Our family's descent into a dark side of autism, and the leaky boat we live in |
Yesterday at school, with no warning, my son Jonah overturned and threw his desk, attacked his teachers, and was ultimately so aggressive he required a two-person takedown (where his caregivers follow trained physical maneuvers to protect both him and them). My son’s a slender, slight boy, but also wiry and strong. He has autism with severe behavioral problems. He’s been potty trained for five months now, and will sometimes utter a sentence/request: “I want juice please?” On March 7, Jonah turned ten years old. Jonah’s also a cutie, and a charmer. He loves trains, baths, and the beach, tight hugs and Grandma and chases. Though he can only speak in phrases, he can sing entire songs, in tune and with near-perfect rhythm. He taught himself to swim when he was five and dives deep underwater, surging to the surface over and over again, spitting water in a perfect stream. He even invented his own nomenclature (any kind of cola, for instance, is black soda, and whether it’s a dime, penny, or nickel, to Jonah it’s moneycoin). He dances and runs, shouting his jabberwocky to anyone within earshot. He’s never embarrassed, never ashamed. And since August 16, 2011, he’s been living an hour and a half away from me at an educational residential facility for individuals with autism. I used to judge people like me, people who sent their children away. I don’t judge anyone anymore. I blog about my son because I have to write about him. The Never Normal is not a triumph-over-autism story, and it’s not a wise mother’s guide to life with autism. It’s just an honest account of our crazy, messy lives. I would like to publish a book in blog format - a memoir of our lives. Thank you for your kind consideration. |