I have been wandering recently. Preoccupied with too many things, my mother's health, my families welfare, the playgroup, taking on responsibility, and redefining myself without paid work. I have obsessed and have not been able to concentrate, not able to focus, not able to study. But I seem to have turned again, and it is time to go back to the trenches and read and write. Read, right now. More on Autism, and later more on Trauma and RAD.
What I read about autism saddens me. Not the differences or disabilities, but the understanding of separateness that these children carry with them as they grow. At this point, I do not think that Julia knows that she is different. I don't think she sees the world as marching to a different drum than she does. I think of the children in our playgroup and I think that only one, possibly two understand this. And for them, there is blessing in this time.
To fully understand difference and to understand that they can never bridge the gap is crushing. The weight almost too hard to bear -- bones break, muscles dissolve.
At least in my perception.
I understand difference first hand, but my difference which seemed so magnified in my younger years shrunk as I grew. They shrunk as I found people that were patient with me and my speech. In a sense that was all that I needed -- patience. And patience, although meaning the world to me as a teen and young adult, is so little. Such a small accommodation in legal terms. Such a small step from the ordinary.
But these children who are not neurotypicals, need more than patience. They need translation. What is necessary is that they change or some many people in the world change. They need so much accommodation. And I do not want to necessarily change them, not strip from them who they are and replace it, but how are we to reach out, how to bridge that gap.
Now that I understand the research a little bit, my heart is breaking.
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