I did a selfish thing today: I started an Autism Spectrum Support group on-campus.
When I meet someone who cares for a person with special needs, and you have those shared moments of, "yes, I understand," it feels like those miraculous walk breaks on a long run. Really? You too? And just that moment of respite and you can start up again, slow and steady.
I'm struck by how miraculous it was. Just a few of us sitting in a room. At the last minute we were finally able to get an interpreter. I'd roped Yvette into doing an intro for the Vagina Monologues earlier this month- a courageous choice to step on stage with - when the same week she was one of the first to respond to my email to the RIT community to start this group. You too? I think about how I'm struggling to navigate all of this: What if you had to navigate another language, too? Just one more reason why this group needs to happen. It turns out the last minute interpreter is also a parent to a special needs child. We were chatting a little before the meeting and I felt she was connected to the conversation a little more than usual. Really? You too?
Jason - one of my most charming students - and now an alumni - was the first to reach out when I put out the call. He's got an older brother with Downs and Autism. "Welcome to the family," he said.
Autism is also a bridge. I've connected with people I've worked with for years and suddenly there's a new intersection - an important one: "You too? We need to talk!"
A group of us met today - not a lot of lead time but we had a small group. There was a softness, a vulnerability with this group of strangers - and those moments where we all nodded in unison: yes, I know. And there was some tough stuff shared today. But no one uttered "I'm sorry." There was presence and attention. You're sharing so I can learn? I'm so here for that. I also understand. Maybe that's the normalizing of our experience. Together, we're not "special" - we're just sharing knowledge.
A selfish act stemming from my need for help - and I've found a new community. Yup, this is hard. My kids are like every other kid, just 130% so. And maybe I have to learn how to be a better parent to that degree - but maybe we all get to experience a little more life in the process.
Back to the race in progress. Slow and steady. Enjoy the journey.
When I meet someone who cares for a person with special needs, and you have those shared moments of, "yes, I understand," it feels like those miraculous walk breaks on a long run. Really? You too? And just that moment of respite and you can start up again, slow and steady.
I'm struck by how miraculous it was. Just a few of us sitting in a room. At the last minute we were finally able to get an interpreter. I'd roped Yvette into doing an intro for the Vagina Monologues earlier this month- a courageous choice to step on stage with - when the same week she was one of the first to respond to my email to the RIT community to start this group. You too? I think about how I'm struggling to navigate all of this: What if you had to navigate another language, too? Just one more reason why this group needs to happen. It turns out the last minute interpreter is also a parent to a special needs child. We were chatting a little before the meeting and I felt she was connected to the conversation a little more than usual. Really? You too?
Jason - one of my most charming students - and now an alumni - was the first to reach out when I put out the call. He's got an older brother with Downs and Autism. "Welcome to the family," he said.
Autism is also a bridge. I've connected with people I've worked with for years and suddenly there's a new intersection - an important one: "You too? We need to talk!"
A group of us met today - not a lot of lead time but we had a small group. There was a softness, a vulnerability with this group of strangers - and those moments where we all nodded in unison: yes, I know. And there was some tough stuff shared today. But no one uttered "I'm sorry." There was presence and attention. You're sharing so I can learn? I'm so here for that. I also understand. Maybe that's the normalizing of our experience. Together, we're not "special" - we're just sharing knowledge.
A selfish act stemming from my need for help - and I've found a new community. Yup, this is hard. My kids are like every other kid, just 130% so. And maybe I have to learn how to be a better parent to that degree - but maybe we all get to experience a little more life in the process.
Back to the race in progress. Slow and steady. Enjoy the journey.
