**Editor's note: I began writing this a week ago, when emotions were raw, as they still are. This may contain some language that offends and surprises long time readers of mine. While I apologize, I also ask for you to regard the use of this language in the context that it is used. I'm hurting. It's that simple.
Today, I don't want to accept the hand my son has been dealt. I want to rage and scream, cry and cuss. I want to demand answers to questions I haven't even formed, and probably never will.
Don't mistake me; this isn't about autism. I've made my peace with that and moved along. I've embraced it, even. I admit the hard and love the mediocre and the great. This other thing, it's different and it hurts.
Today, I'm admitting that I would change my son in a heartbeat.
I would change those scores and words that say "significant cognitive impairment." I would make life easier for him.
I would give him steadier footing on the playing field of life, because this is all so damned unfair. I would jerk away the regression that's stealing so many of his skills, much like I jerk up weeds in a garden.
I'm not sure that I'm supposed to admit here, or anywhere, that I would change my son, or that I'm mad, hurt, or wishing for a miracle of sorts. However, today, I don't care.
This feels different than when he was diagnosed with autism. We were better prepared, perhaps, better researched, definitely. I've known he had a "borderline" cognitive range since he was first evaluated. I expected that score to go up, somehow. But now? There on paper, it's states he's intellectually challenged. And it hurts.
God help the person who calls him "retarded."
Tomorrow, or the next day, I will research until my fingers cramp from the effort. I will find out exactly what it means for someone to be below the 1st percentile in something. I will be proactive. I will acknowledge that this new diagnosis makes sense.
But today, I'm sad. My boy is a great human being and none of that is reflected on a score sheet. I'm scared for him and worry for his future. He wants to work in a train store, which I think he'd excel at, but how would he run a cash register if he can't do simple math any more?
Today, I'm going to vow to live in the present as much as possible because the future is just too frightening.
Today, I'm going to cry, pick myself up, and then, move along.
Showing posts with label r-word. Show all posts
Showing posts with label r-word. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 16, 2015
Monday, March 11, 2013
No, I'm not okay with that
*Contains strong language
Dear woman in my apartment complex,
I know you don't like me and I'm okay with that. Honest. In a very high school fashion, my friends and I don't care for you, either. You're entirely too loud, crass, and rude.
However, this evening, when you saw Morgan happily "chugging"... flapping his arms, making his noises, excitedly heading off with his brother and me to walk his dog and observed him and his "problems," you didn't need to look so disapprovingly at him.
When I was walking back, carrying his little brother because he had clearly fallen and was upset and Morgan was chattering up a storm.. and licking his face because he was nervous.. and flapping.. and saying hello repeatedly to all of the children, your little "darlings" (who openly reject him, by the way - great parenting!) included... you didn't need to loudly say to my neighbor "you know he's not right?"
Just.. no. Hell no.
I'm not okay with this. You said that within earshot of me, as I clearly displayed... while shaking.. holding on to my child.. while Morgan was standing next to me. I'm sure he heard you, too, but I'm not sure if it was clear to him that it was he you were referring to.
I did not respond in the fashion I so dearly wanted to because there were children present - mine, yours, the neighbors...
I did not tell you everything I wanted to because, unlike you, I have some modicum of decorum within me which dictates that I not unleash on you. This is in spite of having years worth of pent up rage from dealing with parents, teachers, and strangers just like you.
I'm so not fucking okay with this.
I see you and people like you every day. Your children are less behaved than mine. To look at my Autistic son and say "he's not right?"
You, and people like you, are what is wrong with society. I get I ask people to not judge, so in the case of pot calling kettle, I'll be the damned pot. You are teaching your children that it is okay to openly criticize my son. You are saying, by example, that it is perfectly alright to hurt him with words.
At a birthday party last fall, when your son and another boy snuck up on my son, who was having a sensory break, and screamed, "Morgan's a RETARD! Morgan's a RETARD!" you acted as if my son was to blame. Why? Because he was there? Because he's Autistic? Because you aren't raising your properly? What crap!
I admittedly went temporarily insane because you had the gall to tell me, "You see my son? You see his tears? Your son did this! My son feels bad and you should feel bad." Tell an Autism mom something that batshit crazy and see if she doesn't respond in a similar fashion as I did.
*(For the record, I told her she was raising an asshole, okay? And I might have said she was allowing him to be a terrorist.)
So, no. I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay with people like you. People like you make people like me want to scream. I can't stay calm... and collected.. and rational. The only reason I can even project that sort of image is because I have my children around me 99.9% of the time.
Count yourself lucky.
Sincerely,
One Seriously Pissed Off Mom
Dear woman in my apartment complex,
I know you don't like me and I'm okay with that. Honest. In a very high school fashion, my friends and I don't care for you, either. You're entirely too loud, crass, and rude.
However, this evening, when you saw Morgan happily "chugging"... flapping his arms, making his noises, excitedly heading off with his brother and me to walk his dog and observed him and his "problems," you didn't need to look so disapprovingly at him.
When I was walking back, carrying his little brother because he had clearly fallen and was upset and Morgan was chattering up a storm.. and licking his face because he was nervous.. and flapping.. and saying hello repeatedly to all of the children, your little "darlings" (who openly reject him, by the way - great parenting!) included... you didn't need to loudly say to my neighbor "you know he's not right?"
Just.. no. Hell no.
I'm not okay with this. You said that within earshot of me, as I clearly displayed... while shaking.. holding on to my child.. while Morgan was standing next to me. I'm sure he heard you, too, but I'm not sure if it was clear to him that it was he you were referring to.
I did not respond in the fashion I so dearly wanted to because there were children present - mine, yours, the neighbors...
I did not tell you everything I wanted to because, unlike you, I have some modicum of decorum within me which dictates that I not unleash on you. This is in spite of having years worth of pent up rage from dealing with parents, teachers, and strangers just like you.
I'm so not fucking okay with this.
I see you and people like you every day. Your children are less behaved than mine. To look at my Autistic son and say "he's not right?"
You, and people like you, are what is wrong with society. I get I ask people to not judge, so in the case of pot calling kettle, I'll be the damned pot. You are teaching your children that it is okay to openly criticize my son. You are saying, by example, that it is perfectly alright to hurt him with words.
At a birthday party last fall, when your son and another boy snuck up on my son, who was having a sensory break, and screamed, "Morgan's a RETARD! Morgan's a RETARD!" you acted as if my son was to blame. Why? Because he was there? Because he's Autistic? Because you aren't raising your properly? What crap!
I admittedly went temporarily insane because you had the gall to tell me, "You see my son? You see his tears? Your son did this! My son feels bad and you should feel bad." Tell an Autism mom something that batshit crazy and see if she doesn't respond in a similar fashion as I did.
*(For the record, I told her she was raising an asshole, okay? And I might have said she was allowing him to be a terrorist.)
So, no. I'm not okay with any of this. I'm not okay with people like you. People like you make people like me want to scream. I can't stay calm... and collected.. and rational. The only reason I can even project that sort of image is because I have my children around me 99.9% of the time.
Count yourself lucky.
Sincerely,
One Seriously Pissed Off Mom
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
That r-word
*Contains language.
There are few words within the English dictionary for which I take offense. I'm an adult and know that words cannot really hurt someone like punches or slaps can. However, that really is not true, is it? Some words hurt more than others because certain words carry connotations of pure malice or disrespect given your situation or background, even if the bearer of those words is not aware of your situation or background. One word in particular stands out to me - retarded.
I hate to even write that word. I loathe that word with a passion. When I hear or read it, I feel slapped. Since I am on Facebook and Twitter (though infrequently), I unfortunately read it unintentionally almost daily. I see it used as a synonym for "stupid," "lame," and "idiotic," among other things. The r-word, it seems just won't die.
People, when I correct them, tell me one of two, or both, of these things: (1) the medical establishment has used the term "mentally retarded" for an incredibly long time to describe individuals who are intellectually disabled or (2) First Amendment right- right to free speech (this is usually not expressed so eloquently).
1. The medical establish has effectively phased out that term, so that argument is invalid. If you catch a doctor saying this, slap him/her- they deserve it.
2. I'm not trying to infringe on First Amendment rights. I love my First Amendment rights! That I am writing a flippin' blog says I am exercising them, doesn't it?
What I am asking, when I ask for someone to not use that hateful word, is for people to not be assholes. To consider who they hurt. People like me. People like my son. He can read and hear, you know. Ask yourself, before you say it, if you would be willing to say that to this face:
Morgan was first called retarded when he was about three. At least, that's the first time I was clear headed enough to comprehend what was being said. A very pretty little girl with pigtails said, "get away, you retard!" on a playground in South Carolina. Furious, I marched her over to her mom to tell her what her daughter had said, expecting for some reason some civility. But no, what I received was, "well, is he?"
That wouldn't be the last time. Morgan has been called that by quite a few people, both children and adults. Other words have entered the fray, but that one sticks in my brain and his. My husband and I have both admitted to using that awful word before but not after Morgan. We're ashamed. Neither of us ever realized exactly how much it could hurt. Now that we do, we want to end its use. This isn't hypocritical as I know I've been called, this is a learning experience and a hard one. To anyone I may have ever hurt, I am deeply sorry.
So, remember the next time you go to utter that word or words that can be used interchangeably for something else. You know which ones I speak of - they're bad and words hurt. If you are unsure as to the substitution you may use for the r-word, get a dictionary. Or, you can refer to this handy little picture I've been posting on Facebook. It's available as a poster! Hey, poster and thesaurus in one!
March 6 is Spread the Word to End the Word Day. Please, click here to sign the pledge to help end the use of the r-word. No, I'm not enough of a dreamer to think that this will actually end this awful word. But I'm enough of one to hope that this movement will eventually catch on and help weed out jerks. Tell a friend. Hey, tell five.
There are few words within the English dictionary for which I take offense. I'm an adult and know that words cannot really hurt someone like punches or slaps can. However, that really is not true, is it? Some words hurt more than others because certain words carry connotations of pure malice or disrespect given your situation or background, even if the bearer of those words is not aware of your situation or background. One word in particular stands out to me - retarded.
I hate to even write that word. I loathe that word with a passion. When I hear or read it, I feel slapped. Since I am on Facebook and Twitter (though infrequently), I unfortunately read it unintentionally almost daily. I see it used as a synonym for "stupid," "lame," and "idiotic," among other things. The r-word, it seems just won't die.
People, when I correct them, tell me one of two, or both, of these things: (1) the medical establishment has used the term "mentally retarded" for an incredibly long time to describe individuals who are intellectually disabled or (2) First Amendment right- right to free speech (this is usually not expressed so eloquently).
1. The medical establish has effectively phased out that term, so that argument is invalid. If you catch a doctor saying this, slap him/her- they deserve it.
2. I'm not trying to infringe on First Amendment rights. I love my First Amendment rights! That I am writing a flippin' blog says I am exercising them, doesn't it?
What I am asking, when I ask for someone to not use that hateful word, is for people to not be assholes. To consider who they hurt. People like me. People like my son. He can read and hear, you know. Ask yourself, before you say it, if you would be willing to say that to this face:
 |
| pretty cute kid |
Morgan was first called retarded when he was about three. At least, that's the first time I was clear headed enough to comprehend what was being said. A very pretty little girl with pigtails said, "get away, you retard!" on a playground in South Carolina. Furious, I marched her over to her mom to tell her what her daughter had said, expecting for some reason some civility. But no, what I received was, "well, is he?"
That wouldn't be the last time. Morgan has been called that by quite a few people, both children and adults. Other words have entered the fray, but that one sticks in my brain and his. My husband and I have both admitted to using that awful word before but not after Morgan. We're ashamed. Neither of us ever realized exactly how much it could hurt. Now that we do, we want to end its use. This isn't hypocritical as I know I've been called, this is a learning experience and a hard one. To anyone I may have ever hurt, I am deeply sorry.
So, remember the next time you go to utter that word or words that can be used interchangeably for something else. You know which ones I speak of - they're bad and words hurt. If you are unsure as to the substitution you may use for the r-word, get a dictionary. Or, you can refer to this handy little picture I've been posting on Facebook. It's available as a poster! Hey, poster and thesaurus in one!
 |
| http://alisonrowan.bigcartel.com/ |
March 6 is Spread the Word to End the Word Day. Please, click here to sign the pledge to help end the use of the r-word. No, I'm not enough of a dreamer to think that this will actually end this awful word. But I'm enough of one to hope that this movement will eventually catch on and help weed out jerks. Tell a friend. Hey, tell five.
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