My mom is not an Autism Mom. She never was. (I’m not saying it’s a bad thing to be one; there’s enough debate about that already elsewhere. I’m just stating the facts as our family experienced them, which was just the way it was for us, probably a natural product of the times.)
Of course, part of the reason for this is that she never had the chance to be. Back in those days, none of us knew that I was on the Asperger’s/autism spectrum, nor did Asperger’s/autism “exist” (in the diagnostic manuals) as we recognize it today.
My mum knew I was different…and that’s all she knew. Because back then, that was all there was to be known.
That’s all any of us knew. And she played to my strengths and accommodated my weaknesses as an individual. She guided me into the world, teaching me how to live…
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