It's Not Over Till The Fat Lady Blogs

Good evening, morning, afternoon...whenever you are reading this! It's night right now for me, and I have the sudden urge to write :)

I just got done ranting on Facebook about women's self image. I went on this tangent because of a picture of a girl (who shall remain nameless...I'm not even FB friends with this person, the picture came up in my feed because of one of my friends "liking" the picture) who was in the bathroom, tugging at the side of one of her hips. The photo caption was "Finally! My 5 pound weight loss...goodbye flabby grossness! Can't believe I was ever 5 pounds heavier! How disgusting! Glad to be a more beautiful me!"

...Really?

5 pounds?

Wow.

I think my food baby just shed a tear.

I was literally speechless. Is this what has become of our culture? I'm pretty sure the girl in the picture was no older than 14. It made me want to cry. I could not believe that this girl not only felt so terrible about herself being 5 pounds heavier, but that people were LIKING the post like it deserved this big vitrual support.

That wasn't support. It was destructive to this young girl's self image.

Anyone who has met me in person knows that I am not small...by any stretch of the imagination. I never have been...thinness has never been an attribute that I have possessed, and to be quite frank, I'm pretty sure it will never be. Everyone is built differently...that is ok. It's pretty disturbing to me, however, that girls from my own generation and in the generation after me are beating themselves up over 5 stupid pounds. I LAUGH at 5 pounds...probably because I have MUCH more than that I need to lose to be in a healthy place...not a more ATTRACTIVE place, but a healthy one. I can admit that openly without feeling bad about myself. Personally, without trying to sound cocky, I don't think I am an unattractive person. I see (and obviously the man who married me sees) qualities in me and make me an attractive person that aren't necessarily what the media wants us all to think is acceptable. I think one of the biggest things that makes me attractive is my unique ability to find beauty in the most unrecognizable places. I am constantly surrounded by average to smaller sized girls (and some guys, too) in my life who obsess over the fact they might be wearing an outfit that makes them look fat, or that they are having an "ugly" day because they are bloated.

Apparently, according to society standards, I have an ugly day every day because I am not thin.

Hmm...why do I refuse to believe that?

Oh yeah...because it's complete CRAP.

It's not like I have always known that. Believe me, I have spent way too many years caring about how I looked and tried ridiculous dieting tricks to help me feel like a better person. Not a healthy one, a better one. I thought that I would feel better about myself as a person if I got my weight under control...when in reality, it was never about myself. It was about not being judged by everyone around me. I'm pretty sure I didn't get to the point I am about all of this until VERY recently. I can't say that I am completely cured of societal pressure, or that I don't want to diet, because I do. But I have a different motivation for wanting to lose weight that isn't making everyone else happy. It's all about me. I will admit, when I am trying to lose weight, it's kind of nice to hear people tell you that you look great, nice job, keep it up, etc...but at the same time, was something wrong with how I looked before? Me weight loss should have nothing to do with looking a certain way. The goal is to better my body so I can do things in life without being restrained by my weight, not to reach some level of attractiveness. It's pretty crappy to feel like the people around me feel unhappy with how they are...so what must they think of me? Then I remind myself that people aren't all that concerned with how I am...they are too wrapped up in themselves to think about anyone else. And if they are judging me for the way I look, it's only to make themselves feel better about what they don't like on their own bodies.

I wish people could wake up. There are SO many beautiful people out there beating themselves up about how they look, because they don't look like fashion models or fit, buff guys. Every time I hear people complain about their looks, I want to literally slap them in the face (I don't, though, because of this little thing I learned early on called "self control"). They haven't had to go through what I have been through. What a LOT of people have been through. 

I know this may be hard to read...

...and it may blow your mind a little bit...

...but there are worse problems in the world...

...than your muffin top...

...or your love handles...

...or even your non-existent double chin that you think you have when you lean your head back trying to look like Peter Griffin on Family Guy...

Growing up and getting made fun of for my size was a bittersweet experience for me. Obviously, I hated being called fat, and giant, and ugly, and whatever else people could think of in clever (and non clever) ways. But at the same time, it took away the fact that people could have found out I had Autism. I was almost willing to hear about my appearance because it was better than being called stupid, which is how I felt a lot of the time. Kids are cruel at a young age, and they can't understand how their words affect people...but adults? What is their excuse? You don't know what kinds of hardships people have been through...you don't know what experiences have gotten people to the place they are in. Why do people care SO much about how others look? Again...they are insecure with themselves and need an outlet for their lack of self confidence. So they pick on people, not knowing they they have probably been through a lot worse of things than being "out of the norm" physically.

I can't change how other people act. It would be nice if I could condition skinny people to stop complaining by slapping them every time they say they are fat...but the world does not work this way. I think the most beautiful people out there are the ones that work what they've got. Maybe it doesn't fit into some mold that the media thinks they should be in, but happiness is the most beautiful quality a person can have. 

Autism has opened my world to appreciate all kinds of beauty...

I was ridiculed so often for how I looked that I really only saw ugliness in those people who mocked me, physically harmed me, and laughed maniacally at me. Their attitudes towards me made them ugly, in my eyes. It was the people who reached out to me and showed me kindness that I saw beauty in. Also, the autistic people I have met in my life, all across the spectrum, have been some of the most beautiful people I have ever met. Why? Because I see so many of them appreciate the little things...they seek joy in things that others would not waste their time on. The art work I have seen from autistic kids is some of the most creative and amazing I have ever seen...it's because we see the world differently. Our senses and awareness of things around us make us more in tune with what is going on all the time. We are too busy looking at how things work and why they are the way they are to notice people. We live in our own little worlds...and from those have come beauty in a non-traditional way. They become beautiful people by turning trash into treasure. The way their smiles burst when they have made a new discovery and need to share it with you...some see it is annoying. I think it's wonderful. It's these people who have and are going to make differences in the world for the better...not the people who can't get past their "flaws". Obsessing over how you look is destructive...it not only hurts the people around you and future generations, but it is sabotaging behavior. You are never going to be happy trying to strive for something that only puts you in some societal acceptance circle...you will never be a better person by being skinny...you'll still be just as insecure and unhappy because you never accepted yourself for what you were before.

To the girl who excited over her 5 pound weight loss:

Congratulations. 

I hope your accomplishment helps you make wonderful contributions to the world around you

and that you find yourself to be a better, more complete person now that you are physically more beautiful, 5 whole pounds later.

Sincerely,

The people in the world who have better things to. The people impacting the world for the better. 

Maddiy Duan, Just "A Little Different"

Happy Father's Day, everyone!!

I hope you are all enjoying your day (or did enjoy your day) with your Dad. Josh, my husband, and I are going to my parent's house later for some delicious dinner...

By the way...my Dad...is the best cook ever.

Don't argue with me. You have not eaten this man's steak. 

He wins. Period. 

I am so grateful for my father and all that he has done for me in my life...he not only met the requirements that an average parent must meet, but he exceeded them with me especially, given the fact that he had a child with Autism. I had no idea how much my parents had done for me until I was older...they couldn't go on vacations together because I had too many needs that couldn't really be handled by a babysitter, so often they would go on vacation by themselves without the rest of my family.  He took every chance he could to travel outside of the country for work so that he could help pay for all my medical bills, plus just to support our family. 

Caring for an autistic child in this country seems to burn holes in a lot of pockets for many  Americans...and yet so many more families as time goes by are being effected by autism. 

Wanna hear some scary statistics?

1 in every 88 children for the year 2012 are being diagnosed with Autism

1 in every 54 boys are being diagnosed with Autism

Autism costs the U.S $137 BILLION a year

http://www.webmd.com/brain/autism/news/20120329/autism-rates-cdc-2012

...Wow

Those numbers are INSANE! In 2008, Autism was up 23% since 2006 and 78% since 2002. They still don't know enough about Autism to know why exactly this is happening. People have many theories about it being an environmental factor, people still blame vaccines (which, from what I hear, has proven to be false), etc. The truth is, no one has a for sure answer. Thankfully, there are many generous charities and causes being made towards Autism research...

But people still don't have the money to afford therapies...

Thankfully, my father has a job that provided him with pretty good health insurance, but it still wasn't totally enough to cover all the costs that treatments are priced at. It's truly heart breaking to me to think about how many families now have children with Autism, and how without support of outside help, donations, churches, etc., that families would feel at a total loss of hope not knowing if their child was going to be O.K.

My parents said that they just always hoped I was going to be ok. The doctor couldn't predict what would happen to me later in life...but he said I'd be ok. I'd just be "a little different", as he put it, "but who isn't a little different?" If you are a parent of a child with Autism, and you aren't sure what's going to happen...I will tell you right now, no matter what, it is going to be ok. 

Turns out the Doctor was right. I'm just "a little different".

If that's what you want to call it...

"Different".

As a child, I wanted to be different in a way that didn't make me a huge weirdo...which was all I really felt like. I wanted to be known for something that made me cool, drumming to the beat of my own drum without being an outcast. This turned into me trying to find ways to be different that really turned out to be impulsive, attention seeking behavior. I'd watch movies with people that were a little off kilter, but they owned what they had and they made something of themselves. I wanted to be that person, but not have it have anything to do with being autistic.

I wanted to be accepted

Like "Hey Arnold!". He had a football head. But people loved him, and he did things that helped his friends out and generally made his world a better place to live in.

SO BADASS.

I read this book when I was in about 2nd or 3rd grade that was about the life story of Dave Dravecky, written by Tim Stafford. If you don't know who Dave is, he is a Christian motivational speaker, author, and former Major League Baseball player for the San Diego Padres (1982–87) and San Francisco Giants (1987–89). He is known for his battle against cancer, which ended his career as his team was reaching the 1989 World Series. His autobiography called "Comeback" gives great detail about his battle with cancer and how his arm and left shoulder needed to be amputated. It's a very motivating and inspiring book that I read as a kid...and so I thought I would write Mr. Dravecky a letter telling him how awesome I thought he was.

...A very...creative...letter.

Cute, right?

My parents found the letter that I was sending to Mr. Dravecky in the mailbox. Suspicious as to who I was sending a letter to, they opened the letter and read it. They, after a huge laugh to themselves, came to me and explained why I couldn't send this letter to Dave Dravecky, in fear that he would send people to our house looking for the girl with the missing foot from a shark attack. My dad, to this day, had the letter in the pocket of one of his coats.

Through my many experiences looking for acceptance, my parents were people who always accepted me as I was. They never once have wished that I wasn't autistic, because in a way, it has brought many blessings into our lives...

LIKE THIS BLOG, FOR EXAMPLE! :D

I've always been "a little different" but later in life I came to understand that I was using autism for something special. I have a better sense of compassion for people who are also, "a little different". I think this blog is already reaching people who have autism and they are probably glad that someone is speaking out about it. I also have come to have talents that I don't think would be as cool if I didn't have autism.

My life was nothing short of hard. At times it was sad, scary, but on the other side, my brain had to learn how to get through those hard ships, which of course I couldn't have without all the support systems in my life. I had to struggle to get through it all. Isn't that what life is about? It's like having any other kind of disease...there is greener grass on the other side, a silver lining. With downfalls come blessings. My joy in my life is only as great as the pain I experienced. Dave Dravecky went through a lot of harships, but used them to help inspire people to strive for better in life, and to turn the dirt in our lives into something beautiful.

All in all, I am just grateful for my Dad who has supported me and pushed for me to live the best life possible...

Even if it's "a little different"

I know, I know...abuse of quotation marks AND transition boldness...

And the word "different". I know.

Here's my wrap up, ladies and gents...

Again...Happy Father's Day!

Love you, Dad...this one's for you :)

Thank you. Those words will NEVER be enough.

-Maddie <3

Facebook...Fan Page?

Goof afternoon, all you awesome people!

I am posting to let you all know that I now have created a facebook...fan page...for myself...I can't even say...fan page...without feeling like an egotistical jerk. But, it's a really awesome way to get more people aware of my blog! So, with the risk of looking big headed, I hope you all "like" my page so you have a better way of knowing when I update rather than having to make an account on here and subscribing...too much effort...just go on facebook, you are all on there anyway, let's be honest.

With that, I must go study for a Shakespeare final. Updates to come, thanks for reading :)

<3 Maddie


http://www.facebook.com/aspectrumofmaddie

The Awkward Dork I'm Proud to be

Welcome back, all you lovely people!

If you are reading this, it means you are back for more, which is very cool!...and not cool. I am so flattered by all of the people who read my last post, it was much more than I thought people would really view it, so I hope my next posts can leave you feeling as satisfied, if not more than my first one!

THE PRESSURE IS ON! (Cue Rocky theme music)

Anyways, it's so cool to see that people are interested in what I have to say. It hasn't always been like that for me...in fact, at many points in my life I have had lots I have wanted to say but lacked the voice and support to do so. That is what is so awesome about this blog...I can share all of that stuff I wanted to say then AND all the stuff I have to say now. Even if people say rude things about this blog, there isn't anything they can do about it. 

I'm UNSTOPPABLE...till the internet Nazi's strike. Then I'm a goner.

I didn't grow up with the most friendly group of kids...in fact, many of them were big jerks to me (especially the boys I actually had crushes on, that was the worst feeling ever. And if you are one of those boys and you are reading this now...hah. Oh how my taste in men has improved.). I don't think I truly understood what having a true friend meant till I was in high school...yes, high school. Don't get me wrong, I had "friends" and people I hung out with before then: the polite all class invites to birthday parties, the girl who clung onto me because I was the only English speaking person who gave her the time of day (till she learned some, of course...), the sports teams my parents forced me into, the boy who had me act out his imaginary poke'mon (...sp??) creatures he made up because I was ballsy and beast like enough to do it, the other autistic boy I went to school with who spread his boogers on the play ground to protect me from the school bullies...quite the gesture, I must admit.

I was literally an awkward turtle. When I got uncomfortable in social situations and kids made fun of me, I hid inside my shirt and shut everyone out. Inside my shirt was stretchy and comfortable enough to be a little shell for me. I would even play with my troll dolls inside of it (oh yeah...I liked troll dolls...a lot. Not the toy anyone else wanted to play with, I understood them). When the rest of the world seemed like an unsafe place, at the end of the day, my imagination was my only safe place. At home, I would write, paint, create stories with dolls, things I did not need other people for. This was only a temporary fix though...after it all, I still felt lonely. I can only be good company for myself for so long. 

Even though people treated me like crap...I still wanted to understand them and have relationships with them.

People at a young age don't understand that those that aren't like them aren't bad...oh wait, there are even adults like that. People in general are born with ignorance. I couldn't expect to have kids in elementary school to understand why I was not only completely different looking than them (let's put it this way...since Kindergarten, I've been a giant. I was about 4'10 beginning elementary school...plus a little chubby.) I didn't realize this till later on in life, but the kids comments and teasing were only to protect themselves. In all actuality, I probably spared a lot of kids from being bullied because people were too focused on my imperfections back then. Being autistic made everything seem amplified because I felt helpless articulating my thoughts to them...so i'd just scream or cry. And of course that made me look like a bigger fool in their eyes...my reactions only pushed people farther away from me.  

The only thing that made kids like me for a short period of time was the annual school talent show. Even though I couldn't speak to people, I could most certainly sing. When I was in control of making myself look like a fool through goofy songs, then people suddenly became my friend...for a day...then I was a loser again. My time in the spot light was short lived once a year for 4 years...

BEING A KID SUCKS. All there is to redeem the 90's for me was the fact that there were some pretty cool cartoons. 

The End...or is it?!

Then middle school came...

...Oh middle school...at least we were all awkward dorks then.

In middle school, right off the bat I did something pretty stupid...only this time, this seemed to make me friends instead of alienate them. 

Let's flashback to your first middle/junior high school dance...now back to me, now back at that that guy you danced with who had the B.O and sweaty palms, now back to me. Sadly, our dance experiences were a little too similar...

A boy asked me to dance. He was awkward, lanky, and taller than me...whoah, boys are taller than me now? Awesome!! So I said yes...and then during Usher's "Yeah"...he attempted to swing dance with me. Please picture this in your mind...in the center of the dance floor, surrounded by my entire 6th grade class. Please laugh. Now continue reading...

This big football player who I went to elementary school with came up and started pointing and laughing at us obnoxiously and loudly...granted, everyone was laughing, but he made a point of having us know he was laughing directly at us. 

"EWWW LOOK, IT'S BEAST AND THE GEEK! (...people didn't seem to get more clever with their insults later in life...come on, really?) SO LAME! WOW! LOOK AT EM GO! LOOKS LIKE UGLY LOVE TO ME!!"

...I had to face more of this bullshit in middle school? No one warned me about this. I had had enough of this crap in my life. This guy is an idiot. I'm ready to be awesome. So what did I do?

I punched him. In the jaw. CUE THE ROCKY MUSIC!!

Of course this action had it's consequences...getting a detention my first week of middle school. A call home and a written apology to the guy. Nothing so bad that rained on my parade from that experience. I had never felt such a gratifying revenge...at the time...he seemed to have gotten what he deserved. He didn't bleed or anything...but his face was pretty priceless. 

Other kids thought I was a total badass, and then suddenly a confidence boost allowed me to try new things...joining a girl scout troop, inviting myself to hangout with a group of kids during lunch (who later became some of the best friends I've ever had), coloring my nails with sharpie, pretending to be interested in things I had no clue about...you know, the usual middle school thing. I still got made fun of every now and again...but instead of crying about it on the spot, I wrote a sad poem about it and blasted simple plan in my room. Again...typical middle school stuff. My relationships were all pretty shallow...I hung out with people who also just wanted someone to hangout with. But the difference from Elementary and Middle School was that people actually LIKED that I was an awkward dork. I owned it. I became the fat funny girl that people liked to laugh WITH and not at. My self esteem wasn't anything spectacular, but at least I had friends I could call at the end of the day and talk about mundane things with. People didn't really know ME though...I didn't quite know ME either, but people liked what I presented to them...I was done being quiet and alone, so I put on a mask. The mask I wore through middle school, and even into high school. I became a person I wanted people to see...but it wasn't the full me...

Then I took a hiatus from special education, thinking I didn't need it anymore...because hey...I was a middle schooler! That automatically meant that I didn't need assistance from anyone for anything the rest of my life because I was now an independent teenager!...or so I thought...

And then the report cards came home and I was getting lower than C's in almost every class...except drama and choir, of course :).

So in the 8th grade, I was sent back to the good ol' special room...with all the special kids...feeling back at the bottom of the fishbowl. And at the same time...it was the best and worst decision I ever made. 

Middle school special education was a joke. It was a room to force kids to do their homework because that was what we were supposed to do...the teacher was an uncompassionate and rude woman who literally shook a chair at a kid for not getting a hand stamp before using the restroom...

But what I did get out of it was the kids I met in there. One girl, who to this day is a close friend of mine, had tourette's syndrome. Having a few of my own personal ticks myself, I could quickly relate to the kinds of things she was going through. She is, to this day, one of the nicest and most creative people I have ever met (she has a blog, too...you should follow her! I'll post her link later). It was people like her in special ed that showed me that I wasn't the only one with crap to deal with...in fact, a lot of people had it worse than I did. I waited far too long in middle school to find people like this...the goth kids hated life, the special ed kids found ways to get through it with their head up high and a smile on their face.  

Then there was High School...oh high school...the place where we thought we were done being awkward dorks...THOUGHT...

I think I carried a lot of baggage of Elementary school through middle and high school...and I didn't really realize it till later in high school. I think a lot of people have difficulties figuring themselves out in high school...it just felt especially more so for me. I didn't know what I really wanted to do with my life, I kept dating loser guys who had no people skills themselves, and I got myself into stupid situations just trying to fit in and find acceptance from people. Through theater, I found a place where all kinds of people collectively created beautiful works of art...jocks, preps, geeks, special ed kids, anyone who appreciated drama. I always knew I loved doing theater, but now it was less about doing it for myself and more about building cool relationships along the way. At that point, in my junior year, I didn't have to TRY and be anyone...I was who I was. Pretty silly, imaginative and constantly thinking, and always aware of what was going on around me. I met people who fascinated me...people who had gone through all kinds of things in their life much different from what I had to go through. But their story was THEIR story. Everyone has one. I wasn't always open about mine...till the end of high school, when I gave a speech at my Senior baccalaureate about being Autistic. For the first time, out of all the years of high school, people knew me. They heard what I had to say. I wasn't just another actress on stage or just a name they had heard around school. I was known for being me. 

I could go on about all the kinds of experiences I went through throughout school years...but what I hope you take from all these stories and what not is that I've been through things...everyone has. Your past is part of who you are, but it doesn't define you. There is so much I have to look forward to in life, and it would be really easy to let my hardships keep me from accomplishing things...to use Autism as a crutch. But I am a stronger person that that. I want to share my story with people, and then encourage them to find things in life that work for them...I know that sounds super general and vauge (and a little cheesey), but the greatest advice I got in high school from my favorite teacher (who was my special education teacher) was that when one thing didn't work, find another. There isn't enough time to give up. There is always a solution when things aren't working...and certain things don't work for everyone. Hanging out with the goth kids was not working for me...in fact, it turned me into someone I really didn't want to be. Appreciating people for who they were, faults and all, was the person and the person I am and want to be. Even though this blog is focused on Autism, I hope people still read it and remind themselves that things are hard for everyone in a certain way, and that we don't all have to go through life the same way. College has shown me this, esspecially.

Speaking of College-

No. There is more to come, my dear readers...but I am getting ranty.

So let us adjourn.

Thanks for stopping by. Keep calm and carry on...or some crap like that.

<3 Maddie

Rocky Road Ice Cream...AKA My Life?

Why, hello there!

If you are reading this blog, that means that you either know me somehow and care enough to read about what is on my mind...or you mistakenly wound up on this blog, but I have already caught your attention, so you might as well stay!

So, if you don't know me...

My name is Madeline. But I hate being called Madeline, unless you pronounce it (Mad-uh-line) instead of (Mad-uh-lin). Catch my drift? Really, i'll respond to pretty much anything accept Patty...and it happens way more often than it really should. But either way...people refer to me as Maddie. Note the blog title.

Speaking of the blog title...(if you haven't guessed, this is a topic transition...)

(...see...isn't it fun?! WHO KNOWS WHAT WILL BE NEXT!!)

Oh yeah...blog title. Moving on.

So, A Spectrum of Maddie is my blog (obviously...) that is kind of a play on words about the fact that I am on the...

AUTISM SPECTRUM 

(See what I did there? :))

For those of you who know me...more than half of you never believe me at first. Understandable. My own neurologist doesn't even believe it sometimes. Basically, the story goes...

...like this...(the fun never ends, does it??...I promise to not abuse the dramatic topic change sequence...too much.)

At age 2, my parents took me to a zillion quadrillion (aka...a lot of doctors, specialists, etc.) because they noticed that I was not developing in certain ways mentally and with basic motor skills. They thought I might be deaf for a period of time because I was not responding to my name (gee...maybe I just hated the name Madeline...those fools...). The doctors had all said to not worry and that there wasn't anything significantly wrong with me...but my parents were not convinced. They finally saw one doctor when I was 3 who diagnosed me with Pervasive Developmental Disorder, which is the big, general word for classifying an Autism Spectrum Disorder without knowing quite what specifically they could label me with. They didn't know enough about Autism in 1993 to really give me the full on Autism diagnosis, so they labeled me with PDD knowing I had Autistic tendencies (this is rarely done anymore, b-t-dubs). So...I was "different" in an Autistic like way, I suppose.

So...what did that mean for me and my family? (This first post is long, I apologize! Hopefully my dramatic topic change sequence is keeping you engaged...or it's really bugging the hell out of you.)

If I were to sum up my childhood years, it would basically boil down to this: I didn't really speak till the age of 4, and even then I had what you would call Echolalia: the automatic repetition of vocalizations made by another person. In Autistic children, they often repeat lines they hear in movies, commercials, or quotes from other people. A typical pediatric presentation of echolalia might be as follows: a child is asked "Do you want dinner?"; the child echoes back "Do you want dinner?", followed by a pause, and then a response, "Yes. What's for dinner?". For me, I would bring quotes from movies into real life context. Dad says "Maddie, time for bed now." and a Maddie response would be "1 little monkey jumping on the bed, one fell off and bumped his head!". In a cool way, it worked, but it wasn't the most socially acceptable behavior. 

Other than that, I had slow motorskills, a hard time paying attention to anything, rage, and a lack of understanding of social ques. 

I like to think of it as being in my own little world, and everyone else was just a random tourist in socks and sandles not understanding me and my native ways. They didn't understand me, so I saw no reason to try and understand them. This made things hard to my family, and I had difficult relationships with the people around me because I could not relate to them.

But I wanted to badly to try and relate to other people...

Most kids on the spectrum (that I have met in my time) have given up on trying to make relationships with people. They overcome many of the physical challenges that come with Autism, and they work really hard at mastering many things such as technology, art, music, animals (...learning about animals...), etc. But they become discouraged with...what shall we call them...able minded people? Perfect. Able minded people...because they don't understand what it is like to have a disability. And how can we blame them? Their initial ignorance is not their fault. It just makes it hard for the rest of us who want to converse and socialize with the rest of the world when people give you funny looks, or don't like to talk about the things you like to talk about. 

So what makes me different, you ask? (Maybe you didn't...but I'm going to tell you anyway. Bwahaha.)

My parents fought for me, which gave me the ability to fight for myself. I don't mean fight as in I went out and beat the crap out of everyone so I never had to deal with assholes ever again (although I thought about it many times...trust me). They fought for me to try and live the most normal life I could. They sent me multiple kinds of therapies, got me medication (so I wouldn't go beat the crap out of someone), speech therapy, physical therapy, a school IEP (Individual Education Program...I'll discuss that later), etc. And from the way I see it, it then showed me later on in my teen years how I could fight to just be myself without having to fit into some "societal standard of normal". 

You have no idea how grateful I am for the help my parents have given me. So many families in our country (especially in this economy) have children with disabilities and don't have the money to get the help that their kids need. My dad has been blessed enough in my life to have amazing health insurance...plus he worked his ass off for me traveling at his work so he could have enough money to support my family AND my needs. 

Even through all of those therapies and what not, the real development of my character and my success has been my drive to understand people. I will cover this some other time, because I realize how long this post is getting and how much more I want to talk about! 

Just know that this blog is going to not only be about my personal journey, but it will be about how I want to change the future for families with Autistic children...giving parents hope that things will be OK, even if the beginning is rocky (I get it...it's super rocky.) Later on, things will seem more like Rocky Road Icecream...different texture from what you were expecting, but all the more wonderful and interesting at the same time, with surprises around every corner

I just used the cheesiest metaphor ever...sounds like this blog post needs to end now.

Thank you for reading! 

Peace, Love, and...Rocky Road Ice cream? 

(Sure...let's go with that.)

-Maddie <3
A little different, but none the less awesome.

P.S- If you want to follow me on Facebook...
http://www.facebook.com/maddietdugan
There ya go :)