AUTISM summed up by one parent in a poem named – Kathy Winters ❤
I am the child that looks healthy and fine, I was born with ten fingers and toes. But something is different, somewhere in my mind and what it is, nobody knows. I am the child that struggles in school, though they say that I’m perfectly smart. They tell me I’m lazy, can learn if I try… But I don’t seem to know where to start. I am the child that won’t wear the clothes which hurt me or bother my feet. I dread sudden noises, can’t handle most smells, And tastes — there are few foods I’ll eat. I am the child that can’t catch the ball and runs with an awkward gait. I am the one chosen last on the team and I cringe as I stand there and wait. I am the child with whom no one will play, the one that gets bullied and teased . I try to fit in and I want to be liked, but nothing I do seems to please. I am the child that tantrums and freaks over things that seem petty and trite. You’ll never know how I panic inside, when I’m lost in my anger and fright. I am the child that fidgets and squirms though I’m told to sit still and be good. Do you think that I choose to be out of control? Don’t you know that I would if I could? I am the child with the broken heart though I act like I don’t really care. Perhaps there’s a reason I’m made this way — Some message I’m sent to share. For I am the child that needs to be loved and accepted and valued too. I am the child that is misunderstood. I am different – but look just like you.
In chart info I am referred to as having autistic like behavior . I was ” jacked ” up on
5. Xanax a day for 2 weeks , and my sensory was off the charts .
There was a lot of connectedness in reading this to my inner child self , who was without bond to my Mom, and highly sensitive , for a variety of reasons . After oral molestation , before I began school , my height indicated maturation that was abused by teachers with few exceptions . Post Traumatic Stress Disorder was unknown then and I was quite bouncy and felt isolated and fearful . Keeping to myself or with trusted friends , music, reading and imagination were my allies .
There was never an offering of support , therapy or healing that made sense unlit I accepted my Buddhist or higher enlightened self that was ignored by critics or educated sources , whose judgement was often toxic . I don’t believe that has a positive therapeutic place in mental, physical and spiritual wellness .