CONGRATULATIONS/MY HEART JUST BROKE

Dear Persons,

I'm trapped in the kitchen with two beloved friends who are having a conversation that is killing me. Their concerns — top colleges, will they have to pay full tuition or get merit-based scholarships — are so far from mine. And my heart is breaking.

I’m at an intramural basketball game and the people behind me are discussing their kids’ SAT scores. And my heart is breaking. 

I could go on. And on. 

It’s been a struggle to write this post, because I don’t want people to feel nervous about talking to me, and I would NEVER want my son to feel he was a problem or burden or less-than in any way. 

So let’s get a few things clear:

1. I am happy for you and your child, truly I am.
2. I WANT you to talk to me and around me, freely.
3. I understand I am responsible for my own feelings.
4. I’m extremely, EXTREMELY proud of my kid, who is wonderful and perfect, exactly as he is.

But, as much as all individuals and families have their issues, life raising a child with special needs and/or having special needs in a “normal”/neurotypical world is just not the same as it is for neurotypical/typically abled individuals and families. And it needs to be okay to talk about that — to normalize those feelings and share ways to help ourselves and our kids move toward achievement and success, however we/they define those things.

So I share this heartbreak here — where people with differences and extraordinary challenges, along with their parents and loved ones, gather in community.

Most kids my son’s age are now going to parties, dating, driving, working, doing average or above average or spectacularly on the SATs/ACTs, going to college or about to, even thinking (at least somewhat realistically and practically) about careers. 

While kids on the spectrum usually complete high school, that accomplishment often entails the extended timeframe and/or extra supervision/accommodations/modifications specified by an IEP. 

At the same time — for both parents and kids — it’s somewhat easy through these school years to act as if many differences weren’t really impacting our lives. Everyone has the same schedule, and the same projected schedule, year wise, more or less.

But fewer than 20 percent of adults on the spectrum complete college.

And only 14 percent of adults on the spectrum are employed. 

So much has been written by parents, researchers, and allies about the period of diagnosis. How parents often need to give up their basic, original, often unconscious/taken-for-granted (that is, until brought into question when differences and challenges arise) dreams for their child. And then, how to cope with all that: Ideally, we adjust those dreams, replacing them with new ones.

There's less information out there about how your CHILD can face the potential loss of his/her/their dreams, or how to do so yourself when it’s your own life dreams that may be extremely difficult to attain (or impossible). 

It’s hard to find insights about how people transitioning to adulthood can achieve their basic goals and dreams in the face of extraordinary obstacles, most of which stem from a larger culture that does not necessarily support — never mind celebrate — people who may do things a bit differently. 

And there are a lot fewer resources in general available for adults.

In G’s particular situation, he’s already facing obstacles. Sure, lots of kids won’t get into Cornell, even with lots of hard work. And maybe there are other kids who want to be ornithologists and will have to try extra hard to get there. 

But for him, even dreaming of college is huge — and it will require many, many intricate factors to be wedged into place to even begin the process of moving toward his goals. 

Will his heart break, even a little, as he inevitably confronts his unique challenges?

Maybe less than mine does: He’s been understood, accepted, usefully diagnosed, supported, celebrated in his neurodiversity in ways that my generation largely was not. He’s whole, self-aware, untraumatized.  

We all have our heartbreaks. Just the other day, I thoughtlessly told a childless friend who has struggled with infertility that I couldn’t meet her because of something that came up with my kids. I winced: I could tell I’d thoughtlessly hurt her heart. And I was unsure of what to say or do. 

You know what? I bet that’s how people sometimes feel around me. Or you. 

So I tried to say something loving, understanding, and supportive. 

I guess that’s what G and I would probably like as well; but people are often clueless about this stuff.

So we deal as best we can. Extricating ourselves from some conversations, initiating others (as I am doing here). Being genuinely celebratory of others' success while refusing to let unfair barriers keep us down. Doing the work we need to do to heal, grow, and succeed. Persevering. 

And I’m hoping that when my heart is breaking (which feels frequent nowadays) it’s also cracking open, getting bigger — and thereby creating space for more compassion/wisdom/generosity, more faith in my child, more commitment to my advocacy work. 

As Leonard Cohen said, “There is a crack in everything / That’s how the light gets in.”

In the bigger picture though, the vicissitudes of my heart take a distant second place to  the importance of this amazing neurodiverse young person finding his way in the world. 

Just as I adjusted and grew far beyond my original ideas about my child’s life, I hope he will dream big. And if he ever has to give up one dream, I hope he will replace it with a bigger, better one, one that mitigates any heartbreak. I hope he dares to imagine a world made fundamentally more whole by his contributions…

I wish the same for all of you and yours. 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Mommy Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

An InLinkz Link-up

HAVING IT BOTH WAYS

Dear Persons,

I had an argument with myself yesterday.

I was thinking about this whole process I'm beginning for setting up G's future.

How I want him to have all the support he needs. And all the respect.

If you’re reading this, you probably have your reasons for doing so — and you probably understand some of the paradoxes of living with difference.

But yesterday my critical self — representing both a certain logic AND people who just don’t get it — accused me of trying to have it both ways.

I want G to have a safety net and scaffolding that will help him stay healthy and on point with his studies and/or work. That means federal, state, local, community, and family resources. And it means I will advocate and fight for these resources…

I will do so even as I believe in his capacities to thrive, succeed on his own terms, and even excel on a  wider scale — and will also advocate and fight for his equality on every level. 

He’s autistic and he’s brilliant. Partly, he’s brilliant because he’s autistic. Yes, without pressure he might never clean his room or his body again; yes, I hope someday that won’t be the case. But do you need to know anything — anything at all —  about birds, Pokemon, ‘90s punk funk, or Magic the Gathering? 

He doesn’t self-regulate vis-a-vis screen, sleep, food, etc. and he doesn’t self-regulate being friendly, loving, corny, and generous. For the foreseeable future, he will continue to need sensitive and wise supervision in a lot of the basics. But do you need a hug, a smile, a laugh, someone to look at you with eyes and heart utterly devoid of judgment? 

Think of all the ways people without extraordinary differences are helped out by other individuals and institutions, from federal poverty programs to local business initiatives, from recovery groups to the uptick in adult children living at home. We all need help! 

But being different is complicated. The types of public and private assistance that are commonly available are often predicated on being unable to do things that people “should” be able to do. Well, I’d like to note (not for the first or last time) that our G — like so many of his fellow “non-typical” people — can do a lot of things that not just anyone could.

Because society is the way it is (have you heard of the social model of disability?), he will need and deserve plenty of support and scaffolding if we are going to find out what he is truly capable of. At the same time, he will need and deserve a lot of respect and encouragement. All of these needs are valid and worthy because he's a disabled/differently-abled person, a twice-exceptional individual…a complex, complete human being.

Figure I - Valued Contributing Member of Society 

Figure II - Person Whose Needs are Valid and Worthy 

My hope is that G can be sustained by his environment in such a way that he can use his unique skills to become a valued contributing member of society. If that’s having it both ways, so be it.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 Welcome to Voices of Special Needs Blog Hop -- a monthly gathering of posts from special needs bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about having a special needs kiddo -- from Sensory Processing Disorder to ADHD, from Autism to Dyslexia! Want to join in on next month's Voices of Special Needs Hop? Click here!

An InLinkz Link-up

OUR FIRST ARGHER AND ACTIVIST AWARD

I know an Argher and an Activist when I see one, and, once in awhile, I am going to need to give a shout out to someone who really Arghed and Activised the heck out of something.

The first Full Spectrum Argher and Activist Award goes to a 14-year-old kid who happens to be on the spectrum and happens also to be a badass knight in not-gonna-take-it-anymore armor in Bay Village, Ohio who bravely came forward and called out the people who played a (warning: graphic and disturbing) TERRIBLE ALS Bucket Challenge prank on him.

Some people just can't get right....but some CAN! Bravo,  courageous one.

Please show your support at this Give Forward site.

Love,
Full Spectrum Mama

Second Anniversary Lists I: Advocacy

This time last year, we had just fought a grueling but successful battle to retain G’s IEP. He’d erroneously been tested for reading and math – his two best subjects – and been removed from eligibility because of the not-surprisingly good results of those tests…Meanwhile, he was barely able to write a word, a sentence, a paragraph…

We’d “won” that fight, with the help of his teachers and principal, following a lot of foot dragging from the district; what we still had to contend with a year ago was a relatively homogenous school environment and a child who struggled with expressing himself coherently in writing and felt bullied every day.

I shared what I learned from that intense experience in this post: http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2013/01/first-anniversary-lists-i-advocacy.html. If you are looking for basic tips on advocacy, this post is the place to go. Please see the list toward the end for my pointers on dealing with bureaucracy, and IEP and 504 meetings, and addressing your child’s/children’s needs in institutional settings.

In retrospect, I can see that – much as I adore and respect the heck out of him -- beyond words!  Puh-lease!!!! -- on a subconscious level I was seeing G as in some small way a part of “The Problem.”  Now that he is in a more diverse environment, with students who are comfortable with a mix of people, and teachers and administrators who are accustomed to kids on the autism spectrum, a lot of things have eased up. 

As always, this is what worked for our family. In the balance, making the choice to move our entire existence was the right one for us. It was also a huge gamble, a chance not all families are able to make (and we have BARELY made it -- whew!) -- and one that I am happy to say paid off in our case. Autism was less common in G’s old school and this impacted every level of his experience, from institutional to educational to social. Obviously, G is still on the spectrum, but his present school is more of a spectrum too. For him, for us, this works.

And so, without further ado, my first second anniversary list:

School Advocacy II

1. Context matters. A tiny, cozy school where everybody knows everybody might be the right one for your child. Homeschooling might be the right choice for your family. Or perhaps your child will do best in a big school with lots of services and a wide-ranging student body. Maybe an alternative/private school might be your chosen option, if you can afford it, or are able to access scholarships or school district support. My point: the impact of environment can be more profound than one realizes.

2. Sometimes Change is necessary. To say that change and transitions can be challenging for our Full Spectrum would be a vast understatement. Sound familiar? If stuff isn’t workin’ out too well as it is, though, you might consider changing things up.

Little changes can matter too: does your child lose focus while doing homework in isolation (something you might’ve arranged to minimize distraction…)? Try using noise-canceling headphones in a more-busy area and crunchy carrot sticks (haha, I meant chips) to keep things lively.

Bigger changes, like moving and changing schools, obviously entail bigger risks – and possibly bigger benefits too.

Ease changes where you can with strategies such as advance notice, clear scheduling, and comfort measures – soothing (or stimulating) activities, food, objects…

           

3. Stay vigilant.  Isn’t that just great advice? Yeah, even when things seem fine: stay vigilant. Pfffft.

But -- wouldn’t you know it, as soon as I felt like the school had things well in hand I sorta…exhaled…and took a little breaky-poo? Next thing you know G is failing certain assignments and I am called in to a Meeting and then I am writing my Meeting Friend this text:

“[Censored]! I forgot about speaking up just nodded and said I will talk to [G] when in fact they did not do right by him or create an environment where success was possible. Help! Must regroup. But I am okay. Just entered brief complacent fugue state and now will triumph…somehow ;) p.s. Don’t worry. Am bemused but okay. Forgot [G] has disability.”

In this particular instance, G was failing a months-long writing project because he was overwhelmed by the combination of his classroom environment and learning new technologies and skills on the computer.  He’s at a point where he might be able to handle one of those things and still reach his potential, but not both.

So I wrote his teacher along these lines:

Dear [teacher],

Thanks for meeting with me yesterday.

I was really left with two different thoughts after our meeting: on the one hand, [G] does need to learn to buck up, get it together, ship shape, etc. but on the OTHER he does have a disability that we need to accommodate and work with to best bring out his potential.

I do feel that his failing this project because of new-computer frustration would be a shame. Clearly, he was overwhelmed by learning new skills in a busy environment, which is typical for him as well as many children on the autism spectrum.

I will work with him at home. Hope you can give us an extra week or so to whip it into shape in a low pressure-high achievement environment ;)

Thank you,

            [FSM]

His teacher allowed him to take some extra time and he ended up with a decent(-ish) grade on the assignment.

Yay vigilance!!! Just because a school gets a wide range of students doesn’t mean you won’t have to advocate from time to time…

4. Cycles: Know that there will be cycles of advocacy challenges. After a recent blessedly calm, several-week meeting-free stretch I witnessed with chagrin my Meeting Friend looking stricken while being collared by the principal at pick-up. I was unable to get to her before she rushed off with her child, so sent I her psychic and text support and planned to call her and inquire. A few minutes later, Pardner called me and said the school had called US because G had gotten “agitated” over a computer imbroglio (see above). Anyway, when I called my MF to check in, come to find out her child, too, had been “agitated” that day. Wheee.

            5. Services:

In this larger, more-inundated school, G no longer qualifies for many of the services he received at his last school. Part of this – in PT and OT -- is because of great past work by amazing physical and occupational therapists; some progress is G’s own hard work. But it’s also because the standards of qualification are more stringent. And I do worry that G will fall way, way behind again. His early motor skills and kinesthetic test scores were typically all at the very lowest end of low.  Now that he’s low-average, will he continue to grow and improve without help? Or at least not regress? Please see #3…

G no longer has a one-on-one either. This is because his classroom already has three embedded paraprofessionals in addition to a highly effective, gifted, funny, experienced teacher. Do these three have enough time to get to everyone who needs their attention? Again, see #3.

At the same time, G’s new school offers a lot of services, particularly in group-settings, that were unavailable at the small school he previously attended. I feel like G’s needs are being met in different ways, and that we are in a basic state of balance between services and mainstreaming. But I am also ready to put on my official clothes and use my lint brush and march in there at once if necessary. Luckily, the parties involved do what they do because they care about children and education, so I do feel we are all on the same page as to wanting the best for G.

If you do not feel this way, if you and/or your child/ren is/are in an environment where the powers that be do not share this best-wanting intention, and are reluctant to change, you may need to advocate more powerfully OR see #s 1 and 2.

6. Treats: I am going to write more about this in “Second Anniversary Lists III: Choosing your Battles,” but I am impressed by the power of treats.

a. Treats for Students: G’s new school uses sugar for almost everything and it works. I know, I know: sugar. Regular readers will be well-informed of our sugar aversion. I cringe every time G shows up after school with a neon-colored lollipop. But positive reinforcement – what does your child love/crave? Maybe it doesn’t have to be so ghastly? – can make the difference between a child who is functioning, even thriving, within school boundaries and one who is flailing and failing.

I know G’s lollipop represents his sitting in his seat, or not interrupting, or closing the bathroom door…and since sugar affects him less than it does me, I make the choice to allow it. I mention this in this here Advocacy piece because working with your school to put a system of treats in place for rewarding positive behaviors might really make a difference for all parties concerned.

If you can figure out what really might feel like a treat to your child (or yourself, or your student, or your roommate, or partner, or…) -- whether it’s praise, hugs, Pokémon cards, screen time, or something else, perhaps something unique (but it must be something

Clear, and

Consistent)

-- you can begin to assess whether that individual responds well to this sort of system.

            b. Treats for Advocates: sometimes necessary.

            c. Treats for All, for No Particular Reason: also sometimes necessary.

Regarding these treats prescriptions, remember: Full Spectrum Mama is a Doctor [of philosophy].

Strong and effective advocating to you,

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

First Anniversary Lists II: Attachment Disorders

An attachment disorder can be very isolating. Whether your experience is as a parent, as someone with an attachment disorder yourself, or in dealing with someone close to you, knowing others are in the same boat can help you feel less alone. Count us in on your AD boat, friend, and read on!

Here are some things I wish I had done and/or known earlier about Attachment Disorders:

Attachment Disorders

1. Get professional help. Healing attachment disorders is tricky and time-consuming and entails very specific directives rarely (if ever) arrived at through trial and error.

Most loving, engaged parents or caregivers will never come to therapeutic parenting by their own logic. Parenting an attachment disordered child can be counterintuitive and require you to do things that defy your culture and instincts in order to help your child heal. Caring closely/intimately for any person with this potentially debilitating disorder will entail similar adaptations.

2. Several readers came to FSM casually, only to suspect -- having learned more herein -- that they or a loved one might have an attachment disorder. While I am not a neurologist or psychiatrist (big disclaimer!), I am a pragmatist. I do hold that in some cases if a model of care works for you, professional diagnosis may be a secondary concern (disclaimer: of course, see #1!). 

3. Whether you are dealing with a child or an adult, a loved one or an unloved one, or yourself, know that disordered actions – however manipulative, cunning, cruel, sneaky, dishonest, controlling or aggressive -- come from deep pain and fear. If you are truly experiencing an attachment disorder, you will need this compassion in times to come.

4. In an attachment disordered context, therapeutic parenting means setting strong boundaries and following through on every. single. goshdang little thing in order to build feelings of safety and trust.  

We were able to see instant positive results in many areas when we shifted to this form of care. Tantrums, for example, have been a great field of progress for us (so long as I handle them as advised; every once in awhile I am all, “&&%$# it!” and then things can get ugly: once the tantrum train is in motion it is VERY hard to stop). Other aspects of our lives have progressed much more gradually, and some have seemingly not changed at all.

Take note of emotional and practical steps forward and remember them during difficult moments and times when being a boundary vigilante has you bushed.

5. That said, you will get tired. It will sometimes be hard to see your child’s (or another person’s, or your own)  heart through the oft-constant challenges and maneuvers. The more attached an attachment disordered person gets, the more they push – because they care, and are scared about that caring.

One thing that works for us is for me to get close to Z and really look at her, and into her eyes. Pausing that way, and letting the love rise to the surface – though not something I am always willing or able to do – almost always reminds me of the truth of our relationship. It reminds me that we should none of us be defined only by the manifestations of our pain.

Humor works, too. Actually being funny in those very special moments is Not Bloody Likely. So what about the absurd? “Oh yeah? You are going to tell me that you did not take this rotten food item that is hidden in your pillowcase? Well, I am going to tell you that I am going to Get in that SPACESHIP out there and fly to a planet where everybody wears pillowcases full of rotten food at all times. And if you Don’t wear your rottenfoodpillow you are very WEIRD. So I am out of here.”

Give yourself a break, and another chance. Same for others.

6. Get support. Find others who are faced with this unique challenge and lean on them for advice, mutual comfort, and commiseration, as well as for the sharing of hopes and progress.

You are not alone. Probably, you are doing your best.  Here’s to hope, love, humor, strength, patience and second (and third…) chances…

Next week: Anniversary List III.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

First Anniversary Lists I: Advocacy

When G was a colic-y newborn, I made a list for myself so that I could remember the main reasons he might be crying. Actually, I made a few copies of the same list, and placed them around my tiny East Village apartment in hopes that

a. I would somehow see them and then,

b. remember to read them and then,

c. Know What was Going On. The list read as follows:

  Is [G]:

Hungry?

Tired?

Poopy?

Wet?

…Did you think I was joking?

Nope.

Often, I couldn’t remember to look at this exhaustive list -- and so was frequently perplexed by G’s vigorous and frequent crying.

What, I continue to wonder, was quite so hard about having a healthy (if fussy) newborn?

Okay, sleep deprivation. Yes.  And, sure, complete re-evaluation of life plan and goals and appropriation of all time by baby. But: newborns can’t walk or go anywhere by themselves! They can’t even crawl. All the same, there I was, like every new parent, near-paralyzed with overwhelmitude.

Insofar as I can remember, though, when I did happen upon the list, it was quite helpful.

Eleven years later, one year ago this month, I was inducted into a very strict and demanding writing group. Having considered myself a writer all my life, this made sense. But for the last decade I had been writing in only the most limited fashion.

We had less than a month to produce something…and I had no idea what to write!

I sat down in front of the computer and found that I had but two thoughts in my head: one, “write what you love,” and two, “I love my kids.” I began to think about something that had been tickling at the edges of my brain for some time: the notion that my children -- both of whom are considered “special needs” and “high needs” -- sometimes benefited from very different, one might even say opposite, parenting styles and, other times, needed very similar treatment for very different reasons. I wondered if our travails might be humorous and/or inspiring and/or comforting for others. Having never even considered doing so before, I suddenly found myself starting a blog!

A year later, I have written dozens of posts, and they have been read by thousands of readers. The process has been tremendously rewarding, and I am deeply grateful for the support and wisdom that has come our way through public and private comments.

In my last post (http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2012/12/process-represent-toot.html), I was struggling with a number of questions around education and services and things got pretty wordy. After posting, it occurred to me that it might be more helpful to offer what I learned from that situation in a more accessible format.

I’m still prone to making lists, and subject to forgetting to read them. The process of making them, though, has its own rewards, and, here, my purpose is practical: the possible sparing of even just one person some fraction of the ridiculousness and cluelessness that is abundantly available to us all. So, to celebrate the one-year anniversary of Full Spectrum Mama, I decided to condense a few of the things I have learned this year into lists, mini-manuals that I hope will be useful and won’t take too much of your precious time to wade through...

We are still working – often ineptly, generally without definitive answers -- on diet, the social piece, executive function, body awareness and a plethora of other good stuff. For my first celebratory list, I condensed my experience in the world of navigating school as the parent of a non-traditional learner. While this list is entitled, “School Advocacy,” it might also be applicable to other bureaucratic situations in which advocacy is required.

School Advocacy

1. Know your terms and your rights! I cannot stress this enough. You want to be taken seriously, and to present an aura of knowing both the facts around disability, learning differences, “special education” programs and schools AND your options and the protections and programs available to your child. If you are informed, you are able to present yourself as someone to be reckoned with, and thus, in a time of limited resources, your child is less likely to get lost in the system.

2. Wear something to important meetings that makes you feel powerful.

1. Remember to use a lint brush before you attend the meeting.*

3. Know that those you are dealing with are probably good people who got into education (and “special education”) because they wanted to serve and help children; know also that politics, budget concerns, and egos, too, will have a place at the table. Take names. And do everything you can to keep the focus on getting your child the help that he or she needs.

4. In case your child does not qualify for services in one area, know your areas of qualification in order to explore other possibilities for getting him or her the help he or she needs. In Vermont, the areas of adverse effect are Written Expression, Reading, Math and Orientation/Mobility. Sometimes a 504 will do when an IEP won’t – and vice versa. You may have to be extremely persistent or change tactics if one door closes…

5.  Review ALL documents very, very carefully.  Small errors (for example, one report stated that my son had a diagnosis of “Asperger’s disorder;” this morphed, as my correcting email crossed the paper trail, into - and I wish I was joking here - "asperberger's disorder") may have large consequences later on. If the materials are daunting (chances are they will be), try to find someone to review them with you. Every state has advocacy groups that are willing to assist you in this process. In Vermont, the Disability Law Project (http://www.vtlegalaid.org/our-projects/disability-law-project/) is a great resource. 

6. If you find yourself in a position where you need to advocate for your child, you may be surprised by your own ferocity. (From a private comment on my last post: “Back in my days as a grant writer I did some work with special-needs students' parents.  My God, [FSM], they were the fiercest advocates I've ever been around!”).  On so many levels, you and your child will need what that ferocity brings. Just make sure to keep your demeanor a step away from cray-cray. (Please see #1.)

Next Week: Things I wish I had known earlier about Attachment Disorders.

Love and thanks,

Full Spectrum Mama

* Big thanks to Thistle, who suggested this in a reader comment.