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Life with Carter…A Blessing in Disguise

4/25/2017

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A special note from The Write Reflection: April is Autism Awareness Month. In an effort to spread awareness about autism, The Write Reflection will feature guest bloggers this month on the subject of autism. The third and final post in our series is written by Marcy Dadich.
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My son, Carter, has Autism.  I feel that I am constantly saying that phrase and explaining that to people.  I think I feel I need to explain this almost as an excuse.  “I am sorry he said that, he has autism.”  “He didn’t mean that, he has autism.”  Do I really need to excuse this behavior?  I don’t know.  I certainly do not want people to assume he is “just a rude kid” and I do not want people to assume that I have poor parenting skills.  Living with an autism diagnosis is difficult.  It is sad, frustrating, rewarding, scary…every feeling you could possibly have all rolled into one. 

Carter is 8 years old and is in 2nd Grade at our local public elementary school, which happens to be the same elementary school where I teach.  Carter was diagnosed just after his 4th birthday, which is a little later than the age where children are usually diagnosed.  I always knew something was a little off, but just chalked it up to him being the third child and being used to the older siblings doing everything for him.  He was receiving speech therapy through our county Early Intervention, but was making slow progress.  It was during this time that he started to pull away socially and preferred to be alone playing. It was also during this time that we realized he had an extremely high pain tolerance, often not noticing when he was injured.  I began seeing a lot of fecal smearing (daily) and tantrums and meltdowns.  I knew there were some sensory issues, so he began Occupational Therapy. 

It still wasn’t clicking with me that there could be more going on.  Not until the day when our Occupational Therapist asked me if I ever felt uncomfortable leaving the house with Carter.  At first I said “No! Of course not!”  But the more I thought about it, I did.  I hated the uncertainness.  We could go out in public and be fine.  He would be fine.  Or we could leave the house and all hell would break loose.  I never could tell what kind of day we would have, so I realized at that point, that I was not leaving the house as often as I used to.  I was afraid to take my child in public.  Wow.  I was stunned.  That was my moment that I realized there was something else going on and I needed to look into it.

I took him to our pediatrician, whom I love.  She has been so wonderful to us.  She sent us to a psychologist for more testing.  We were so lucky with our psychologist.  She is amazing.  (Actually, we have been so lucky with everyone who has been involved in Carter’s success – they have all been truly amazing!)  Anyway, the psychologist administered her testing, and Carter was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (level 3).  I did not shed one tear with that.  I immediately put on my battle gear and went to to war…for my son. 

My husband and I embraced everything we could about this diagnosis. I researched, I asked questions, I sought out treatment.  Over the next  few years, he was receiving speech therapy 3-4 times a week, Occupational Therapy 2-3 times a week, and physical therapy once a week.  I was also driving him an hour south once a week to Pittsburgh for vision therapy.  During this time, he was completing the Therapeutic Listening Program (through occupational therapy) and he was also involved in therapy with horses as well as receiving full-time wraparound services.  Looking back, I cannot figure out how I managed that schedule, while working full-time and having three other children (including a newborn daughter).  But, as I said, I was in battle mode.  I needed him to know I was doing all that I could for him.

I did not process his diagnosis until he registered for Kindergarten. I don’t know what it was about registering for Kindergarten that made me hit the brick wall of realization, but that was when it happened.  Was it the uncertainty of a new school year and a new place? Was it the anxiety I had over what is going to become of him in the future?  Was it the fact that he is growing up and his behaviors were going to become more socially unacceptable (because he is not a little kid anymore?)  I am not sure, but I took him to Kindergarten registration and he did great!  Better than I had hoped or expected. 

And then I cried.  I think I cried for two weeks straight. I cried at work, I cried at home, I cried in the car, I cried in the shower…It felt as though I was crying nonstop.  Every time I thought about Carter, I cried.  The realization of the diagnosis had hit me. I cried for his future.  I cried for my future. I cried for his siblings knowing I will never give them all that they need because a child on the spectrum is a full-time job in itself.  I cried for my husband because I knew I can’t be the wife he needs because I was giving EVERYTHING I had to Carter.  I just cried.  All. The. Time.  Two weeks later, I picked myself up, brushed off my pants…and entered battle mode…again.

Kindergarten was a difficult year.  Not because Carter was having a difficult time, in fact he thrived in Kindergarten.  He received Learning Support services as well as continuing speech and occupational therapies and full-time wraparound.  At this point, he had “graduated” out of all of his other therapies (success!).  He struggled most with transitions and changes in schedules.  His teachers were very patient and understanding with him.  I struggled a great deal that year as well.  Personally, it was so difficult having Carter at school, in the same building that I worked in.  At that time, I was teaching Kindergarten.  The same grade as he was in. Everything that I was doing in my classroom with my own students, I would think “I wonder how Carter did on this activity?”  or “Oh, I hope he doesn’t have too much trouble with this.” 

I had a hard time seeing him at lunch and at recess, knowing that he was not making an effort to be a part of conversations of his friends, and knowing that he was probably not playing with too many peers because his classmates did not want to play the same thing everyday, as he did.   Carter was perfectly fine playing by himself at recess; I was the one who had a hard time with it. 

I especially had a difficult time with his meltdowns that year.  There were only a few of them, but they were whoppers.  Luckily, at his elementary school, there is a sensory room.  He would visit the sensory room daily for his sensory breaks (he was also using various tools throughout the day in his classroom as well).  One morning, Carter had a meltdown.  His teachers took him to the sensory room and gave him time to work through it.  In those instances, there is no talking with or reasoning with him…it will let up on its own, in time.  As the meltdown continued for a period of time, one of his teachers came to get me to see if I could help.  So, I headed down the hall to help.  He kicked me, punched me, tried to bite me, spit at me, yelled in my face, threw things…you name it, it happened.  This carried on for a long time.  Then it was quiet, he had exhausted himself out.  I knew what was coming next.  The remorse. He did this after every meltdown and it broke my heart, every time.  He crawled up on my lap for a cuddle and sobbed, not able to catch his breath sobbing.  Uncontrollable sobbing, and apologizing.  “I’m sorry Mommy. I’m so sorry Mommy.”  I cuddled him back, so thankful for these moments.  Not thankful for the crying, but thankful for the quiet time with just him.  I forgot about everyone else in the room and focused on him.  He needed me.  Once he was calm again, he left with his teacher to get a snack and a drink and I left to go back to my students.  After that extremely emotional situation, I went back and taught my 20 kindergartners the best that I could. 

He thrived in First Grade as well.  Again, we were so incredibly lucky to have wonderful teacher who put as much effort and energy into helping Carter to succeed as we did at home.  She was also so wonderful with me.  She knew my anxiety about him and also knew my concerns.  First Grade was good for Carter and me.  Halfway through the school year, we weaned him off of his wraparound services.  He did well without that support, although he was still receiving academic support at school. 

Currently, Carter is in Second Grade.  He is right down the hall from my own Second Grade classroom.   He has made outstanding progress this year.  He still does not have his wraparound at school, however, we do have limited hours in-home.  He is completely mainstreamed in his regular education classroom, with limited modifications.  He just received his 3rd nine weeks report card…all A’s and B’s.  My son, who is on the spectrum, has a report card of all A’s and B’s without much modifications! What a blessing!  His teacher this year is fabulous.  He has done so well in her classroom.  She enjoys Carter’s sense of humor and enjoys him so.  I have realized this year, that I enjoy having him at school with me.  I like being able to see him in the hall, or at lunch, and throughout the day.

I still have an enormous amount of anxiety when it comes to Carter, especially about his future.  Will he be able to hold down a job, have a family, and a “normal” life?  I hope he does.  I hope he can find a girl who can love him for him, and has the patience of a saint…and will make him happy.  I hope that he will have a fulfilling life.  I worry about what happens if something were to happen to myself and my husband.  Who would know how to take care of Carter?  My mind can’t help but creep to thoughts of the future. But when it does, I stop it.  I need to live in the now.  I need to be here to celebrate him for who he is and what all he has accomplished this far.  He is truly, truly, an amazing child.  

Life with him has taught me so much about patience, acceptance, and unconditional love.  It is haunting the amount of times each day I stop and realize who all I have let down for that day. I let down my students at school, and their parents. I let down my friends.  I let down my parents and my siblings, nieces and nephews.  I am constantly letting my three other children down, as I know (and they know) that I have to invest more time to Carter.  Is that fair?  No, but I do the best I can.  I let down my husband.  I am not the wife that I should be.  Real life has caught up to our relationship.  I feel badly about this.  I honestly do the best that I can to balance my life.  I do poorly at it at times, but I do the best I can.

Over the years of living with this diagnosis, I have come to accept it.  I have come to find humor in situations regarding Carter and things that he does or says.  I have accepted that I fail most people who rely on me.  I have accepted the fact that I do my best.  Day in and day out, I do my best. It is all that I have to offer.  Just last week, Carter and I were in the car, and from the backseat, I heard “Mom, what is autism?”  EEK!!  I am not ready for this! And how am I going to bring this down to an 8 year old level?  I explained how it is a different way some people’s brains work.  How maybe some people might have trouble playing with friends or looking at people in the eyes when they talk.  Some people might have trouble in school and need to get some extra help.  I then asked if he thought having autism would be a bad thing?  He thought quietly for a few minutes and said “yes.”  My heart broke right into pieces at that moment.  I quickly reassured him that no, having autism is not a bad thing.  In fact, it is wonderful.  Having autism makes the people around you love you so much more.  He accepted that answer and we moved on to a new conversation.

I knew that I had to start preparing myself for the conversation I dreaded.  He was becoming aware of things.  I am not sure how.  Maybe he heard me and my husband talking one time.  Maybe one of his brothers said something to him.  Who knows.  That doesn’t matter.  What matters was that I have to be prepared for this conversation.  My dear friend and I went to Barnes and Noble and I ordered a couple of books that I thought would be helpful.  As they arrived in the mail, I hid them away, hoping to never have to use them.  I didn’t want Carter to think he was any different than anyone else. I wanted to spare his feelings from that.  But, that didn’t happen. 

One night, as I was tucking him in and we were discussing our schedule for tomorrow.  He said, “Mom, I think I have autism.”  The moment I was dreading.  I asked why did he think that?  He said, “I do this with my hands” and showed me what he does when he stims.  He said “no one else in my  class does that.”  Ouch.  So, I calmly went and got my stockpile of books and we first read a phenomenal book that explained what autism was and what it looked like, using kid-friendly words.  Carter and I talked about each page and I asked questions.  I reinforced multiple times, that it means people love him all the more because of it.  When he is asked about it, Carter says “I have autism.” Carter knows he has autism.  He knows his brain works differently than others. He knows his family does special celebration days and events just because of him.  He knows his family loves him so very much.  I am ok with that.  I am comfortable with his level of knowledge. 

Some people do not like to celebrate April as Autism Awareness.  Yes, those of us that live this life, we have autism awareness every single minute of every single day.  I, for one, look forward to celebrating during this month.  We need to raise awareness and acceptance.  We need to do special events, and walks, and such because these adults and children deserve it.  It takes a community to raise an individual with autism. From family to therapists to school personnel. 

My family has the most wonderful extended family one could ever hope for.  I know that when I take Carter with me to his brother’s soccer practice, that there are 20 other moms helping me keep an eye on him.  I know that when I drop him off at wrestling practice, his coaches know to keep a closer eye on him, as do all the assistants. We are striving toward our goal of acceptance.  We are making gains toward this.  I am thankful I can be a part of it.  

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About the Author
Marcy Dadich is married to Tim Dadich. She has four children: Aidan, Jonah, Carter, and Lyla. She teaches 2nd Grade. She loves to spend time with her family and to read. She works hard to bring awareness and acceptance of Autism Spectrum Disorder to those around her.

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​Helicopter, Lawnmower, or Something Else Entirely?

4/18/2017

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A special note from The Write Reflection: April is Autism Awareness Month. In an effort to spread awareness about autism, The Write Reflection will feature guest bloggers this month on the subject of autism. The second post in our series is written by Jean Pace, with additional commentary by her son, Scott. 

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"There’s one department at this university that doesn’t make mistakes,” the Dean said. “The Admissions Department.”  

​Words meant to reassure, but I still felt terrified.   From the nosebleed seats of the college auditorium, the parents attending June Family Orientation Day peered at the young adults in the floor seats.  For some reason, they were batting around dozens of blue and white balloons, each of us trying to locate our kid amidst the balloons.  

The cheerful students working the event had separated parents from progeny only a few minutes after we exited our cars.   My objective for the past 18 years had been to get my son Scott, who is autistic, through high school and into college.  The last year had been a mania of ticking boxes:  campus visits, SATs, college applications, senior year academics and activities, and concluding with High School Graduation: check.  Now we were at our first incoming-freshman event.  A new era.  

The Dean was friendly, but firm.  “Without your hard work, your children wouldn’t be here.  I have nothing against helicopter parents”  Relief shivered through our section. “Helicopter parents care.  What I want to warn you about is lawnmower parenting. That’s when you mow down everything in your kid’s path.  You’re going to have to step back and let them figure things out for themselves.”

I saw the parents around me nodding along.   I started to sweat.  Step back? That’s not how we got here.  If asked to describe my parenting style when it came to interacting with my son’s schools and teachers, I’d call it proactive, but I’ve never really minded the term helicopter, either.  Every September, second week of school, I’d email all my son’s teachers, saying hi and urging them to contact me if there were any questions or issues.  I went to every parent night and teacher conference, kept lines of communication open, reviewed every progress report, made appointments for extra help sessions after school when needed.  When bigger problems arose, I emailed and phoned and conferenced and did everything I could to keep things from snowballing.

It was a warm day.  They walked us all over the grassy campus, where I couldn’t help but see a lawnmower or two.  I hoped I wasn’t being too much of a lawnmower as I said to yet another staff member, “Hi, I’m excited that my son is going here.  He’s autistic, so I have a few questions about support services…and could I get a business card so I can contact you if I think of more questions later?”  The university has an impressive array of help and support services.  The consistent message, delivered by everyone I talked to: while there’s a lot of help available, the students have to understand that they need help and ask for it. The earlier the better.   
 
“How’d it go?” I asked as we drove home. “Good,”  Scott said.   

“What’d you do?”

“We had fun throwing balloons inside the auditorium.”  

Panic!  Was it possible to attach a lawnmower to a helicopter?

Getting ready for September kept us busy.  I drove Scott to his campus job interview.  Set up an intake appointment for him at the Center for Access and Success, which helps autistic students manage campus life.  Took him to the bank to set up a checking account and debit card.  Bought him some new clothes.   And then, in practically no time at all, we were moving him into the dorm and leaving him there.  

I called or emailed Scott every couple of days for the first week.  In the second week, he called me, upset: he’d had a course scheduling problem that left him a week behind in one of his classes.   I made a list of people to contact (Scott’s adviser, director of the Center for Access and Success, etc.), and hit the Compose Message button.  Then I took a breath and pressed Cancel, instead.  I ended up sending a single email, to Scott, recommending a couple of actions to take and wishing him luck as he dealt with the problem on his own.  Which he did.   The helicopter stayed on the landing pad; the lawnmower, in the shed.  I’ve set myself at the edge of the lawn.  Close enough to call for help, and whacking weeds as needed.  

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Editor's Note: The following is a note from Scott, on his successes and struggles during his first year of college:

Hi, I am Scott Whiting.

I currently go to UMass Dartmouth for college. As a person with autism, I do have a little more difficulty with adjusting to college life than others. I have had experiences with sleeping in dorms before, in a summer music program, so I wasn’t as worried about living away from home.

In college, I have been on my own for the longest time without my family. For the classes I take, I always see Music Theory as the most difficult one. I have to put in more time to study for all classes and organize my schedule. Aside from that, my social life has improved. I spend more time with friends, go shopping with them, go to concerts with them, I am even in my first relationship with a fellow autistic friend.

College is making my life busy, and yet, improving it. When it comes to a job, my parents and I were trying to get one for the summer, but found no success. Then I applied for a job on campus and was accepted by the Claire T. Carney Library.  I clear floors, do head counts, and check book drops. I quickly got used to the job and enjoyed it, as it could be both work and fun for me.

I visit the Center for Access and Success, which helps disabled people like me to organize my schedule and class difficulties. I have been able to support myself very well, even through stressful times, and I hope to do so for the next three years at UMass Dartmouth. I, an autistic person, have been able to get through my first year of college. 
_____________________________________________________________About the Author
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Jean Pace is the author of the blog jeanSpace: fluttering about the empty nest.

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My Success Story

4/4/2017

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​​A special note from The Write Reflection: April is Autism Awareness Month. In an effort to spread awareness about autism, The Write Reflection will feature guest bloggers this month on the subject of autism. The first post in our series is written by Joshua Dushack. 

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I was diagnosed with autism when I was eight years old.  Before my diagnosis, I had uncontrollable temper tantrums that were hard for my parents to tolerate; I had odd obsessions, and was incapable of talking.  One of my earliest odd obsessions was when I would see a telephone.  My dad once told me that there was a time when we couldn’t enter a restaurant because I would see a public pay phone near the area, I would pick it up and place it on my ear and say, “Hello!  Abadubdaduh… Bye, bye!” and hang up.  I would repeat that routine for forty-five minutes straight.  To make matters even stranger, I was very picky with my food.
 
Because of that, and mostly because I still wasn’t talking after the age of four, my parents knew that something was wrong, but they just didn’t know what it was.  Already parents of two children, they knew my behavior wasn’t improving compared to my older brother’s.  In my early age, all doctors could say was that I would never learn how to read, write, or even how to talk.  They even said that I would never go to school without any supervision.
 
Soon after, my parents divorced and my mom raised my brother and I alone.  With the exception of having me in a special pre-school, my mom denied what most doctors have said and placed me in a regular public school.  In other words, she treated me like a “normal” child.  Still, I attended special education classes while taking regular classes at the same time.  I was even given a speech therapist at the school. 
 
Finally, when I turned six years old, I started talking.  Although my speech at the time wasn’t at my age level (my sentences mostly consisted of four words), it was a big step.  It wasn’t until I was eight years old that I began to speak progressively.  My parents began to understand me and I was able to tell them what I liked and disliked.  That same year, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder.  I wasn’t aware of my diagnosis until I was told my young cousin (my dad’s nephew) had autism.  I was twelve years old at the time.
 
“Hunter has autism?” I asked.
 
“Yes,” said my grandmother.
 
“What is autism?” I asked.
 
“That’s what you have,” said my older brother.
 
That’s when I finally learned why people my age thought of me as “weird” even though I thought I was just a regular kid.  That’s when I learned why I felt as if I didn’t belong where I was.  That’s when I learned why I was taking different classes than most people, and why the subjects like Math and Reading seemed less compatible to the same subjects most of my classmates were learning.
 
It finally dawned on me; and I knew right there, that there was really nothing wrong with me.  I just needed to improve my social abilities a little further.  I knew I had to stop talking to myself (repeating quotes from films and T.V. shows, which my parents call “T.V. Talking”) when I’m in public.  I became more aware of my surroundings, and observed the way my classmates behaved around each other.  I was even open with my dad teaching me social skills, like how to approach and talk to another person and be friends with them.  One of the things he taught me, and that I ignored, was that not everyone was going to like me in spite of my good-hearted behavior.
 
So I didn’t allow autism to take over my life.  I later discovered that the only way I could express my autistic self without feeling unwelcome and discriminated was through theatre.  Of course, I joined Stage Right Performing Arts after that.  Even though I functioned differently than everyone else (I was still too shy to approach my classmates), I was nevertheless accepted into the group, and the students treated me like a human being rather than a creature from another planet.
 
Acting played a huge part in me.  I was able to express myself through another character, something that is frowned upon in society and accepted in the theatre.  And they said the “T.V. talking” would never pay off!
 
 After graduating high school, I decided to go to college and study theatre.  However, I learned the hard truth when attending college.  It wasn’t as easy as I had hoped.  Other subjects I learned concerning theatre had much to do with theatre history.  I also had to learn stage makeup and how to make costumes, which were not only hard but I also had to spend a large amount of money for them.  I had to retake some of the classes that I needed to improve on.  I didn’t even ask for help; therefore, I found out during my fourth year, that I wouldn’t be able to graduate with most of my classmates.
 
At that point, I was entirely depressed, so the first thing I did when I found out I wouldn’t be graduating in the spring was sit on my seat pondering.  I thought, “How could I be so stupid?”  Then I called my dad, knowing he would give me words of encouragement.  He told me that this is not the end of the world, and that what matters more than graduating with my classmates in the spring was just to graduate in general.  At that point, I knew he was right; I made a new discovery.
 
So I went to the gym to warm up my mind, and to think of what I could do.  Then, I decided to get some help.  My college advisor and my family encouraged me to get another diagnosis and request for OVR (which my mom attempted years prior, but they said I didn’t qualify).  During the winter of 2015, I was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. 
 
After my diagnosis, I finally asked a counselor to view my results and see if I qualified for OVR.  Not only did he think I qualified, but was shocked that I was denied it a few years earlier!  I also went to therapy for a while based on the advice from a smart woman I’ve been courting for almost three years.  The therapy helped, and now I am able to move forward to this day without the influence of a therapist.
 
Also, as an aspiring theatre actor and singer, I currently volunteer as a mentor for children with autism at Stage Right Performing Arts as a mentor, which they call the Spectrum Theatre Class.  My job as a mentor is to keep the students on track with their roles in the show and to perform with them.  Despite my doubts, all of them never fail to surprise me.  Most, if not all, perform the shows very well and do an amazing job, with mine, and the other mentors’ help as well during their performances.
 
In November 2015, not long before I graduated college (I was taking a psychology course to complete my credits), my aunt invited me to a Temple Grandin Lecture that was occurring in Akron, Ohio.  Since my aunt bought VIP tickets, benefits include Temple Grandin’s book The Way I See It (which is definitely a worthy read), an autograph, and a picture with her (of course, my aunt chickened out and left me in the dark…).  Overall, I had fun!  I was supposed to be starring in a play for my church that year, but the play never came forward.  However, something even better happened to me!  I got to meet a few people at the lecture that marked a new beginning of my career.
 
It was there that I met Wendy S. Duke, the co-founder of Center for Applied Drama and Autism (CADA), where they give students with autism the opportunity to perform in the theatre.  I told her I had autism myself and was writing a bully-prevention play, which she asked if she could read whenever I finished writing it.  After I finished my play, Behind the Mask and got it edited, I sent it to her.  She loved it!  She even told me that she wanted to schedule a reading of my play for the spring!
 
In December of 2015, I walked the ceremony at Seton Hill University, but didn’t receive my Bachelor’s at the time due to finishing my credits at another school, which turned my transcript in late.  I received my Bachelor’s in May 2016, which was an exciting step for my family and I!
 
Later that month, I drove all the way to Ohio to attend the reading of my play, Behind the Mask.  The play consisted of a small cast (including my aunt, who volunteered to read one of the parts) and the attendance of a small audience.  I even casted those who I felt fit the part very well.  Not only was it a blast, I was given an enthusiastic reaction from the cast and the small audience that showed up!
 
A day later, I taught the class some scriptwriting exercises.  I was nervous because I never prepared any scriptwriting exercises, nor have I researched any.  Instead, I made up my own exercise.  So I asked them to form in a group of four or five, write down a page of their scene individually, and to mix each other’s scenes in a group and turn it into a play.  Then I told them to take turns performing it on the stage.  The class laughed and had a great time, and I moved forward to teach them a little improv after that.  After class was over, I was paid a total of $150.  I didn’t even expect a check from them! 
 
The story doesn’t end here, however.  I was invited by CADA to attend a performance of The Glass Menagerie by Tennessee Williams.  The show was outstanding, and the actors did a very great job.  Laura Wingfield, the disabled character based on Williams’ sister, was portrayed as possibly having autism, which I thought made the story make more sense.  After the performance, I was asked to be on the stage as a guest speaker to discuss my connection with the character Laura.  After discussing it, Wendy officially announced that my play, Behind the Mask, is going to be lit for production.
 
Although the date is not entirely certain, it is estimated that the show will be produced around the second weekend of September.  At that point, I will make my debut as a professional playwright! 
 
I will conclude this article to let you know that this an enhanced version of two articles I have written for Autism Speaks.  My first article went extremely viral, and was read by thousands and thousands of people on Facebook, making me a little famous.  It has been reposted on the Autism Speaks Facebook Page for the past two years, and has never failed to bring hope to many of my readers, who say they themselves have children with autism, and was told by doctors that they would never learn to talk as well.
 
Today, my life is starting to become more successful before my very eyes.  I’m not entirely there yet, but I’m getting there.  I’ve been writing blogs, I co-host a radio show called The Arun Mehta Show, I’m auditioning for plays, my own play is being produced, and I do some public speaking spreading awareness for autism and bully-prevention.  I continue to do the things I love, and that’s what matters. 
 
Autism is not primarily who I am, as it is not primarily who you or your child is.  It is only a part of me, and I wouldn’t change that for the world.  If you are good at the things you enjoy, then you should just do it!  As I said, autism is not who you are primarily, but only part of you.  At least that’s my opinion.  I may be autistic, but I’m also an actor, theatre artist, playwright, writer, blogger, public speaker, advocate, and most importantly, a human being.  Let your heart guide you, and never let anyone say you can’t achieve anything.  Nothing is impossible.
 
This is my message for everyone on the autism spectrum – or maybe even anyone in general.


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About the Author:  
Joshua Dushack is a playwright and writer born in Fortuna, California.  He received a Bachelor of Arts at Seton Hill University and his play Behind the Mask will make its debut performance at the Center for Applied Drama and Autism in Akron, Ohio, which describes the issues of bullying and how it can be prevented.  

His famous article They Told My Parents I Wouldn’t Talk; Now I’m graduating from College, went instantly viral, and was shared by thousands of readers on Facebook.  It is still posted on the Autism Speaks Facebook Page to this day.  If you want to know more about Josh, follow him on Twitter, Linkedin, his Facebook group Autism: Inspirational Stories of Healing, and you can check out his blog posts and articles on Linkedin or blogs.setonhill.  He lives in Pittsburgh, PA with his family.

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    Shari L. Berg is the owner/operator of The Write Reflection, and a writing professional for 25 years.



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