my words are my own

Dear teacher,

You know who you are. You. All of you.

Your words aren't my words.

You can't say that I believe what you want me to believe. You can't say that I think what you want me to think. You can say that I am who you want me to be.

You know who you are. You, who thinks that you can manipulate your students through me. Who tries to make it so that the only adult they trust is said to say the things that you know exist only to control them.

You can't control my words. My words are my own.

I've heard you say "Don't you agree" to me so fast that I don't have any time to process what you've said. But no, I don't agree. And your students will hear that. Your students will be told just how much you are trying to manipulate my words.

I've heard you make claims about what I think, without asking me, knowing I will not agree. And no, this doesn't stand.

My words are my own.

My disability doesn't mean you can control me. I am not a tool for abuse.

No.

You know who you are.

And I know what you're doing.

My. Words. Are. My. Own.

504 plan meeting from the student's point

I was in discussion with someone who wanted to read about the process of getting accommodations from the student's point of view, and realized that I didn't have any links of this. I didn't know of anyone who had written up what this was like for them. But I could write up my memory of getting a 504 plan, even if most people would want to know what it's like to go through getting an IEP.

For me, getting a 504 plan was people deciding this for me. Things were too much. I kept being overwhelmed by things being too much. It was at the point where my disability was annoying for others, and where people couldn't pretend I wasn't disabled. It was at this point where I was going to a different school, and going to one which cared enough about me to provide accommodations when they realized I was over my head because your grades aren't all there is to school.

I was in high school. Might there have been things that could have helped me before then? I don't even know. I didn't know abut the possibility of accommodations. I didn't know about the concept of me being disabled. It wasn't available as a thought, and looking back I have no clue what would or wouldn't have worked better, because so many people focus only on if your academics are good then clearly your time in school is good, when my academics were good, and my time in school was awful.

But at this point I was in 9th grade, and overwhelmed by people, and changing things, and feeling like I kept getting put in impossible situations. And at this point, it was seen that I was a disabled kid who should get accommodations.

So, my parents, the school counselor, and I went to a meeting in her office. I had a chair in the corner. I was allowed in the room, but I was off to the side. The meeting was about me. I wasn't part of it. I was off to the side.

They talked about me, what problems that I had, what things could help. I wasn't asked what would help. Others decided what would be good for me. If I wanted to add information I was allowed to, but it wasn't lets try to make them figure out what would be best and support them through this process by figuring out what is available, and figuring out what types of things might possibly help by how we know them. It was others talking about me and me having the option of adding things. And being asked "does that sound right", when I am someone who will just say sure, good, because of being overwhelmed, and wanting to get away, because it is too much, too long, need to get out of this meeting. I am someone who will say sure, because of not wanting to cause problems, not wanting to make things harder and more awkward and more work for others. The fact that it's about making things easier for me, about my accommodations, doesn't change my immediate reactions of but I can't cause you to do extra work. And if that isn't planned for and taken into account, then it will come up. It was people talking about me, and me saying sure. That works. And it being like it didn't matter that I was in the room, except that I knew what happened. And if anything really bad came up I had the option to say no.

But what didn't happen, was it wasn't people asking me. It wasn't people including me. What could have happened instead, was people trying to make it be about me. It could have been a place where people could teach people like me how to figure out what accommodations are accommodations I want because they are what accommodations I need. (I still don't know what would help for executive functioning, because nobody has ever tried to help me figure this out and I don't know how to go through that analysis process of what would help.) It could have been a place where people could have given me agency over what do I need, instead of me feeling trapped in a room knowing others were talking about me and wanting to run because of feeling so trapped. It wasn't that. It was people talking about me. You can do better. You need to do better. (And looking more general, I know so many people who reject accommodations because of their accommodations being done like this.)

And then I had a 504 plan, and it existed, and I didn't know much beyond that. I knew that meant that things that had been causing me problems weren't going to exist anymore because it was written down that it couldn't. But I didn't know anything beyond that. I was confused but didn't want to talk to anyone and didn't want to ask any questions and didn't know what questions I'd ask because it was like sure this is a thing, and not really explained to me. It was like, because I was there I didn't need an explanation because I would pick up the explanation. Or like it wasn't necessary because 504 plans are simple and thus don't need anything explained. But I just wanted to have the information because information is important to me and wasn't given it and felt like I would need to seek it out and didn't know how.

It worked out to be helpful and valuable and something I am glad happened. I'm glad I got accommodations. I'm glad I was seen as disabled and taken seriously as who I am. But, as a disabled child, I was talked over. I wasn't allowed to be equal. I couldn't talk about myself, others talked about me. I wasn't allowed to understand, because others understanding meant it didn't matter if I did. Things about me were about me by others not with me part of the process, and that has effected me years into the future.

And that is a problem. I should understand my own accommodations. To some degree that was taken from me by people denying me accommodations. To some degree that was taken from me by people choosing my accommodations instead of letting me understand and help figure out what it is that I need.

And who knows, I could have had accommodations that were more of what I needed if I was simply asked.

You, yes you, deserve accommodations

You, yes you, deserve accommodations.

Deserve isn't the right word really. But you say you don't deserve them. So no, you do deserve them.

Accommodations aren't about being deserved or not. They're not about you being "worthy" of what you need. They're not about you being good enough. You don't deserve accommodations because have the right to accommodations. No matter how much you think that you're not disabled enough. No matter how much you compare yourself to others. You, yes you, should get every accommodation you need.

You've been taught your entire life that accommodations are for the weak. That you're giving up. That you just need to try harder. No, this is for you. This is making things equal. You aren't weak for asking for, for taking, what you need. You are strong for being a disabled person living disabled, demanding that we do not need to just try harder when there is no harder to try. You are strong for finding what the things are that mean you can do what you want to do. You are powerful. Accommodations are not weak.

You've been taught your entire life that you aren't disabled enough. To compare yourself to others. But what about those people. You aren't them, don't need the help they need. You're either taught that you're better than them, or that you're taking from them for requesting accommodations. But, you're disabled too. You can live you life as who you are, instead of trying to pretend you are abled, trying, fighting, failing. You aren't better than others, because of what help you need being different, but you can find the help you do need. You can ask, you can get those accommodations. You aren't stealing from others by getting what you need. There's not a limited supply of accommodations where once they're used up they're gone. People making the world more safe, more accepting, more accommodating, is helpful, not harmful.

You are disabled enough. You don't need to look at others and say that because you can do things others can't, you need to try harder, you need to do more. You don't need to fight to do everything always. You are disabled enough. Everyone needs help sometimes, and everyone needs to turn to others. And you can say, I can't do this. And you can say, just give me this accommodation. You, yes you, deserve accommodations.

You hear the messages of how inspiring this person or that person is. Of how much everyone does. Of how great people are. You hear the messages of how hard you need to work. If you just try a little harder.

But, you can say, let me be me. This isn't for me.

And you can have accommodations.

You hear the messages of who you are supposed to be in other people's eyes.

But who you are doesn't change.

And you, yes, you, can, and should, still request accommodations.

Your child is a child

Your child is a child

Want to hear that again?

Your autistic child. Your disabled child. Your child, who you are scared about, who you hear all of this fear mongering speech about. Is a child.

You're confused. You're scared. You don't know what to do. That's fine. But your kid is a kid. Your kid needs to be a kid, because they are a kid. Autism doesn't take away their childhood. Autism doesn't make your 5 year old not a 5 year old. Autism doesn't mean your teenager isn't a teenager. Your child is a child.

What's happening. Where do you turn. Stop, and think, and let yourself calm down. Because what your kid needs is to be loved, like a child. To be respected, like a child, to be parented, like a child.

Your child is growing and learning and an amazing being, who is themselves, their own unique being. And you don't have all the answers, because you don't know anyone else who's child has all the same needs and interests and ways of interacting with the world as yours does. But all children grow and learn. Autism doesn't change that. Autism doesn't mean your child won't grow up and be an adult.

And when you need to ask questions, you can say, my child is autistic, how does that apply, because lets find the ways to make this world less awful for someone like them, lets find the ways to teach how to advocate, lets find the ways to be, and love who you are in such a world. And at the same time you can say, my child is a child. They will babble, they will question and learn their body as their body grows, they will question you and push boundaries. They will be their own unique amazing being who's growing into an adult and finding their way.

And that means yes, your child is disabled, and you can't ignore that, don't make your child grow up unsupported and unaware. It means yes, your child is autistic, and having the resources of autistic adults in particular can be very valuable. But it also means simply, your child will grow up because right now they are young, and they won't be young forever.

Autistic children grow into autistic adults. We don't stay children forever. We grow, we learn. We are, we exist. Your child will grow up. Don't forget that.

"At least it's not worse"

"Oh but you're safe here", "it's not like anything could actually happen to you", "at least most people are supportive"; being told others know my reality more than I do is just yet another day-to-day thing. Being told that things that have happened to me, do happen to, that I need to prepare to happen to me every time I go and do anything because of how unsafe the world is, could never happen, is just more of the my story - someone who cannot know what is or is not safe, because Things Are Worse For Others.

"It's not like it's dangerous here, in this place", this place where I've been repeatedly threatened for being disabled, for being queer, for existing. This place where you are telling me of course there's no danger, but where I've had people do whatever they can to purposefully trigger my disabilities, threaten me physically and emotionally, refuse my accommodations and scream in my face that I cannot be, make me fear if I'm alone. It's not dangerous, because you don't see the dangers. It's not dangerous because you want here to be safe. It's not dangerous because I've found a way through.

"Everyone here is supportive", in a room with people who have abused me. Memories washing over me every time it's said. Needing to run, but unable to, because that would be even less safe, with people knowing how other I am, how I am the one who was hurt, I am the one who isn't safe there. But everyone is supportive. I just need to pretend. Because you want your safety, your friendship, your reality without the pain of life.

I just make it up. I'm not really in danger. I've not really been hurt. I don't really have any reason to be afraid. None of the people you care about have done anything to me. Because my experiences shouldn't exist. Your reality of everything is great. Everything is friendly, and awesome here is more important than what has happened and is happening to people like me.

"At least it's not worse." But my experiences aren't real to you. And I know that. I always know that. And the gaslighting continues whenever I interact. And you, you're everyone. Because I'm someone who just is yet another person who doesn't really exist in your reality. I am not important enough. I just exaggerate, I just fake. I just...

I should should be happy to be alive.

Because it's not like I matter to you anyways.

Oh but I'm safe here, in this place, where my experiences aren't believed, where my reality isn't believed, where I'm told I'm not real. I'm safe, because I'm told I am. I'm safe, because you want me to be. I'm safe, because there's no alternative.

Except the reality of knowing who I am.

I walk with a long cane

My visual acuity tested at 20/10 the last time I was tested. My field of view surprises many people in how large it is. And I walk with a long cane.

I have never crossed streets by sight. Sure, I was taught to look both ways, but that was rote memorization of a movement they said to do, not anything that gave me information. Listening and hearing where the cars where and how they were moving was always how I knew when it was safe, and I didn't know this wasn't what everyone did.

Touch and sound and knowing my environment. I have grown up overwhelmed by too much and everyone assuming I knew what was going on, while I was working with other senses.

Assumptions say one thing, but I walk with a long cane.

In 2016, I got O&M after a too long of process of trying to manage the process of getting O&M as a sighted person.

And now, not feeling like I need to try so hard to do things in ways that increase pain, overload, confusion, and make it harder for me to actually complete what I'm trying to do, makes such a difference.

Not being just sighted so of course I need to use vision always when there are so many ways that vision doesn't make sense, and so many ways that if I tried to do that things would be dangerous for me, and so many ways that would mean I just can't do anything else because relying on vision costs so many spoons.

Instead being me, and using the tools that make sense at the times they make sense, and having people do sighted guide for me and recognize that is meaningful, and it being okay.

Not needing to try to be someone I'm not. Because I can't be anyone else. But what that means is recognizing how my brain works and supporting that. And as such, I memorize locations, I memorize routes to the point of being able to go miles on my bike (not to mention my feet) by the texture of the sidewalk, I listen, and when it makes sense to, I walk with a long cane.

More thoughts on A Wizard Alone and representation in fiction

I learned I was autistic and A Wizard Alone came out, within months of each other. This was a book I had preordered, a series that was my favorite series. It was something that I knew was going to be devoured and loved, because Young Wizards was my life at the time.

And this was when I found out that I was autistic. When suddenly, there was an autistic character in the latest book of my favorite series. And I read this book repeatedly. Whenever I needed anchoring I read this book. This book did not leave the side of my bed, because there was a character like me in a book that already meant so much to me.

And on the flip side, I could never stop being aware that it was wrong to be like me according to this book. It was good to stop being autistic. It was bad to be autistic. When I wasn't reading this repeatedly and living on the Young Wizards forums, I was living in autistic spaces, repeating amongst voices the word neurodiversity, saying that it wasn't bad to be me, being me, and trying to be loud, while not knowing how to be, as a teenager.

I was living this life where the thing grounding me, was a book that was important to me because it was already my favorite series, and was important to me because it had an autistic character, no matter how much that autistic character didn't look like me or move like me or think like me, no matter how much if the word autism wasn't said I wouldn't relate, because this larger family of autistics was a family I belonged to, and this character was someone who was like me and this mattered.

And I was living this life where this same thing that was grounding me was telling me I was wrong. And where I was going and spending large amounts of my time telling people that acting like this book was wrong, though not naming it by name.

This was what I needed, because what I could find for fiction at this point in time with autistic characters were stories and characters that weren't like me and that said that autistic was bad. Latching on to one of these stories, where a character wasn't like me and it was wrong to be autistic, but it was a world and series that I loved made sense, because there was still autistic. Because I could cognitive dissonance and dissociate away the parts which said, but you're not supposed to be this way. Because I could be, this is important, autistic is important, autistic fantasy is important.

And when the NME came out, this meant no longer was I needing to pretend in order to protect myself. While at this point this was no longer that book that I was holding myself together with, it was a book with that history to me, from a series where I buy every book the moment they're available, and a community which I grew up with.

I didn't need to keep saying "but it's okay, I like this book even though I wouldn't accept this from any other book, because it's important enough to me in other ways", because now it was fixed, now it was okay to be autistic, now this character looked far more like me than the previous edition's had (though still we're very different, because all autistic people are different). Now it was a book I was not afraid of recommending to people, and was instead one I wanted to recommend, because it was not only important, it was important, and had an autistic character like a character who actually felt autistic, not like the label was attached, and it was okay to be autistic.

These changes matter. Representation matters.

But what also matters is that it wasn't as huge of a deal as I would have expected when the NME came out. It mattered a lot because of the importance of YW to me, and because it was fixing a book that was problematic, but while I couldn't find books back when the first edition of A Wizard Alone came out where autistic wasn't wrong, now I can find these. Now I've read many. Now autistic authors writing autistic characters is a thing I can search for and choose to read and I know how to do that. Now fanfic with autistic characters isn't difficult to find. It wasn't as huge a deal because the a change in amount of fiction I can find with autistic characters does exist. And that matters too.

There still needs to be more. And we need more PoC autistic characters, and nonspeaking autistic characters, and in general more autistic characters which don't fit the norm that currently exists in fiction. At this point, I'm not looking to a book that wants to cure me because I feel alone and like I'm the only autistic person in the world and that matters. And others need that level of, not being alone, fiction recognizes they exist, too.

The point was always control

CN: abuse of children in schools, ableism, restraint, seclusion, BCBAs

When BCBAs are concerned meltdowns are "behaviors" to be "handled", and how much distress a child is in doesn't matter, but there are still rules in place. Rules they set up for themselves, but rules. Rules like whoever's the first adult in place for "managing a behavior" is in control of whatever is to be done for that "behavior". They control when restraints happen, and who restrains, and how transporting the child to the tiny room that the child gets put in to finish the meltdown in (because of course that'll help a meltdown). They control the decisions. They're allowed to explicitly hand it off to someone else, with consent of both parties, but otherwise, they have control.

This is a rule, an explicit rule, a rule that everyone is told, and everyone has to agree with, and everyone has to know that this is how it works, because this is apparently the safest thing to do. This means that everyone knows who to turn to, and people don't try to go in opposite directions in how they're managing a situation. There's someone in charge and everyone knows who it is and nobody has to make a decision of who it is ever when a "behavior" is going on, because they're more worried about the "behavior" (I mean not the kid of course).

But I mean, what happens if an autistic person is the first on the scene. What happens when a kid starts melting down, because of an entirely predictable reason to be melting down, because adults have pushed them into a position that is completely unreasonable for a child to be in and they cannot cope, and they're trying and trying and trying to cope, and they can't. What happens then? What happens when they're doing the best they can, and an autistic adult is helping them, because the autistic adult knows them, and is seeing their responses, and is seeing that they're calming down, and making it through, and it's working, and life is getting easier and more organized, because someone is there and helping them in ways that they need right now?

No, despite all these rules, these whoever's on the "scene" of a "behavior" first, if it's an autistic person, that's not allowed. An autistic person isn't allowed to be treated equally. The child isn't allowed to be respected that much. Nobody is allowed to have that much respect, because the BCBA needs the control of choosing who takes care of "behaviors" and how. Respect isn't allowed. You need the ABA, you need the restraints, you need the control, you need the abuse. You need to control the autistic people this way. You need to hurt both of them this way.

So instead, they take this autistic child, who's working through a meltdown, and grab, and restrain, and pull them across a room, and throw them into a tiny little space, for a meltdown that never even met the rules that they had claimed met the requirements of restraint was allowed for. Because control is necessary. Because helping children isn't the point. Because helping children was never the point. Because when children were actually getting helped, that wasn't allowed, that was giving too much power to people they didn't want to have any power.

Restraint, Seclusion, ABA, Abuse, children going through trauma, and living with this for the rest of their lives.

The point was always control.

"too emotional"

CN: suicide, ableism, ABA

I should not live in a world where I have to worry that my students won't be alive every time I go to school, because of how they're treated by their teachers. This world should not exist. This world should not be our world. I should not have to worry that my students that I care about, who play with me, who go out of their way to do things with me and include me, and who make sure that I'm someone who knows that they care about me, won't be there when I wake up, because every other adult in a school, instead of caring about them, only cares about behaviors, and eliminating them, and behavior plans, and doesn't even care how many times they even break their behavior plan because who cares if they hurt the children they have power and they'll show the children they have power. I shouldn't need to be there, listening to the children about their suicide attempts, not knowing how many more exist beyond the ones I know about, but knowing that they exist.

I shouldn't live in a world, where because I've not been at that school for a year and a half now, I don't know whether everyone is still alive. I know nobody will tell me. The students would, but they don't have a way to contact me. Some of them tried to friend me on steam, but somehow that fell through. None of the adults would. The adults didn't tell me whether or not I had a job anymore. They just stopped talking to me. Why would they tell me about students I care about living or dying. They don't care about me. They never hid they didn't care about me. They claim to care about the kids, but they abuse them. It's a common pattern.

I shouldn't have to be reminded and wonder whether people I care about are alive or dead knowing if they're dead it's probably suicide. I shouldn't have to think about teenagers and how many suicide attempts they've made. I shouldn't have to know what they've gone through because of how much people have taught them that they can't be autistic, autistic is wrong, they're wrong, among the piles of lessons taught by people taking over their minds and bodies through ABA. I shouldn't have to know these things.

And if I didn't know them, I couldn't have been there, and I couldn't have helped them through the years I was there. I couldn't have introduced them to neurodiversity and autistic community being a thing. I couldn't have been someone who they learned to trust. I couldn't have made the difference I know I made. And I would still know that this is happening to children. The children just wouldn't have names and faces.

I'm told by people I'm too emotional when saying that what people call therapy is actually abuse. I'm told that being angry will mean people won't listen to me.

I just don't want anyone I care about dying. I just don't want anyone else abused. I just want this to stop now.

How can they not be emotional about this?

Speech Therapy

CN: abusive therapy

When I was a child, my school discovered I didn't speak properly. My reading level was determined by how many errors I made when reading aloud and I couldn't pronounce the words. I couldn't make the "old" sound. "s" and "th" sounded the same. There were others, but I don't remember what now. My teacher sent me to speech therapy.

I had speech therapy from 1st grade through 7th grade, skipped 8th grade, didn't have it in 9th grade, and had it again in 10th grade. It felt never ending. The 10th grade speech therapy I didn't mind because they timed it in order to have me miss a class I really shouldn't have been in and they actually were halfway respectful, but the rest of the time they treated me like I was nothing. Their role was to fix me.

I would go to speech therapy, and every week they'd pull out the same card, with the same words on it. I would have to read these words in the same order. Repeatedly, because I'd get words wrong. Their job was to tell me I was wrong. When I got something wrong they would tell me I was wrong. They wouldn't tell me how, or give me any suggestions as to how to fix it, and they wouldn't even say that I was pronouncing it wrong, they would tell me I was wrong. Go again. Wrong again. Repeat, repeat, repeat, wrong, wrong, wrong. I'm just wrong. That was their role, make me know that I was wrong. I'm wrong for not speaking the way they want me to. I'm wrong for being different. I'm wrong for needing to take time out of their day and needing to make them work. I'm wrong because I can't understand why I'm wrong and I'm not getting better. I'm just wrong.

Oh I had a monotone voice, later on they had to fix that too. Repeat, repeat, repeat, tell me to try again. Tell me that I need to do better. Tell me that people could never understand me if I spoke the way I did. Tell me that I need to speak normal in order to be understood. At least this time tell me that I need to raise my pitch to ask a question, still don't give me the slightest clue how to do so. Just tell me if I don't do so I'm wrong. Keep going. Be more wrong. Know how much they hate me. They won't hide it in the slightest. They make it clear that I'm supposed to know what to do to fix my speech.

All speech is wrong. But not speaking is wrong. They don't realize it, not realizing I'm autistic, but they teach me that I'm wrong if I don't speak no matter how much it hurts me. Even when it causes physical pounding migraine pain, I talk. Even when it causes anxiety attacks, I talk. Can't not talk unless words literally don't come out of mouth. Must use mouth. Only option. Taught that it doesn't matter how much it hurts me. It hurt me then, it hurts me now, that doesn't matter, I have to use speech, speech is what is needed, speech is always what is needed. It hurts so much.

In many ways speech is still theirs, not mine. Speech is something I was made to do, even though I spoke. Speech was something that now how I speak is determined by the therapy I got as a child, but the pain that happens, also came from the same place. It's when I can't make sounds the way they've taught me that I feel most natural in some ways, because I don't feel the pressure of needing to be who I've been taught. I can just be.