April is Autism Awareness Month

This one hits close to home for me, as two of my three children are 'on the spectrum'. Not that I would change a thing if I could; I have three of the most extraordinary, intelligent, amazing human beings in my life one could imagine. Still, for those who can appreciate the following, keep strong. It does get better and it is our job to make this a world where understanding and compassion conquers all.  What follows is a poem I wrote years ago, when my oldest son (now 13) first began to verbalize that he knew he was different than his peers.

"My brain is not work",
You said, as you knocked
Your small hand, fisted,
To your head, and looked
Up at me with the sincerity
Of pain.

Nine years old, and still
You can only speak
In quotes and even then,
You often misplace the
Grammer; Finding dialogue
From the world to insert in any
Conversation you might 
Ever encounter.

How creative.
How disastrous,
Your brain is work,
For the rest of us-
Trying to mold 
Your big soul,
To fit our small view,
The doctors don't know 
What to make of you, 
And I can only make
Mistakes, it seems.

I want to scream.
To take your suffering,
And inflict it on all those
I deem more worthy.
Like the kids who laugh
At you and their parents,
Raising putrid animals.

I want to curse.
A god that would give you
Life and not equip you with
The light to stumble through it.
You're the reason 
I hate Rand, and I can't 
Stand the phrase:
"Survival of the fittest",
Because who the hell 
Is anyonetell me
You have no value?

You're valuable to me.
My precious baby,
I would kill and die 
And burn for eternity
Just to secure 
That you are happy.

But I can't make you talk.
Or understand, 
Or even hold your hand
Forever and protect you
From this unforgiving world,
This horrid pool,
Of stinking egos,
Content on determining
That you do not fit in.

You're brain does not work,
That's true; it does not conform
To this pre-determined perfection,
Presumptuous, and arrogant
Definition of
How to think-
Of how to do.

I'll stay with you.
We'll try to find 
Our own way,
We'll count each day
As you do dates, with precision,
And we'll recite entire scenes
From Star Wars, like we did
When you were three and I 
Would wonder why you never
Did say 'momma'.

We'll eat ice cream,
And we'll find a dream
For you to chase,
And I'll do everything I can
To aide you in this 
Ridiculous race the
Species has with itself.
And we, won't tell any 
Of them that we already won.

If you can't beat 'em, join em...(but don't tell anyone)

Holy depression, that last blog was pure courtneylove/marilynmanson/garybusey.  Sorry about that. While I usually enjoy being an OG, sometimes I get a little OE (original emo). If you don't know what OG stands for, get off my blog and find the part of you that missed out on 1990's popular culture.

Now, on to more important matters: hypocrisy among social workers. During my recent trips to crazytown, there were many instances in which I found myself questioning weather or not I had the right to feign an air of moral  superiority over clients.  For those of you who will take issue with the concept of feigning an air of moral superiority (I know you idealists are out there) then please let me know what you call it when you attempt to make the advice you give believable and from a source that must know better than the client?  In any case, I have played many roles in my lifetime but hypocrite  has not often been a part well suited to me, until recently apparently. 

As it turns out, my hypocrisy knew some bounds : )  I gave up social work for a year and am very likely a better person for it. Due to the fact that 9.00 an hour as a work from home customer service rep does not pay the bills, and the fact that it is nowhere near as rewarding as oh, say, saving someone's life...I am BACK. So watch your back, yall. I'm out to kill with optimism and flowers and such again : )