Lindsay's cognitive skills compare to a neurotypical 5-year-old and her verbal skills compare to a neurotypical 3-year-old. One of her perseverations is a fixation on Barney (the purple dinosaur). I recall an episode that included a young girl with a disability - I think she may have been hearing impaired. The storyline centered on this girl's struggle to fit in with the rest of the kids. Lindsay's reaction was shocking and saddening as she covered herself up with a blanket and just listened to the dialogue and cried and cried. She rewound and replayed sections over and over as she rocked beneath the blanket sobbing. She wouldn't talk to me or allow me to comfort her.
Lindsay does not have the emotional, cognitive, or verbal skills to talk about that experience, but it seemed very obvious to me that she resonated with that feeling of not fitting in, of not being like everybody else. Whether that means she has tried to wish her autism away or would try if she understood enough to try, I don't know. But there have certainly been times when autism caused her great great sorrow.
As someone who does not have autism, I know what it is like to be neurotypical and I can see what struggles someone who is not neurotypical has that I do not have. As someone who does not have autism, I do not know what that is like or whether you might look at my life and be saddened at the struggles I have that you do not. The idealist in me would like to say that the joys and struggles of each of our lives balance each other out. And I have seen plenty of joy in the lives of those with autism around me. But the moments I have seen kids with severe autism (especially those who are nonverbal) look trapped behind their own eyes against their will? Those moments make me wonder.
Have I and many others benefitted in our worldview, experience, and life because Lindsay has autism? Heck yes, we have. Would I wish autism away or cure it? When I see Lindsay sobbing alone under the blanket, heck yes, I would.
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