Chances are, I would have picked up on the signs that Evie couldn’t deal with the grocery store before we got in and as such, I we wouldn’t have gone in.  I’m her mom, so a lot of that is also probably intuitive.

2.  I think it takes a long time to get to the place where reading the “I can’t” communication comes somewhat naturally.  As her mom, I’ve had the pleasure of spending most of her life with her.

3.  I trust Evie to make “I can’t” decisions.  Evie trusts me to honor those decisions.  As such, I think she pushes her own envelope when she is with me at times.  Probably because she knows that the moment she communicates, “I can’t” I will likely understand and swiftly respond.

4.  At home, there is a great deal less pressure on Evie.  We are more relaxed.  Schedules are flexible.  Etc.  So she is less likely to become over stimulated or fatigued than when she is at school.  In short, the environment is completely different.

Autistic kids are human.  They are capable of being grumpy.  Having bad days.  Testing boundaries.  Being stubborn for the sake of it.  Of course they are.

But it doesn’t happen, nearly, to the degree that educators and parents are trained to believe it does.

Making erroneous assumptions about communication is dangerous.  More importantly, perhaps, it erodes the possibility of building and/or maintaining trusting relationships which can have dire consequences for the child and for the educator/parent/who ever.

“I can’t” is a survival instinct.  Working to extinguish an Autistic child’s “I can’t” is a threat to his/her well-being.

Image is a of a pink earth. Text reads: “I wouldn’t change you for the world. I’d change the world for you.

Yesterday, I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed and saw that my friend, Jennifer–an Autistic activist, was upset by a blog post written by a popular blogger.  Basically, the post was calling out parents like me that don’t want to change our kids.  He says we are lying.  I wouldn’t care except for the fact that my  friend Heather refers to him as the “Prom King” of parents to Autistic kids because he has such a huge following and hero worshipers.

He relied on the tired old premise that those parents that don’t want to change their children do not have the same kind of Autistic child as he has.  Meaning “too high functioning.”

People like my daughter and Amy Sequenzia are routinely written off because they don’t speak and they need support in caring for themselves.  I’m sure that Evie and Amy (both have Epilepsy) would agree that some of the medical comorbids like Epilepsy, that are often mistakenly considered part of Autism, really do suck.  If I could take away my daughter’s Epilepsy? It would be gone in a New York minute.

But.  BUT.  Loving and accepting my Autistic child is not just something I say.  I’m not trying to convince you.  Or myself.

I am repeating my beautiful truth.

And I am hoping for your child and every other Autistic child that it will be your beautiful truth someday too.

You’re confused?  Still?   Let me help.  Again.  This is worth repeating over and over again.

I wouldn’t change my child does not mean I don’t want my child to learn and grow.
I fight for my child to be given the tools that she needs to develop and learn.  Don’t confuse my fight for her to be given the tools to access education with a desire for her to be neurotypical.  Don’t confuse my fight for her acceptance with a lack of interest in her educational progress.

Autism is not comorbid medical conditions.   Autism is not Epilepsy.  Autism is not sleep disturbances.  Autism is not gastrointestinal issues.  I like the way Nick defines Autism the best.  You can read his entire “What is Autism” article on his awesome blog, “NeurorCosmopolitanism.”

“Autism is a genetically-based human neurological variant. The complex set of interrelated characteristics that distinguish autistic neurology from non-autistic neurology is not yet fully understood, but current evidence indicates that the central distinction is that autistic brains are characterized by particularly high levels of synaptic connectivity and responsiveness. This tends to make the autistic individual’s subjective experience more intense and chaotic than that of non-autistic individuals: on both the sensorimotor and cognitive levels, the autistic mind tends to register more information, and the impact of each bit of information tends to be both stronger and less predictable.”

Wanting my child to progress is not the same thing as wanting her to be “typical.”  I want my child’s ability to communicate to progress.  I don’t care if she progresses by typing.  I don’t care if she progresses by using picture icons.  I don’t care if she begins to speak.  I don’t care if she begins to write messages in the sky–except that this is not an accessible communication tool for her.  She can progress towards goals that are different than the ones you have for your child.  And it is still progress.

I’m not acting so damn strong.  I am so damn strong.  For me, strong is knowing that I am a better parent when I use antidepressants to control my anxiety and help me sleep.  Strong is knowing that I cannot do this alone and not being afraid to ask for help.  Strong is respecting my child’s privacy and reaching out privately to those that can help me with challenges.

We don’t have “horror stories” involving Autism.  We have challenges that we work through.  We have ups.  We have downs.  We have successes and failures and all of the stuff that comes with each.  We have horror stories about how my child is treated.  Oh yes.  And we have horror stories about the ways that my words are twisted and misconstrued and taken out of context when I say I don’t want to change my child.  Yep.  Yep.

I’m not fighting insurance companies for more coverage or more services.   It is mandatory that insurance cover ABA services here in Vermont.  WE DO NOT USE IT because we wouldn’t change a thing about our child.

I wouldn’t change a thing about my child.  You don’t have to believe me for it to be true.

a school age child wearing a green hoody and pink and white striped pants pulls an aqua colored backpack on wheels up a driveway covered in leaves.

In addition to being Autistic, Evie is physically disabled.  Because of this, I’m in the habit of doing things for her because there are a lot of physical things that she does not have the current ability to do. Unfortunately, this habit has led me to do things for her that she CAN do.

I think I do it because it is often faster or easier in the moment.  Or I worry that she will injure herself.

Over the last week or so, Evie has been sending me a really clear message.

She has been capable of pulling her backpack for several years.  She has been pulling it from her classroom to meet me when I pick her up at school for years.  Up until pretty recently, she would drop it when she saw me.  I would think, “she is tired, I will just do it for her.”

I never gave her the opportunity to pull it into school in the morning.  I just did it.  Because again, easier in the moment.

And if I am honest with myself, which is painful sometimes, because sometimes I don’t respect her physical capabilities.  Probably more like often than sometimes.  And probably more like capabilities than physical capabilities.

Since the beginning of this school year, our hands have met at the handle of her backpack more times than I can count.  She’d usually yield to me, and I would pull that backpack for her without thought to what I was telling her with this act.

About a week ago, she’d had enough.  Her hand firmly grasped the handle of the backpack–and she communicated her insistence that she would be pulling the backpack with one hand and holding my hand with the other.

A few days after this, she started dropping my hand after a second.  And then pushing it away when I initiated hand holding.  I had a few moments of panic at school.  We were, after all, walking on a sidewalk in the school parking lot.  I would have to stop myself from forcing her to hold my hand because in my head, I was thinking, “She cannot keep herself safe.”

I make a big deal about the presumption of her competence.  But when it comes to her physical competence, I’ve screwed up.  Big.  I give her more support than she needs… or wants.  I forget that all kids get hurt.  Getting hurt helps one learn about safety  The reality is that no one has interfered with her acquisition of safety skills than me.  My instinct to protect her, may keep her safe in the moment, but in the long run it is to her detriment.

Over the last couple of days, when Evie is pulling her backpack, she is not letting it go.  The side door of our garage is a big step up and down.  She is not capable, right now, of both lifting her backpack and navigating the step.  But she will not let go and let me lift it over for her.

She holds onto the handle with one hand, grasps the door frame with the other, steps over the threshold and then yanks that backpack over.  She pulls the backpack up the ramp and into the house and doesn’t drop it until she reaches her chosen destination.

Even when she is not going to school, Evie has taken to bringing her backpack when we leave the house.  And now she wants it in the backseat with her where she holds onto the handle during car rides.

The backpack may seem like a small thing.  And you might be thinking, “this lady just wrote a whole bunch about her kid pulling her own backpack.  Really?”  I’ve come to see her backpack as a symbol of her desire and need to become independent.  I think she has too.

As much as I would like to think that I nurture a sense of independence in Evie, the truth is that I’ve put my convenience and my often unreasonable fear of her getting injured ahead of her need to gain the skills which will allow her to achieve independence.

I have failed to presume competence in this way.  Failed to recognize that Evie is capable of communicating when she does and does not need my support.  It is my job to give her opportunities to grow and learn and develop.  Even if that means a scraped knee or needing to take a few extra minutes to accomplish little things like pulling a backpack into school.

Evie overcomes unfathomable obstacles every day.  The energy she puts into gaining new skills is astounding.  She shouldn’t have to fight anyone, let alone me, to practice those skills.  To appreciate the confidence that self-sufficiency brings.

I’m so proud of her for advocating for herself.  She is determined.  Fierce.  Awesome.

Love explosions.

image is the yellow–the sun rising over the earth. the text reads: “look closely at the present you are constructing. It should look like the future you are dreaming.” Alice Walker

This is for you.

I read this article this morning in New York Magazine.  And I can’t think of any other way to describe the emotions it provoked than deflated.  Deflated because of so many things.  But mostly because of the way that Issy’s privacy and humanity continue to be disregarded.

No matter how you feel about the shape that discussions take around Kelli Stapleton, I can’t help but believe that most people would agree that it is not okay to continue to publicly label Issy as violent.  That Issy is defenseless.  That she is not being given a choice or a say.  That it is not okay to give this label to a child who will wear it for the rest of her life.  That this portrait of Issy will color everything she does now and forever.

This is for you if you are not Kelli Stapleton.

You are not Kelli Stapleton even if you’ve gotten all the way to the end of your rope and NOT hurt your child.  You are not Kelli Stapleton if something–anything–made you stop.

This is for you if you’re a parent or caregiver of an Autistic child and you need help.  No matter where on that rope you are.

I cannot and will not say that discussions about filicide have any place in talking about what parents need.

I cannot and will not say that filicide is a possible outcome for a parent that is just stressed out beyond what most people think is possible.  For a parent that is stressed out and mentally ill.  I maintain that there are other things at play when a parent commits filicide.  I know that others disagree.

But frankly, I’m so worn out from the circles we go around when discussing these differences.  And I feel like I have nothing more, at this point, to productively contribute to that conversation.

___________________________________
That’s the line.  This is me trying to move the conversation forward.  Trying to move my own mind beyond that which I can’t think about anymore.  This is me wanting Autistic kids and their families be happy.

I want to open up a conversation about how to raise happy Autistic children.  I want to open up a conversation about how to be a happy (mostly) parent to an Autistic child.  I don’t want to talk about filicide or Kelli or Issy anymore because I can’t.  So for now, I will leave that to other disability activists.

So this is for you if you’re interested in discussing change without ^^^ that tragedy or the others like it.

This is for you if you are the parent of an Autistic child and you need help.

I KNOW that all parenting is hard.  I also know that raising an Autistic child presents a unique set of challenges.  I know that there is very little support from professionals and schools that truly helps Autistic kids and their parents to thrive.

I KNOW that the lion’s share of what we are told we need to do to successfully raise an Autistic child is not helpful at best.  In fact, it is often harmful to  Autistic kids and their families.

I know how hard it is to say, “no” to all of that well-intended but misguided advice.  I know how hard it is to say, “No, Ms. Expert.  You actually have it wrong here.  I know you have a million degrees and certificates declaring your prowess, but you just have it wrong.”

I know that as parents we are lead to believe that there is but one way of doing it right.  And there is shaming and guilt when we dare to question the accepted protocols.

But clearly.  Something is wrong with what is being prescribed as “treatment” for Autism.  It isn’t working.  If it were working, we wouldn’t be seeing miserable Autistic kids and parents to the degree that we are.

My god, the things we consider or do subject our Autistic children to… and the money we pay in the hopes of helping Autistic kids find a way to be happy.  Can we not consider some very basic things that don’t cost us anything but time and a little patience as we transition to a new way of thinking and a new way of parenting?

This is for you if you are the parent of an Autistic child and you want to talk about raising a safe and happy Autistic child and you are ready to at least consider an alternative to what is so clearly NOT helping most families.

If you’re willing to consider some of the parenting strategies that work for me and most of the other generally happy parents that I know?  I want to talk talk to you.  I want to help you.  If you don’t want to talk to me because you don’t like me or my style, I want to put you in touch with someone that is more suited to your personality.

I cannot and will not be of any help to those that are only willing to consider ABA therapy as the answer because I believe, based on personal experience, that it is a major contributor to the problems that Autistic children and parents face .  But if you’re willing to think outside of ABA, I want to talk to you about what you feel you need as a family to get your head above water.

This is for you if you need help.  If your child needs help.

This is for you if you CAN help and contribute productively to the conversation.

This is for you if you share my heartfelt desire to see thriving Autistic kids and thriving families.

Comments are open but will be moderated. On this thread, I will not post any comment which refers to Issy or Kelli.  Whether I agree with the comment or not.  If you have a question or comment which is private–please post it anonymously.

Ask/Comment freely but know that I will edit comments to keep them in accordance with my convictions about respectful language.

Let’s talk…

“Caregiver burnout” caries the implication that the person being cared for is somehow culpable. It also leaves others with the impression that this state of emotional distress is inevitable when you have an Autistic family member

I dislike the term “caregiver burnout.”  To me, it carries a very negative and connotation about the person being cared for.  It also seems to imply some sort of culpability on the person under care which makes me super uncomfortable in a way that I cannot articulate.

It makes me so sad to see people using this term to describe themselves and all that it implies about their Autistic children.  And families.  It makes me sad that these stories of hardship dominate the conversations about Autism because it gives the impression that there is no alternative to this way of life–to this emotional state of being when you’ve got an Autistic family member.

The media isn’t interested in shining a light on those families, families like mine, who have found a way to thrive and be happy.  Content isn’t sexy.  Happy isn’t sexy. Tragedy and misery are.

The voices of happy families get drowned out by the voices of those in the sexy depths of despair.  As such, a real disservice is done to Autistic people and their families because they don’t get to see that happiness is very possibly well within reach.

Some people say that I’m not “real.”  That I’m not “honest.”  That I try to hide the realities of having an Autistic child.  While I try to be loyal to my child’s expectation of privacy and certainly don’t share every challenge we face as a family, I am 100% truthful when I say that we are, in general, pretty darn happy.  So I feel that I can share, with some confidence, some of the things that I believe help us maintain this state of well being.

Even if I am shouting into a void.  Or into a crowd of people that aren’t ready/willing to open the door to a different way of doing things.  I say to those parents on the edge, those crumbling and broken, “What do you have to lose by trying?”

Therapy/Intervention:
You don’t have to do everything that the experts recommend or make claims about “working.”  I know that parents need to come to terms with a tremendous amount of shaming that comes with turning away from accepted Autism “treatment” protocols.

We stopped doing therapy outside of school hours a long time ago and have never regretted that decision.  Evie gets daily speech and language services at school, she participates in physical education–both general ed, and adaptive.

Outside of school?  She swims almost every day.  She enjoys both the physical and recreational benefits of swimming.

As a family we enjoy the obvious benefits of not handing over any hope of disposable income to those experts that are standing with hands out to take it.  We enjoy parenting a child that is not exhausted and overstimulated by 20+ hours of intensive intervention a week.  We enjoy having an activity that we can all do together regardless of our individual abilities.

Find some physical activity that your child enjoys.  Don’t prioritize interventions and therapies over it.
Speak to Autistic adults.  Read what they write.  Listen to what they say.

Down time:
Don’t underestimate the importance of down time.  For every family member.  Maybe especially your Autistic family member given the fact that becoming overstimulated doesn’t usually lead to good things for Autistic people.

Down time is self directed.  Meaning there aren’t any expectations of what happens during down time (other than safety).  What constitutes down time for you, does not necessarily constitute down time for your child.

Let your child choose (within reason) how he/she will spend his down time.  Schedule down time every day.

Variety is the spice of life:
Not for everyone.  It is possible to be perfectly happy going for long stretches of time (forever?) eating the same things.  Doing the same things.  This isn’t to say that opportunities to try new things shouldn’t be offered and gently encouraged.  But take the pressure off your child (off yourself) to live a varied existence.

My child enjoys: pears, blueberries, corn, cheese, yogurt, apple sauce, apples, nut butters, pasta, and peas consistently.  When I combine cheese and pasta or cheese and pretty much anything, I am able to include less desirable foods–like spinach, chicken, ground beef, etc.  I’ve also found that she enjoys kelp noodles and quinoa pasta as much as the less healthy conventional alternative.

As long as your child’s nutritional needs are being met, don’t worry about variety.  Don’t worry about spoiling your child by preparing special meals for him/her.  Save yourself time and energy by cooking in bulk so that you have preferred foods ready to go.

Don’t be an “Autism Parent”:
Be a parent.  Parent your child.  Don’t parent a perceived set of deficits.  Each child has an individual set of needs.  The fact that other children don’t have the same needs does not mean that your child doesn’t have them.

I treat most of my child’s aversions like allergies.  I wouldn’t try to make a person with nut allergies less or not allergic to nuts by forcing nuts upon him.  No, it is not easy living in a world full of nuts with a nut allergy.  But forcing nuts on a person who is allergic to them can have devastating consequences.

My child doesn’t like having her head touched.  I don’t touch her head unless I have to for her health and safety.  I don’t expose her to sounds that she cannot tolerate.  I certainly don’t seek them out in the name of therapy.

Trust your child to say what is and isn’t okay for his/her body.

Make communication accessible:
Don’t value any one form of communication over another.  For a long time, I was so focused on Evelyn speaking that I didn’t give her access to other forms of communication.  In fact, I think I can even say I withheld it.  This is probably the worst mistake I have ever made as a parent.

Give your child every tool possible to communicate.  Remember that the ability to speak may not be constant.

Hearing the words, “I love you,” in any form is not nearly as important as hearing, “xyz hurts” or “I need xyz.”

Sleep matters:
Don’t underestimate the importance of sleep for anyone.  Sleep in our house is hard won for both Evie and me.  We’ve experimented with all sorts of strategies to achieve it. I resisted medication for Evelyn for a long time.  But when she doesn’t sleep, she is even more prone to seizures and other forms of injuries.  After trying just about every alternative to medication under the sun, both of use medication as a sleep aid.

I’m not pushing medication–especially for children.  I’m pushing the benefits of sleep for everyone.  Achieving sleep might mean stepping outside of your comfort zone.

I tried and tried to force a typical sleeping schedule on Evelyn.  What I’ve discovered is that, she sleeps best early in the night.  If she falls asleep between 6:30 and 7:30 PM, she will get up in the morning between 4:00 and 6:00.  Later bedtimes don’t cause her to rise later and she functions best on 10-12 hours of sleep.  As a night owl, I am still adjusting my sleeping rhythms to hers because my lack of sleep doesn’t seem to influence her sleeping.  But when she doesn’t sleep, I don’t either.

Seek medical advice about sleeping.  One of the things that likely kept Evelyn “up” during the first several years of her life is that she was an undiagnosed Epileptic.  Don’t just assume your kid is a “bad sleeper.”

YOU need sleep too.  Move heaven and earth to get it.

Ways we fight sleeplessness in our family:   experiment with bed linens, experiment with sleep time lighting, experiment with white noise, experiment with sleeping location, experiment with sleeping times, ban on electronics in bedrooms, medication, etc.

Have a strictly flexible routine:
That makes no sense.  But I don’t know what other way to describe it.  Routines are king in our house.  We have routines for everything–even going off routine like when we travel.

Our needs to know what is coming.  Or she gets anxious.

When something comes out of nowhere and catches us off guard?  Our routine is to indulge and sympathize.  In our case, we don’t restrict screen time and loosen up our nutrition standards–see: Evie consumes an entire big bag of smartfood in one day while watching an endless stream of Sesame Street.

Have a routine.  But when you go off routine, expect your child to need additional supports and accommodations.  

Find a small and private support network:
Most people need to vent from time to time.  Choose to do so in a way that does not violate your child and/or his privacy.

Have a question about parenting?  Ask it.  If it is about private matters, ask it privately or anonymously.

You don’t need to do it alone.  But be respectful of your child and skip making your child’s life a public exhibit.

Go offline:
Seriously.  When you’re feeling like you can’t hack it.  Like you can’t give your children the care they deserve.  GET.OFF.THE.WEB.  Actually well before that.  Shutting out the noise of the entire web should be one of your first steps.

Don’t over estimate your importance to the whole wide internet.  Outside of your small and private support network, we will be just fine without you.  I know you think people can’t live without your “real”, “raw”, and “honest” blog/facebook  posts but I promise you, that parents of Autistic kids will be fine without your violin in the orchestra.

All snark aside, I spent the entire month of September completely offline (with the exception of occasionally crushing candy quietly in a dark corner of the internet).  Actually, I pretty much spent the entire summer offline.  I cannot overstate the importance of these breaks to me and my family–I highly recommend them.

Ignore Facebook, your blog, other people’s blogs, Twitter, Pinterest, and whatever grinds you down.

Love the child you have:
“I love my child BUT AUTISM IS HARD.”  No.  The “but” and everything that comes after it negates the “I love my child.”

Don’t think your child doesn’t pick up on that “but.”

Your kid is awesome.  And if you’re still using the “but” after I love my child?  You’re missing out on a world of wonderful and happy.  Don’t waste another moment on the “but.”

Connect in ways that are meaningful to your child.  Even if it doesn’t come naturally at first to you.  Teach your child that he/she can trust you by being trustworthy and loyal–even when you think he/she isn’t looking.

Change the way you think.  I love my child but Autism is hard.  I love my child; therefore, I am going to parent according to my child’s needs.

Change the world.  Not your child.
Like me, I know many parents of Autistic kids are worried sick over what will become of their children when they can no longer be the primary support system.

The truth is that Autistic people will never be safe in a world that demands that they change.  In a world that doesn’t afford them the same standards of decency and humanity as those that aren’t disabled.

As parents, know that with every public statement you make about your child, you are telling the world what to believe about Autistic people.  You are telling the world how to treat your child and every other Autistic person now and in the future.

Spend your energy fighting against Autistic bigotry, not against the nature of your child.

Behavior Management:
Every time I think about how most Autistic kids are treated?  I feel a little panicky.

Imagine spending your days being prompted at every moment.  That there is a constant demand that you keep still.  That you suppress your need to move in the slightest.  That assumptions are made about the function of everything you do or say.  That you have almost zero moments in your day to zone out.  That someone is almost always in your face telling you what you must do.

Say nothing of being overstimulated by other sensory input almost always.  That people believe you to be simultaneously incapable and not working to your potential out of stubborn refusal.  That people do not respect your autonomy and that they think nothing of constantly hand over handing your every movement.

Your communication is shut down, not honored, ignored, written off as undesirable behavior, withheld, or otherwise not available.  What are you left with?

I’d protect myself physically too.  I know it.

Try backing off.  You won’t believe the difference this can make.  Ask me about how the school labeled Evie “a different child” when the ABA stopped entirely.  In other words, they started to see the only happy child her family ever knew.

What do you do to maintain familial happiness?