Tag Archives: Autism


Good news! I got to be in a documentary recently. The filmmakers are in the process of making new versions of the video and we plan to collaborate on a full-length version in the near future. Enjoy!


When I was in Middle School, I suffered a great deal of depression to the point in which I considered suicide multiple times. Thanks to the intervention and support of my parents, teachers, and therapist, I was able to overcome this depression and quelled any further thoughts about suicide. I am aware that depression can be a common symptom of being autistic, but I thought the suicide part was just something I had to deal with. Then the other day, I met a mother of an autistic boy who had the same troubled thoughts I had and I realized that more autistic people may have had suicidal thoughts like me and this boy. Fortunately, I do not have such dark thoughts anymore. Now, I acknowledge that life is worth living and I can accomplish much if I live long enough.


The other day, I met a mother of an autistic boy who suffered from depression and even contemplated suicide. I saw some similarities between myself and this boy so I recommended my therapist to this woman, who was desperately searching for someone who could help her son control his condition. Having gone through many of the struggles to mother described myself, I thought this would be a good way to contribute to the autistic community.


As a writer with a constantly active imagination, I have always been daydreaming. My earliest daydreams were the strangest I ever had and I can recall at least two of them. First, I thought getting shot turned you into a monkey. One bullet and your suddenly a chimpanzee. Second, I envisioned a series of stop-motion animation images that involve a toothless wolf climbing a pine tree. Then a guy who looks like one of the elves from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer looks up and his right eyeball pops out of its socket. Instead of blood, water poured out of the guy’s empty eye socket. As this happens, the guy yells, “Let go!” This was when I was very young, which was when my imagination was at its most raw and untamed. In such a state, I imagined outrageous things that did not make sense even to me. As I grew older, I was able to better envision my daydreams and create my stories accordingly.


I saw on the news that an autistic child was abused at a school by a teacher and an aide. The teacher and aide were trained to diffuse situations like this, but they discarded their training and just did whatever they wanted out of frustration. The kid was only seven years old and had no control over his condition and yet these women treated him like a rabid animal. To make matters worse, the two women were given paid leave and no prosecutions were made against them. This infuriates me beyond words because the law is not doing its job to inflict justice on two assailants who assaulted a defenseless autistic child.

After watching this video, I also noticed that some people who viewed the video were making VERY offensive comments about autistic people in general. One said that this child should have been tased and put in solitary confinement for half a day. Another said that the child should have been executed on sight simply because he was autistic. Both of these comments make me very disappointed and furious towards individuals who say such things about people who share my condition. I am autistic so should I be tased and executed too? Because several people think this way, I am concerned about the future of my autistic brothers and sisters. What if they become targets for hate crimes? The very thought frightens me greatly.

Something very similar to this incident happened to me when I was one or two years younger than this child. My parents put me in a day care center, but the people in charge there had no skill or experience in dealing with an autistic child. One day I lost control of my motor functions and emotions. Then they grabbed me by my arms and legs, dragged me down the hall, and locked me in a closet for the rest of the day. When my parents found out, they got me out immediately. I remember my mother was crying and begging me for forgiveness while my father was ready to inflict frontier justice on the women who harmed me. After this incident, my parents became much more careful when it comes to finding people to help me with my condition. The two women thought they were teaching me a lesson, but the only lesson they were teaching me was how to hate and it left deep scars in my mind.