Great thanks to Sharon Robertson for sharing this with the CawsnJaws readers. – CAW and JAW –

I don’t know if any of you have ever thought about my blast and what it might mean but because of recent events, I’d like to explain.

My son is autistic. Autism is very misunderstood, even among the “experts”. And I certainly don’t claim to have some extraordinary knowledge regarding what is labeled as a “disorder”. But I do have the experience of having lived with my son for the past 16 years, which I feel gives me some understanding, at least of him…

Let’s start with “Different does not equal less.”...I came up with this myself…at least I think I did…if someone before me coined that phrase and I have inadvertantly “plagerized” the idea, I apologize. But I’d like to explain what it means to me…

There seems to be in our society the idea that if one does not somehow fit into the “norm” (meaning what, exactly?) that they do not have any value. I’ve experienced this first hand, so I have a knowledge that others who do “fit” may not. I can assure you, it is quite painful to know that others see you as having less worth simply because you do not look or act as they do.

I’ve also experienced this by observation. I remember quite well a girl I knew in elementary school who was “retarded”. She was the recipient of much harassment and heartache, simply because she had the misfortune of being born brain damaged. I learned again in third grade, what had been brought home in my own life so many times before – if you aren’t what people in general perceive as the same as themselves, you don’t deserve to be treated with aything except derision and hatefulness.

This is a lesson I’ve experienced as a mother as well…It is painful to be misunderstood yourself…it is DEVASTATING to see it happen to you child.

My son’s behaviour is very “untypical” at times and always has been. He has been judged and “misjudged” many times in his short life. As he gets older, it becomes more painful for him because he is aware, to some extent, of his differences and the judgements people make against him. And yet he’s as powerless to change these behaviours as a person of color is powerless to change the tone of their skin.

But does he have value? Oh! Dear Sweet Jesus, yes! Because of him there are people, like myself, who have the courage to press forward day after day, despite the hardships we face. Because that’s exactly what he does…despite all the difficulties he faces each and every day due to a brain that is “wired” differently, difficulties that most of us can’t even FATHOM, much less think about dealing with…he goes forward with humour and grace and a gentleness of spirit that definitley comes from a source greater than mere humanity.

Now, lest you think he’s a saint…he’s not. Sometimes he’s rude and disrespectful and loud and obnoxious. He gets angry and rebellious just like any young man going through the changes of adolescence. Sometimes he’s selfish and I’ve heard him be quite spiteful at times. Some of these behaviours stem from adolescence but they are greatly exaggerated by the differences and deficits of autism.

But for the most part, he’s a sweet spirited, fun-loving soul. Will he ever make lots of money? Unlikely. Will he discover the cure for AIDS? Probably not. Will he solve the problem of global warming? I doubt it. Will he ever do more than be a janitor? Or a Walmart greeter? Or maybe a bag boy at a grocery store? I don’t know.

But aren’t there others for those more “important” tasks? Is there really anything WRONG with being the person who cleans up after kids at school? How long could they continue to learn in an environment littered with trash and filth? What’s WRONG with being the person who with a genuine, warm smile says “Welcome to Walmart” and gets a cart for you? Isn’t there value in a young man who carefully bags your groceries and then offers a word of encouragement as he finishes loading them into your car?

You see, I think sometimes we have things all messed up. I KNOW we have when we think that someone is less valuable just because they don’t do the tasks to which we’ve assigned honor.

And the second part of my blast…“Not saying anything is not the same as not having anything to say”...

My son was not able to communicate verbally until he was almost six years old. Even then he could do so only limitedly. And now at sixteen, most of what he tells you most loquaciously, are rote memory facts about racing, sports, classic rock or “pop” culture. But occassionally, when everything is calm and his overloaded circuits relax and the connections are made, he can actually put into words how he feels or what he thinks.
The rest of the time he has to rely not on words, but on actions, simply because the words won’t come to him.

Let me share a story with you. Shortly after my son was diagnosed with autism, just before his fourth birthday, I was reading one of those terrible books that doctors suggest you read when you find out your child is autistic. (Side note here: I KNOW that doctors MEAN well…but asking a parent to read one of these “horror books” on the technicalities of this disorder is somewhat akin to asking the loved one of a cancer victim to read an autopsy report on someone who has died from the disease…anyway…) I was in the middle of this book which was graphically slaying every ounce of hope within me regarding my child’s prognosis when I suddenly became overwhelmed by the enormity of it all.

I burst into tears. No, let me rephrase that. I began to SOB. Loudly.

And there, across the room from me, standing by the sofa, chewing on a sock (yes, at four, his favorite pastime was sock-chewing!) was my beautiful blonde haired boy, seemingly lost forever to this dreadful diagnosis. He looked at me curiously and slowly moved toward me. Then he did the most wonderful thing. He, who spent most of his time lost in that silent little world inside his head, took his little saliva-soaked sock and wiped the tears from my eyes then laid his head on my arm to comfort me the only way he knew how.

That’s the day I threw away the book.

And there are others, who although not locked up in the dysfunction of autism, are nevertheless as helpless to convey their thoughts and feelings. What about those bound by the effects of an alcoholic mother or a father who was emotionally abusive. Or what about a young person who suffered having an older relative or “friend” take advantage of their sexuality in order to gratify a selfish need? What about those people?
Are they somehow of less value? Do they have any less to say because they cannot put their feelings into words beyond the pain?

You see, being different DOES NOT equal less. And not saying anything IS NOT the same as not having anything to say.