This article originally appeared in Vol.4 No. 1 (November, 1995) of the Facilitated Communication Digest, [p. 14].

[Editor's note: This article first appeared in the "Voices" section of the Los Angeles Times.]

Autism always is with me. When I wake up every day, I greet the morning with screams. Then I always run through the house very fast, screaming. I am unable to control these move- ments. I would love to wake up peacefully. Because my motor skills are so poor, my mom helps me get dressed. Sometimes wanting to be independent kills autism enough so I can get partially dressed myself with a few verbal cues. I am always attempting to kill autism, but am rarely successful.

Because of my handicap, I ride an awful yellow bus to Whittier High School. All the students in the bus are severely handicapped, and we are quite a sight. I sometimes scream and bang my head against the windows when I am frustrated with my handicap. The pain actu- ally is pleasant. Sometimes I scream and head- bang just so show how handicapped I am. Heroes demand worship; autistic people demand attention.

At school I have an aide with me at all times. During most of the day, a few students share one aide. When the teacher is well pre- pared and assumes all students are capable, I sit quietly and behave. When the teacher is disor- ganized and assumes we are stupid, I can't control my outbursts. Awful feelings come over me and I have to leave the classroom.

While in the classroom, I am able to listen and comprehend all that is said as long as I am sitting quietly. When I am overcome by emo- tions, I lose my ability to process information. At lunch, I eat away from autistic students be- cause they make me more autistic. I usually eat with an aide and a few regular students. At Whittier High, the students are used to bizarre behavior from those of us who are autistic. They are very accepting and always sympathize, but we tend to scare people with our unpredict- able noises and behavior, so we don't really have friends.

After school, if I don't have a vision ther- apy appointment, I start my homework. Home- work really allows me to kill autism. All mad- ness disappears when I have to concentrate on facilitated communication (typing with support.) My mother and I spend about three or four hours a night doing homework and sometimes all weekend. All my actions such a screaming, jerking my body and banging my head are sup- pressed when I am typing. Killing autism is a constant battle.

After a couple of hours of homework, I am ready to eat. I can help set the table by bringing things to the table, but I have trouble distributing them around. I know where every- thing should go, but my body doesn't cooperate. Now I am also able to bring things to my mother when she asks for them. I couldn't do this before I started typing because words just float- ed over my brain. Now I hear what people are saying. I can eat with a spoon and fork but I can't cut with a knife because my two hands don't work well together. After dinner, I help to clear off the table.

Back to homework until bedtime. After a bath, I can sleep most of the night. I am fortu- nate because many poeple with autism stay awake most of the night. Diseases like cancer are preferable to living like this -- not able to control your body, voice, emotions and thoughts.