Communication

One of my colleagues here at work is Deaf. She has told me that she is possibly one of the worst lip-readers ever. I am possibly the worst at Auslan.

I feel really bad about this. I am so eager to learn how to communicate with Stef, so I've asked her to teach me sentences. So far I know, "My name is Leisa. I work at Arts Access. I am the receptionist."

I'm not going to go too far with that.

Stef and I communicate with finger spelling, mime and note writing. We also communiate by email. I guess it's the best we can do for now.

The hardest thing is that Stef is unknown to me. She seems like such a lovely person, but our communication difficulties prevent us from really knowing each other properly. Sometimes there's an Auslan Interpreter in the office so we can communicate through the interpreter, but when I am talking Stef has to watch the interpreter which means that we miss out on eye contact.

Eye contact. This is something my 20 year old son has a problem with as well. He has communication difficulties also. He has Aspergers Syndrome.

We have only just been given this diagnosis. Receiving it was partly relief, partly a kick to the solar plexus. Relief because for years and years, since my son was about eight years old I was trying to tell any specialist who would listen that, "There's something about him. He's not just shy. There's something more. He is just as quiet and "shy" around us as his family as he is around strangers." A kick to the solar plexus because this is something that is, to my mind, serious. It's on the Autism Spectrum. It's another disability for him to negotiate on top of his already existing one.

No one would listen. I would just get, "He's shy. He's just like other teenage boys, all grunt no talk. He'll grow out of it. He's just like his father was at this age."

Never underestimate the instinct of a mother. I knew something wasn't right. I knew he wasn't just shy.

It's a long story how we finally came to have him diagnosed, but I will tell you that it came from the most unlikely of places.

We are now learning a new path. Things are still the same as always, but at least now we have a little more understanding; and the knowledge that he's not going to "grow out of it". This is just him and we have to learn new ways to communicate in ways that he will understand. I am reading as much as I can about "being an Aspie". I bought John Elder Robison's books, "Look Me In The Eye" and "Be Different" in the hope of getting the perspective of an older Aspie and being able to help my son.

Part of me is still a little angry that no one listened to me all those years ago, but I am grateful that we are here now and learning a new path. One of my life mottos is that it's never too late. I don't believe it's too late for my son. John Elder Robison was 40 when he was diagnosed. My son was 19.

I am looking forward to learning a couple of new ways to communicate - one so I can get to know Stef and the other so I can get to know my own son.