en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en en
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: DREAM A BIG DREAM
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: THE AGE OF IGNORANCE
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: NICE WORK IF YOU CAN GET IT
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-nice-work-if-you-can-get-it <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_8"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-nice-work-if-you-can-get-it&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20NICE%20WORK%20IF%20YOU%20CAN%20GET%20IT"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/12005"> Febuary 2012 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/1595">careers</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13549">Job</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13550">Bias</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13551">Aspiritech</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13552">Media Access Office</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13553">Employment Development Department</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13554">Voices of Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img width="131" height="175" vspace="6" hspace="6" border="1" align="left" alt="" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> February 16, 2012 (San Diego) – A few years ago I wrote an essay that was published in the anthology book <em>Voices of Autism</em>. I was unaware of the significance until I saw how impressed my college professors, friends, and family were. Shortly after, I was <a href="http://calstate.fullerton.edu/news/inside/2008/lafferty.html" rel="nofollow">featured in a piece</a> by my alma mater.</p> <p> </p> <p> My film studies professor, who was responsible for helping me land this writing opportunity, suggested I put it on my resume. I was thrilled. At the time I was hoping to become a screenwriter. Even though it wasn’t a screenplay or a work of fiction, at least I had a solid writing sample. After all, it’s insanely difficult for anybody to get published in a book today and get paid for it.</p> <p> </p> <p> During my last semester at college I had to do an internship with an approved entertainment industry company. Before I could begin, the university’s Career Center had to approve my cover letter and resume. Thinking it would help me stand out from the crowd, I mentioned the essay in both.</p> <p> </p> <p> My advisor, who specialized in entertainment careers, wrote back saying that the part about the essay was well written. However, I became disheartened when she said it had to be left off the cover letter. Even though people aren’t supposed to prejudge, they do and she warned that they would “shy away.” She advised me to find something that would present me in a positive light. I was, however, allowed to mention the essay in the resume.</p> <p> </p> <p> I was stunned and disappointed. When I read that e-mail it was the first time I truly realized the scope of the negative perception most people have of Autism. I eventually secured an internship, but to this day I can’t stop thinking her e-mail.</p> <p> </p> <p> Of course, not all companies and industries are prejudiced. Last year I read about a software company called <a href="http://www.usatoday.com/money/smallbusiness/story/2011-09-24/autism-employment/50521438/1" rel="nofollow">Aspiritech</a> that embraces neurodiversity by hiring only people with Autism and Aspergers. While exploring new career opportunities last year, I happened upon the <a href="http://www.edd.ca.gov/Jobs_and_Training/Media_Access_Office.htm" rel="nofollow">Media Access Office</a>, a program by California’s Employment Development Department that helps people with mental and physical disabilities find entertainment industry jobs, among other things.</p> <p> </p> <p> But not every Autistic person wants to work in the technology sector. Some wouldn’t even benefit from it or even be good at it. I love computers, but I don’t have the skills and technical know-how to work with them or with software. I could learn the skills, but a career in this field would be unsatisfying for me.</p> <p> </p> <p> Last year I became a certified paralegal. I chose this career path for two reasons. For starters, I’ve always had an interest in the law. This interest originated in my United States government class during my senior year in high school. What fascinated me the most were landmark Supreme Court cases like <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gideon_v._wainright" rel="nofollow">Gideon v. Wainwright</a> and <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Miranda_v._arizona" rel="nofollow">Miranda v. Arizona</a>. This interest was cemented in my second semester of community college, when I took a course in Administration of Justice. Eight years later, it remains one of the few college general education courses in which I’ve fully retained what I learned.</p> <p> </p> <p> The second reason is because the required job skills are those that I’m not only good at, but also enjoy doing. I love to write, and as a paralegal I would be doing a lot of it. There’s not a day that goes by that I do research for fun, whether it be about history, film, television, music, or any topic that catches my fancy. Research is a major task of a paralegal. I would be spending a great deal of time researching relevant case law or statutes to aid in helping my supervising attorney’s cases. Finally, reading has always been a favorite pastime of mine ever since Kindergarten. Paralegals do a lot of that, too.</p> <p> </p> <p> Now that I’m looking for work as a paralegal, that e-mail from my career advisor three years ago burns now more than ever. A lot of the time people would never guess that I’m Autistic. I tend to “hide” it pretty well. I can practice voice modulation, eye contact, enthusiasm, and other traits that can make me look good.</p> <p> </p> <p> Unfortunately, there comes a point where I’m no longer myself, but someone else. Other times hidden negative traits can “bleed.” The interviewer cannot ask me if I have a learning disability or why I act “differently”; doing so would result in federal fines of thousands of dollars. They can, however, make unfair assumptions. Appearances are everything in a job interview and I’m not merely talking about dress and cleanliness. For Autistic people like myself, there are struggles with maintaining consistent eye contact, processing thought (it takes a lot of it whenever I form sentences, but that’s a topic for another column), and personality (enthusiasm and outgoingness is hard for me to externally express).</p> <p> </p> <p> That’s the problem with job interviews for Autistic people. On the outside I look unenthused, boring, and lacking a personality. My body language and facial expressions usually indicate someone who isn’t necessarily incompetent, but is someone who would be unable to perform his duties adequately.</p> <p> </p> <p> Appearances can be very deceiving, though. On the outside I may look blank-faced and lacking confidence. On the inside, I’m full of emotion and happiness. I possess an outstanding visual memory that never ceases to impress people; one favorite Lafferty Family story is the time I memorized – at age seven – all fifty states, their capitals, and their nicknames in the span of two to three days. Ever since elementary school, family, friends, and teachers alike have commented to me how well I write. I attribute this to being a voracious reader growing up.</p> <p> </p> <p> My career center advisor at Cal State, Fullerton said companies prejudge, even though they won’t admit it. This is a big mistake. There’s a huge difference between social deficiencies and job deficiencies. The two don’t always correlate. Just because someone looks “different” or doesn’t look “normal” doesn’t mean they’re incompetent or won’t be able to do their job well.</p> <p> </p> <p> Right now I’m looking to volunteer at a law firm to gain experience. It takes a lot of courage for me to drop off a cover letter and resume at a law office and even more to follow up. A million things run through my head. I want to look like I want to work. I need to look confident. But at what point does expressing these traits turns into contorting myself to fit other people’s preconceived notions of normal human behavior? There is no easy answer to that question. All I know is I need to do what I have to do to get a job and navigate the best I can the choppy seas of job searching.</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Brian Lafferty is an adult living with High-Functioning Autism in Escondido. He graduated from Cal State Fullerton with a B.A. in Radio-TV-Film, and is also the film critic for East County Magazine. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.</strong><br />  </p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_7"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-nice-work-if-you-can-get-it&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20NICE%20WORK%20IF%20YOU%20CAN%20GET%20IT"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Sat, 18 Feb 2012 00:49:27 +0000 Brian 8738 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-nice-work-if-you-can-get-it#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: DIAGNOSIS MURDER
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-diagnosis-murder <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_10"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-diagnosis-murder&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20DIAGNOSIS%20MURDER"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/12005"> Febuary 2012 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8222">The Winston School</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/13162">Aspergers</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img hspace="6" height="175" border="1" align="left" width="131" vspace="6" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" alt="" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p>February 2, 2012 (San Diego) – I recently read a <a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2012/01/20/health/research/new-autism-definition-would-exclude-many-study-suggests.html?_r=1&amp;pagewanted=all&amp;src=ISMR_AP_LO_MST_FB" rel="nofollow">New York Times article</a> that every Autistic and Asperger’s person, and their families and friends, should read. It’s troubling to say the least. A panel appointed by the American Psychiatric Association is looking to redefine Autism for its newest edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. They propose lumping most Autistic people into one category, among other things.</p> <p>Notice I said “most.” By their logic, high-functioning Autistic people would no longer be Autistic.</p> <p><a href="http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2012/01/20/health/20autism.html" rel="nofollow">The proposal</a> involves narrowing the number of social deficits and repetitive behaviors. Asperger syndrome and other related Autism disorders such as “pervasive developmental disorder, not otherwise specified” would be eliminated. My sister, father, and I agreed that I’d likely be affected by this new definition.</p> <p>So why are they rewriting the criteria for diagnosing Autism? Some studies say 1 in 110 children are diagnosed with the disorder. So by narrowing the criteria and weeding out those who are high-functioning, or have Asperger's, it would cut down on the number of diagnoses.</p> <p>This is not only wrong it’s dangerous. While I don’t dispute that Autism diagnoses are high, it is not a compelling reason to redefine Autism.</p> <p>Reading this article brought back a memory from college. A few of my classmates were discussing mental disabilities and how they thought too many people take antidepressants when they didn’t need to. I disagreed and added that I’m Autistic.</p> <p>One of the classmates responded with something I took personally. He meant well, and there was no malicious intent on his part, but he shouldn’t have said what he said. He told me too many people were being diagnosed with Autism and that whoever diagnosed me could have been wrong.</p> <p>It was the first time somebody questioned my disability. I immediately defended my Autism and after a minute of polite debate, the matter was dropped and never brought up again.</p> <p>Reading the <em>New York Times</em> article made me feel as much threatened as I was during that incident. I wonder how much personal experience this panel has had with high-functioning Autistic people. I want to know if they’re familiar with the struggles Autistic people and their families have gone through and will go through. Have they thoroughly considered the possible financial and social ramifications of such a huge decision?</p> <p>Have they even considered that people can start out as low functioning, but through therapy can be high functioning? When I was little I would have easily been diagnosed under the currently proposed definition of Autism. Throughout elementary school I had difficulty with verbal expression. Verbal communication with my teachers was hard because I knew what I wanted to say but I couldn’t get it out.</p> <p>I had difficulty making friends because I simply didn’t know how or understand what friendship was. The only way I had a friend was if somebody wanted to be my friend, and very few kids wanted to.</p> <p>Another criteria I would satisfy under the new definition is hyper-reactivity to sensory input in environment. Examples include adverse responses to specific sounds or smells. In the summer of 1993, when I was seven years old, my family and I went to Yellowstone Park. I didn’t know which was worse at the time: the foul odor of sulfur or the loud booms of the geysers. I couldn’t cover both my ears and my nose. I was so scared and miserable I stayed in the van playing my Game Boy while the rest of my family stayed out to watch Old Faithful.</p> <p>In middle and high school, bullies mocked my “strange” voice. It was infuriating. I couldn’t help the way I spoke, and I was going through puberty at the time. Today I do talk a little “funny” to some extent. When it counts, I’m forced to make myself sound as “normal” as I can.</p> <p>I’ve come a long, long way since then, thanks to years and years of therapy. I have little trouble starting conversations, my eye contact is vastly improved, I don’t have extreme reactions to sounds or smells (<a href="http://eastcountymagazine.org/node/6304" rel="nofollow">except with balloons</a>), and I’ve made a lot of friends in college and in my job as a film critic.</p> <p>I’m not saying I’m cured. Remnants of my childhood symptoms remain and always will. Just because somebody is high functioning doesn’t mean that person doesn’t have issues that hold him back. I still play with my pens and pencils, and sometimes I can’t make eye contact. I struggle with navigating conversations. Sometimes I blurt out random things without knowing it. I never know when a conversation topic ends, although virtually everyone else has the ability to determine it.</p> <p>As an adult, I’ve struggled to get a job. I look “different.” I can only hide it so much. Federal law prohibits interviewers from asking about disabilities. They can, however, make unfair assumptions. This is one reason why a job interview isn’t the best way to determine whether an individual should be hired. An Autistic person can be fully capable of fulfilling his job duties, but if he doesn’t look “normal” at an interview, he won’t get the job.</p> <p>When someone tells me that I’m not Autistic, it makes me mad. I’ve dealt with so much crap in my life, it’s not even funny. Some people get put off or turned off by my quirks and behaviors that I’ve long ago accepted I can’t help.</p> <p>At the same time, I’ve accomplished so much. Student body president in high school, graduating cum laude in college, etc. Now a panel of experts wants to tell me – after everything I’ve been through and the struggles I’ve faced to succeed in these endeavors – that I’m not Autistic? That my achievements are great, but since I’m not Autistic, they’re not as remarkable or inspirational to others since I’m more “normal” in their eyes?</p> <p>School districts, a lot of which are strapped for cash, can deny services to kids who need them. If the new proposed diagnosis criteria were to be put in place when I was in middle school, when I was higher-functioning, the school district could have refused to provide funding for me to attend The Winston School. Were it not for The Winston School, I would have probably been a huge failure at school and in life.</p> <p>For as long as Autism has been known, it’s gotten a really bad reputation. I believe the average person tends to lump high-functioning Autistics like myself with the very low-functioning. By consolidating most Autistic people into one category, and excluding those who are high-functioning or have Asperger’s, it would worsen this perception and give Autistic people an even more negative image, with no chance of recovery.</p> <p>But the worst aspect is the potential identity crisis. If I’m not Autistic, what am I? Eccentric? It’s taken me years to embrace my Autism. It’s a way of life. It’s who I am. I love being Autistic and that is the truth. I’d rather be referred to by name rather than a label. But if people must label me, I’d rather be labeled as Autistic than eccentric.</p> <p> <br /> <strong>Brian Lafferty is a young adult living with Autism. He graduated from California State University, Fullerton with a degree in Radio/TV/Film and is also the film critic for East County Magazine. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="https://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.</strong><br />  </p> <p> </p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_9"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-diagnosis-murder&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20DIAGNOSIS%20MURDER"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Fri, 03 Feb 2012 00:42:28 +0000 Brian 8603 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-diagnosis-murder#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: GOOD GRIEF
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-good-grief <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_12"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-good-grief&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GOOD%20GRIEF"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/6829"> December 2011 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img hspace="6" height="175" width="131" vspace="6" border="1" align="left" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" alt="" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>This is the last of a four-part series on loss and grief from an Autistic person’s point of view.</strong></p> <p> </p> <p> December 16, 2011 (San Diego) – It’s now been over a year since Mom died. It’s unbelievable how fast those 365 days have come and gone. As I sit and write this, I think a lot about what happened during those 365 days. More importantly, I think about what I’ve accomplished.</p> <p> </p> <p> The funeral took place on Thursday, December 2. It was a beautiful ceremony. I saw people I hadn’t seen for as long as almost twenty years. Mom had touched the lives of all she knew and I sensed that well in all the people who attended the rosary and the funeral.</p> <p> </p> <p> Oddly enough, I didn’t cry. At my Grandpa Bill’s funeral in 2005, tears streaked endlessly down my cheeks. At Mom’s funeral, I felt sad but not a single tear was shed. I’ve tried to figure out why, but I guess it all boils down to the fact that there isn’t an answer to every question. Still, I sometimes wish I did cry. I don’t know why, but I do.</p> <p> </p> <p> The following month was, as the Counting Crows song goes, a long December. I got back to reviewing films. It helped lots that my colleagues were very supportive. But it was a rough time, to say the very least. I was depressed as heck and on Christmas day I had to force myself out of bed.</p> <p> </p> <p> On that night, I was crying as I turned off my bedroom light and went to bed. I looked up and asked Mom, “How can I live my life if you’re not in it?” After a bit of sobbing, my eyes slowly closed and I went to sleep.</p> <p> </p> <p> The next morning I felt different. I felt like a new man. I was no longer sad, and getting out of bed was a cinch. To this day I believe Mom heard me. I think she spoke to me while I was sleeping. As I’ve said before, Mom always had a way of saying things in a way that made me feel better. I will never know what she told me, but it was as soothing and comforting as anything she would have said to me if she were alive.</p> <p> </p> <p> I knew that these newfound positive feelings were going to be temporary. They left me some time to think about my future. I was (and still am) living at home with my Dad. Dad just turned sixty-five and I wouldn’t be able to live with him forever. I had to get a full-time job.</p> <p> </p> <p> That’s why I decided to become a paralegal. I have always had an interest in the law, an interest that dates back to my second semester of community college; I took a class on criminal justice.</p> <p> </p> <p> Becoming a paralegal meant I had to be certified. That meant I had to go back to school. I enrolled in an online paralegal certificate program. I started in March and I finished the program in September. The more time I dedicated to getting certified, the more I knew I found my calling.</p> <p> </p> <p> The house felt empty without Mom in it. I felt it most on days Dad worked, especially when he worked twelve-hour days. Thank goodness I have wonderful neighbors whose houses I can go to and a wonderful second family in Rancho Peñasquitos, the suburb I grew up in.</p> <p> </p> <p> This feeling of emptiness added up. That feeling of greatness following Christmas eventually dissipated and I had another hump of depression to climb over. This time I was well prepared. I took a much-needed vacation, which afforded me the best opportunity to grieve.</p> <p> </p> <p> Grieving for me was more subconscious than conscious. There was never a time when I said to myself, “I’m going to spend the day grieving for Mom.” I mostly hung out with close friends and worked diligently on my paralegal certificate coursework. When Dad wasn’t home, I would sit idle on the family room couch thinking a lot.</p> <p> </p> <p> It was during this time that I somehow began shifting my memories of Mom from the negative ones to the positive ones. I think being alone and on vacation gave me a lot of strength. This strength was solidified during a vacation to see my aunt, uncle, and cousin in Sacramento. When I returned home, I was no longer feeling sad most of the time.</p> <p> </p> <p> That’s not to say I don’t ever feel sad now. There are days when I briefly feel sorrow. But I am no longer mired in depression and I feel so strong and confident that even a recent bout with bronchitis couldn’t break me.</p> <p> </p> <p> (This case of bronchitis, which began the day after my birthday and the worst of it lasting for a week, is the reason for the recent lack of film reviews and the delay of this piece. I’m happy to say I’m 100% recovered)</p> <p> </p> <p> When I look back on the year following Mom’s death, I’m amazed at how much I’ve accomplished during this trying time. My proudest achievement is my paralegal certification. Another achievement is the positive changes to my physical health. Since August I’ve lost almost thirty pounds (although ten of those pounds were lost due to the bronchitis).</p> <p> </p> <p> I kept noting to myself how, as the anniversary approached, I wasn’t feeling depressed or sad. I realized just now that a lot of it is the weight loss. It is true that if you feel good physically, you’ll feel good emotionally.</p> <p> </p> <p> I’ve made a lot of progress and I wish Mom were here to see it. I know she’s watching somewhere, but it’s not the same. I do know that wherever she is, she’s proud of me and she loves me very much. I can feel it in my heart.</p> <p> </p> <p> I love you, Mom. I always will.</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Brian Lafferty is a young adult living with Autism. He graduated cum laude from California State University, Fullerton in 2009 with a degree in Radio/TV/Film. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.</strong><br />  </p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_11"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-good-grief&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GOOD%20GRIEF"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Tue, 13 Dec 2011 23:28:46 +0000 Brian 8161 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-good-grief#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: GOODBYE, FAREWELL, AND AMEN
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-goodbye-farewell-and-amen <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_14"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-goodbye-farewell-and-amen&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GOODBYE%2C%20FAREWELL%2C%20AND%20AMEN"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/6828"> November 2011 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img width="131" vspace="6" hspace="6" height="175" border="1" align="left" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" alt="" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Last year I lost my mother to breast cancer. This column is the third of a four-part series about loss and grief from an Autistic’s perspective.</strong></p> <p> </p> <p> November 10, 2011 (San Diego) – I’m an optimist. I’m not a Lloyd Dobler optimist, but I rarely get pessimistic. When Mom fell ill it was emotionally hard for me to see her sick every day. But I didn’t dwell on the worst-case scenario. I refused to believe the worst-case scenario would even occur. Mom was strong. I believed she would beat it.</p> <p> </p> <p> During October and November of last year, I noticed she didn’t get any better, but she didn’t get any worse. I kept thinking, “Her IV treatments just take time.”</p> <p> </p> <p> This optimism was shattered around this time last year. It started innocuously enough when Mom got a little frustrated trying to organize some letters for a nonprofit organization she and Dad volunteered for. Pretty soon she was in a lot of pain. She had been in pain for the previous two months. This pain, however, was searing. She couldn’t concentrate and the letters needed to be organized and mailed on that day.</p> <p> </p> <p> She called our neighbor from across the street and a very nice family friend to come over and help. Our next-door neighbor’s daughter also volunteered to assist. Mom was in tears. What troubled me was that she almost never cried. I was scared. I could see that she was hurting like she never was before. My mind acts like an encyclopedia where I can access information. My mental encyclopedia was in disarray as I tried to figure out what was happening, but I had no idea what to do.</p> <p> </p> <p> With a lot of help she got the letters organized and mailed. However, she was still hurting so badly she could barely move. She went to her bed. Dad came home from work early and took her to the hospital. My oldest sister and her friend came over a short while later to be with me.</p> <p> </p> <p> I watched all of this unfold with a combination of confusion, fear, and denial. My mind had no idea how to process it. I felt like I was in a dream. When I dream, I often feel like I’m living a second life in my mind while I sleep. My dreams are extremely vivid and feel so real that I’m aware of the surrealism that occupies them. I know that what’s happening isn’t really happening, but it feels so darn real.</p> <p> </p> <p> That is what that afternoon felt like. Mom seemed so (healthy) that morning and in a span of a few hours she was in the hospital and the prognosis wasn’t good. It was the first time that I realized she wouldn’t make it.</p> <p> </p> <p> At that point two of my sisters and their families came down from Northern California and Colorado. My mom’s extended family also arrived. I was so happy they all came because of what I’d been through living mostly alone with Mom (My sisters came from out of town for a week or two to help and my Mom’s friends and family had dinner with us from time to time). I needed the house to be full.</p> <p> </p> <p> Late one evening my sisters and I drove to the hospital. We learned that Mom didn’t have very long to live. My sisters and I sat around her bed as she told us how she felt about us. I don’t remember much what she told me in front of the sisters. I wish I could. Maybe it’s because I somehow blocked out that portion because it was so painful.</p> <p> </p> <p> After my sisters left the room, I stuck around. My cheeks were streaked with tears. Mom always had a way of saying things in a way that made me feel better. She told me something I will never, ever forget.</p> <p> </p> <p> In her soft, slurred voice, she recalled how, when I was a baby, she didn’t know what to do. When I was very little, the doctors told her I had slim to none chances of functioning in society. She refused to accept that.</p> <p> </p> <p> One night she prayed to God for a miracle. She said she’d do anything if God would provide a miracle for me.</p> <p> </p> <p> Over the years the miracles turned up in the form of numerous people and institutions. From my wonderful third grade teacher, to my advocate in middle school, to The Winston School, it seemed that God had answered her prayers.</p> <p> </p> <p> Mom kept up her end of the deal. She worked tirelessly with me. She fought for me. Her methods of getting me to communicate and function would now be called intervention. What’s most remarkable is that up until I was eleven I wasn’t diagnosed with Autism. Today many parents of Autistic children have an advantage my mother didn’t have: greater knowledge and effective treatment of Autism.</p> <p> </p> <p> Mom came home a few days before Thanksgiving. Her condition worsened. On her last day, November 26, she was no longer herself. She couldn’t speak or move. She could only breathe.</p> <p> </p> <p> The last time I saw her alive I buckled. I looked at her, broke down crying, and left the room. This was not the Mom that I hugged for five minutes when I was little, or took me to Disneyland, or celebrated my birthdays with. She was a shadow of her former self.</p> <p> </p> <p> Around 5:30 P.M. my sisters came into my room. They informed me that Mom stopped breathing. Her body was taken to a mortuary where she would be cremated.</p> <p> </p> <p> Many people say all good things must come to an end. What’s often overlooked is the inverse, which is this too shall pass. I’m still grieving, but things are really looking up for me almost a year later. I just had to navigate the rough waters of the following winter and spring, which would be the most grueling and trying period of my life.</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Brian Lafferty is a young adult with High-Functioning Autism currently living in Escondido. He graduated cum laude from California State University, Fullerton with a degree in Radio/TV/Film and is also the film critic for East County Magazine. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.</strong><br />  </p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_13"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-goodbye-farewell-and-amen&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GOODBYE%2C%20FAREWELL%2C%20AND%20AMEN"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Wed, 09 Nov 2011 09:09:03 +0000 Brian 7830 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-goodbye-farewell-and-amen#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: THE LONG, COLD AUTUMN
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-long-cold-autumn <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_16"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-long-cold-autumn&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20THE%20LONG%2C%20COLD%20AUTUMN"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/6827"> October 2011 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/1715">Breast Cancer</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/5521">cancer</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8222">The Winston School</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/9651">High-Functioning Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img width="131" vspace="6" hspace="6" height="175" border="1" align="left" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" alt="" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Last year I lost my mother to breast cancer. This column is the second of a four-part series about loss and grief from an Autistic’s perspective.</strong></p> <p> </p> <p> October 27, 2011 (San Diego) – At my alma mater, The Winston School, I was blessed to have a fine P.E. teacher and softball coach. On one of my toughest days he gave me a piece of sage advice. He told me, “If you worry that something bad is going to happen, chances are it’s not going to happen.”</p> <p> </p> <p> This advice would prove time and again to be true. Granted it wasn’t true all of the time, but when my mind is inclined to worry about something, I remember what my P.E. teacher said. Nine times out of ten, nothing bad happens and life goes on.</p> <p> </p> <p> This dictum would be put to the ultimate test, however, when I learned Mom had cancer. I remember the day well and it’s hard to believe it’s been over a year. We planned to go to the screening of <a href="http://www.eastcountymagazine.org/node/4134" rel="nofollow">Going the Distance</a>. I knew she liked romantic comedies and it looked like something she’d enjoy. As I grabbed the car keys, I asked if she was ready.</p> <p> </p> <p> I remember her face. I could tell something was wrong. Her eyes looked a slight bit worried. At first she didn’t know what to tell me and how to say it, but she found a way. She said she was awaiting a phone call. I asked why. She said she might have breast cancer. She explained that while on our vacation only a week or so ago she discovered something on her breast that raised some red flags. She needed to talk to the doctor and expected to hear from him that evening.</p> <p> </p> <p> As she told me all of this I could only stand there simply stunned. I wound up having a great time at the <a href="http://www.eastcountymagazine.org/node/4134" rel="nofollow">Going the Distance</a> screening; it turned out to be the best American romantic comedy of 2010 by far.</p> <p> </p> <p> But over the next few days I was consumed with fear. This was totally surreal. When it comes to a loved one dying, you will never have enough time no matter how old you are. At the age of twenty-four, I certainly wasn’t ready to lose her. Like any person in my position I asked myself over and over again, “Why?” I kept thinking, “This can’t be happening! This shouldn’t be happening!”</p> <p> </p> <p> Mom had surgery in early September. The prognosis at the time was good. The cancer didn’t seem to spread. She went home after a few days and was expected to begin chemotherapy treatments in a few weeks.</p> <p> </p> <p> During the month of September my sisters decided to give her a gift. They asked all of our friends to write her a letter. These letters would be collected in a book, which would then be presented to Mom over a family dinner.</p> <p> </p> <p> I don’t have a lot of regrets in my life. But one of my worst ones was missing that family dinner. I attended the screening of <a href="http://www.eastcountymagazine.org/node/4404" rel="nofollow">Buried</a>, instead. Although I enjoyed it immensely (it was one of those films that had to be seen in the theater to fully appreciate it), over the last two months I realized it was against my better judgment.</p> <p> </p> <p> There’s no sense in dwelling on it. Unless someone discovers the Flux Capacitor, I can’t change what happened. I did, however make a vow: If any similar conflict should present itself in the future, I would forego the screening and spend the time with my family instead.</p> <p> </p> <p> In Mid-October, Mom had a setback while she and Dad visited some friends in Palm Springs. She had to go to the hospital. After spending over a week up there, and after what sounded over the phone like an endless battery of tests, she was diagnosed with an infection. She returned home to receive IV treatments that would be administered by Dad, my sisters, and the neighbor from across the street.</p> <p> </p> <p> The next few weeks were hard on me. It was difficult enough spending most of the week alone while Mom was in the hospital in Palm Springs (Dad briefly came down, then went back up). Now with Dad mostly working, it was just Mom and I a lot of the time, except when someone came for her infusions. Her friends did drive up often to have dinner with us and for that I was very grateful.</p> <p> </p> <p> I can tell you it’s tough living at home with a sick loved one. Mom was always in pain. I could see it in the way she walked, talked, and did things around the house. My sisters and I would keep telling her not to move around a lot or do any chores but there was no stopping her; it was in her nature.</p> <p> </p> <p> She was in pain but she was very stoic. She never complained. She was very upbeat and positive. She even taught me a few things such as how to use the carpet shampooer. Now when I shampoo the carpets, I remember that day.</p> <p> </p> <p> Nine times out of ten my P.E. teacher’s advice about not worrying about bad stuff happening is true. But as I would painfully find out, there will be at some point that one time out of ten when it isn’t true. This exception would, over the winter and spring, be surreal, grueling, and soul sucking all at once.</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Brian Lafferty is a young adult with High-Functioning Autism currently living in Escondido. He graduated cum laude from California State University, Fullerton with a degree in Radio/TV/Film and is also the film critic for East County Magazine. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.<br /> </strong></p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_15"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-long-cold-autumn&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20THE%20LONG%2C%20COLD%20AUTUMN"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Wed, 26 Oct 2011 21:24:24 +0000 Brian 7690 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-long-cold-autumn#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: LIFE WITH MOTHER
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-life-mother <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_18"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-life-mother&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20LIFE%20WITH%20MOTHER"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/6827"> October 2011 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/1717">Breast Cancer Awareness Month</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2536">Breast Cancer Awareness</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img width="131" vspace="6" hspace="6" height="175" border="1" align="left" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" alt="" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> October 13, 2011 (San Diego) – When I was little I would have an occasional paralyzing fear that my mom and dad were going to die too soon. I don’t know why I had this fear. All I know is it would keep me up at night and it made me cry.</p> <p> </p> <!--break--><p> Every time this fear would envelop me – usually at bedtime – I’d come downstairs in tears. Mom always had a way of saying things in a way that made me feel better. She assured me that by the time she would die I wouldn’t be dependent on her. She’d hug me, kiss me, then send me up to bed and things would be much better.</p> <p> </p> <p> The years passed and by the time I was in high school the fears stopped. But in the end, these fears would prove to not be unfounded. On November 26 of last year she succumbed to an aggressive and invasive form of breast cancer. I was devastated. I’m still grieving and I likely always will. She won’t be around for my wedding, she won’t be able to hold my grandchildren, and despite having 160 friends on Facebook, I miss her commenting on and liking my status updates.</p> <p> </p> <p> The purpose of this column is to tell you about life from an Autistic person’s point of view. In addition, October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Starting today and through November I want to share with you my personal experience of losing my mother from my Autistic perspective.</p> <p> </p> <p> Right away my mother noticed I was “different.” She could see that my speech wasn’t developing at the same rate as my sisters’. She knew I was intelligent and could read, but my social skills left way too much to be desired. I was easily distracted and the utmost patience was required to keep my attention focused; she once told one of my therapists how a psychologist tried to get me to read out loud what was written on a set of cards. The problem was the posters on the walls distracted me.</p> <p> </p> <p> My earliest memories of mother are times when I felt her love for me. One mostly vivid memory took place when I was around five years old. She was sitting on the sofa. I came over, sat on her lap, and hugged her. We may have talked but I don’t remember what was said. But we hugged each other for at least five minutes.</p> <p> </p> <p> This is the most precious memory I have of her because it speaks volumes about how much she loved me and how much I could read it. As a child I had difficulty reading people’s faces, emotions, and body language. Mom discovered that when she tried to play peek-a-boo only to find me gazing blankly in return. I didn’t understand why she was covering her face with her hands, then quickly pulling them away.</p> <p> </p> <p> One time she played a little game with me. She asked me who I was. I couldn’t answer. She picked me up, took me to the bathroom mirror and I immediately said with glee that was me.</p> <p> </p> <p> My last great memory of her occurred during a vacation I took with her in mid-August last year. We took a trip to Northern California to see my sister and her family, my maternal grandfather, my paternal grandfather, and my aunt, uncle and cousin. It was a fun trip and a great bonding experience. We spent the eight-hour ride home listening to all of the Beatles’ albums in chronological order; The Beatles were her favorite band.</p> <p> </p> <p> It was during that vacation that she discovered something was wrong. The months that followed would be the most challenging time of my life.</p> <p> </p> <p><em><br /> Brian Lafferty is a young adult with High-Functioning Autism currently living in Escondido. He graduated cum laude from California State University, Fullerton with a degree in Radio/TV/Film and is also the film critic for East County Magazine. He can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: </em><a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff"><em>@BrianLaff</em></a><em>.</em><br />  </p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_17"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-life-mother&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20LIFE%20WITH%20MOTHER"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Wed, 12 Oct 2011 02:13:49 +0000 Brian 7560 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-life-mother#comments
LIFE ON THE AUTISM SPECTRUM: GREAT EXCITATIONS
https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-great-excitations <span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_20"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-great-excitations&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GREAT%20EXCITATIONS"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> <div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-4 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/6825"> August 2011 Articles</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-taxonomy-vocabulary-5 field-type-taxonomy-term-reference field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><ul class="field-items"><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/2278">Brian Lafferty</a></li><li class="field-item odd"><a href="/taxonomy/term/8221">Autism</a></li><li class="field-item even"><a href="/taxonomy/term/9651">High-Functioning Autism</a></li></ul></div><div class="field field-name-body field-type-text-with-summary field-label-hidden view-mode-rss"><div class="field-items"><div class="field-item even"><p><img width="131" height="175" vspace="6" hspace="6" border="1" align="left" alt="" src="http://eastcountymagazine.org/sites/eastcountymagazine.org/files/u2605/P1010231.jpg" />By Brian Lafferty</p> <p> </p> <p> August 17, 2011 (San Diego) -- I’m sure many of you are wondering about the absence of columns. I feel it’s required of me to explain.</p> <p> </p> <p> As I’ve mentioned previously, I lost my mother last November from aggressive and invasive breast cancer. It was so aggressive that doctors believed that by the time she discovered something was wrong it was already too late.</p> <p> </p> <p> Her death hit me hard. I tried to go about my normal business writing film criticism and this column. It soon became increasingly difficult to balance my work and my grief.</p> <p> </p> <p> Part of me wanted to continue writing. Soon another part of me said I needed a breather. At the end of June, the latter became the most sensible thing to do. I’ve received nothing but support and positive feedback since I launched this column. It makes me happy that there are a lot of people out there who enjoy reading it. I wanted to keep it going. But there are times when a person needs to stop, take stock of everything in his life, and regroup.</p> <p> </p> <p> That is why I decided to take a vacation last month. And you know what? Taking this month-long vacation was the best thing I could have done for myself this year.</p> <p> </p> <p> For one thing, I had a lot of time to grieve. I thought a lot about Mom. Up until this month, I kept remembering her when she was sick. Even though everything happened very quickly (she was diagnosed in September), seeing her every day took its toll on me after a while. This was a difficult time for me because I sensed that she was in some degree of pain. I felt helpless.</p> <p> </p> <p> But that’s not how I remember her these days. Ever since my vacation, I now tend to remember her the way she was before. I recall with fondness the times when I was little, how I would sit on her lap and we’d hug for at least five minutes. When my birthday rolls around (she died the day before I turned 25) you can bet it’ll be spent remembering when she’d bake a nice homemade birthday cake, or when she’d take me to Disneyland or out to my favorite restaurants to celebrate.</p> <p> </p> <p> That’s the Mom I remember now. It’s no longer a case of having to force myself to do it. It comes naturally.</p> <p> </p> <p> Don’t get me wrong. My mind does sometimes drift back to the times when she was ill. But now when my mind has those inclinations (and there aren’t a lot of them), I can easily shift it to the positives.</p> <p> </p> <p> Taking the month off also allowed me to think about my current situation, namely my health. I have been overweight for as long as I can remember. Ever since high school, I’ve made numerous efforts to lose weight. Even when I’ve had success, I’ve gained it back.</p> <p> </p> <p> I recently made a list of lifestyle changes and since the beginning of this month, I’ve slowly applied them. I’m now in the habit of eating one to two servings of fruits and vegetables with every meal. I don’t have seconds. I keep my portion sizes normal. I’ve cut down immensely on sugars, salts, and high fructose corn syrup.</p> <p> </p> <p> In addition, I’ve gotten back to running. In spring of last year I ran my first 5K (the Race for Autism, to be exact). After that I had trouble getting back into the habit. When Mom got sick, it totally threw me off.</p> <p> </p> <p> Today I run three days a week. On days that I don’t run I power walk for about twenty to thirty minutes.</p> <p> </p> <p> These are just some of the changes I’ve made and there are many more to come. It’s not being done all at once, though. Wholesale lifestyle changes are best made slowly and gradually. I have already gotten some of them to become habitual but there’s a lot more work to be done. I’m up to the challenge.</p> <p> </p> <p> Most importantly, I feel great. I haven’t felt so good about myself, and about life in general, since Mom passed away. Every day I wake up with a lot of positive energy and feeling like a billion bucks. I get euphoric whenever I finish a run or walk. When I finish a healthy meal, I feel nothing but extremely good about myself.</p> <p> </p> <p> I missed writing this column. As my vacation time was on its last legs, I was eager to get back to it. I now have a renewed zest for life.</p> <p> </p> <p> <strong>Brian Lafferty is a young adult living with High-Functioning Autism. He graduated cum laude from California State University, Fullerton in 2009 and enjoys life on the Spectrum. Brian can be reached at <a href="mailto:brian@eastcountymagazine.org">brian@eastcountymagazine.org</a>. You can also follow him on Twitter: <a href="http://twitter.com/#!/BrianLaff" rel="nofollow">@BrianLaff</a>.<br /> </strong></p> </div></div></div><ul class="links inline"><li class="addtoany first last"><span><span class="a2a_kit a2a_kit_size_32 a2a_target addtoany_list" id="da2a_19"> <a class="a2a_dd addtoany_share_save" href="https://www.addtoany.com/share#url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.eastcountymagazine.org%2Flife-autism-spectrum-great-excitations&amp;title=LIFE%20ON%20THE%20AUTISM%20SPECTRUM%3A%20%20GREAT%20EXCITATIONS"><img src="/sites/all/modules/addtoany/images/share_save_171_16.png" width="171" height="16" alt="Share this"/></a> </span> </span></li></ul> Wed, 17 Aug 2011 21:06:20 +0000 Brian 6957 at https://www.eastcountymagazine.org https://www.eastcountymagazine.org/life-autism-spectrum-great-excitations#comments