Some of you know that my sons have aspberger's syndrome. You may also know that my youngest is bipolar. What does this mean? It means they do not see the world as most people do, which is a source of wonder and horror to them and to me and my wife.
My oldest blithely plows though life and social situations. He has literal blinds spots. He cannot understand irony. His sense of humor is mechanical. He observes what people laugh at, and will replicate jokes based on his observations, but is not wired to understand the humor. His own inspired laughter is a rarity. His day to day laugh he learned from Sponge Bob and it is a clacking construct he deploys at moments when he thinks it is time to laugh. He is, above all, brutally honest because he does not see or understand social convention. When he sees dishonesty, he says so. "You lie," he says to the principal when she attempts to explain why she had one of his violent classmates locked in the time out room. "You didn't know what to do. You were scared." His observation skewered her like an insect mounted on card stock for display. The truth of it paralyzed her. The lens of his vision has a clear focus. He speaks what he sees, which is both powerful, and dangerous.
My youngest has rage and his asberger's forms itself in a deep need to be accepted. It is a curse for him. He wants friends and is adept at finding people who will use him for his need. But, he had rage. It flares from him in caustic rage that burns all who it touches. He seeks love. He is rejected. He does not filter his hurt. He folds it back on the sender quickly and with balled fists. It is dangerous for him and those who treat his hunger for their attention with disdain. He is desperate for friendship and laughter and does not understand the world has more darkness than light. He does not understand that love freely given is not always wanted, nor understood. His kind little heart is mirrored by a sense of justice and dismay that finds voice in screaming outrage. I fear for him, because his fists become his vice and the world must reject that. We face the clock. Will he end up institutionalized, either as a criminal or as a patient?
My wife and I were stunned to find ourselves here. Although we are relatively unscathed by the genetic burden that we carry, we now look back up the family tree and along its adjacent branches and see the twists and turns of abnormality. My sister has asberger's, as does her brother. Her mother has been treated constantly for clinical depression and my mother is clearly bi-polar, although she would never accept that nor seek help for it. This gives meaning for us and helps understand the how and why. For awhile it gave us a place to blame. That was unproductive. Now, it just is, and a way to understand.
My life is not what I anticipated. I make more money and am in the top .02% of my profession. This I did not expect. My marriage is better than I ever thought marriage could be and she is a source of unending joy to me. My sons. My sons. My sons are wonder and horror. Darkness and light. Calm and chaos. They make me stronger. They make weaker. They are joy and despair. But Yin and Yang dance in a circle. They have taught me that.
Life is more, and less, than I expected. I thank them for that.
My oldest blithely plows though life and social situations. He has literal blinds spots. He cannot understand irony. His sense of humor is mechanical. He observes what people laugh at, and will replicate jokes based on his observations, but is not wired to understand the humor. His own inspired laughter is a rarity. His day to day laugh he learned from Sponge Bob and it is a clacking construct he deploys at moments when he thinks it is time to laugh. He is, above all, brutally honest because he does not see or understand social convention. When he sees dishonesty, he says so. "You lie," he says to the principal when she attempts to explain why she had one of his violent classmates locked in the time out room. "You didn't know what to do. You were scared." His observation skewered her like an insect mounted on card stock for display. The truth of it paralyzed her. The lens of his vision has a clear focus. He speaks what he sees, which is both powerful, and dangerous.
My youngest has rage and his asberger's forms itself in a deep need to be accepted. It is a curse for him. He wants friends and is adept at finding people who will use him for his need. But, he had rage. It flares from him in caustic rage that burns all who it touches. He seeks love. He is rejected. He does not filter his hurt. He folds it back on the sender quickly and with balled fists. It is dangerous for him and those who treat his hunger for their attention with disdain. He is desperate for friendship and laughter and does not understand the world has more darkness than light. He does not understand that love freely given is not always wanted, nor understood. His kind little heart is mirrored by a sense of justice and dismay that finds voice in screaming outrage. I fear for him, because his fists become his vice and the world must reject that. We face the clock. Will he end up institutionalized, either as a criminal or as a patient?
My wife and I were stunned to find ourselves here. Although we are relatively unscathed by the genetic burden that we carry, we now look back up the family tree and along its adjacent branches and see the twists and turns of abnormality. My sister has asberger's, as does her brother. Her mother has been treated constantly for clinical depression and my mother is clearly bi-polar, although she would never accept that nor seek help for it. This gives meaning for us and helps understand the how and why. For awhile it gave us a place to blame. That was unproductive. Now, it just is, and a way to understand.
My life is not what I anticipated. I make more money and am in the top .02% of my profession. This I did not expect. My marriage is better than I ever thought marriage could be and she is a source of unending joy to me. My sons. My sons. My sons are wonder and horror. Darkness and light. Calm and chaos. They make me stronger. They make weaker. They are joy and despair. But Yin and Yang dance in a circle. They have taught me that.
Life is more, and less, than I expected. I thank them for that.
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I dont know anything about aspergers, but my closest friend is bipolar. Things were tough for him through high school- but now that he has the right meds he's a support for other youth going thru the same thing and a public speaker at schools.. and only 25!
Not everyone is destined to be what is thought of as successful by everyone.. but i think we all have our place.. and i think that you'll find that they both find their passions and make huge contributions in their lives, thanks to your support. so.. i think you are doing your best and thats what matters. but I am only gaging that by the way that you write.. and who am i? some random internet person..
anyway, thanks so much for giving your love to my latest set!!