The Party is Over The Cops are Here.

Well don’t fret. It is a pity party that is over. Echotig and I have been perusing Autism blogs more specifically the blogs of Autistic adults. It is fascinating. I love hearing what they have to say.

These wonderful people are sick and tired of not being treated well. They do not have a victim mentality. Yet, groups that claim to benefit autistics frequently pity and belittle them. They are making an effort to remove the stigma.

When we first discovered that Tiger was autistic I thought Rain Man. I thought this was something terrible, degenerative and beyond all control. Even my college Psychology classes did not inform me very well. I prayed, “God why!!?” The tragedy was overwhelming.

Now that I am better informed, the pity party is over. You see Tiger is a great kid. He is Tiger not Autism. Autism has delayed his speech. Autism gives him sensory aggravation. But autism does not define him. Tiger is no victim.

My desires for Tiger are simple. I want him to be independent and happy. Other stuff just is not worth the anxiety. Neither me nor my family wants pity.

This world is large and autistics have a place in it. There is no reason for them not to find that place and live independently and happily.

I rode the train with some students one day. They were teenagers with special needs: one blind boy and two autistic boys. These boys are special people of superior character. None of the three of them will be able to operate an automobile. So they were learning to use public transportation. I asked them what else they do. All of them had jobs and hobbies. None of these boys were victims. None of them needed pity. They were all going to be fine. Their attitude is admirable. They blessed my day with their presence.

In a world full of people who want the government to run their lives, there exist a group of folks who don’t want assistance. The very people we could easily dismiss to subsistence on the doll strive to achieve and succeed. These people see their sensory problems as less serious than my bad spelling.

The party is over. The cops have hauled my pessimism to jail. It is time to go home.