My Story, Part One

Born in 2009, São Paulo, Brazil in Albert Einstein Hospital.

Premonition. You might say being born in a hospital named after the man that redefined theoretical physics is indicative of a bright future. The funny part is the long journey it would take for me to demonstrate the gifts that only someone with such interesting origins could get.

The Change.

Before my parents even noticed, I knew I had a connectivity issue that wouldn’t allow me to voice my wants. My mother says they realized something was wrong after my second birthday. Going over my gorgeous photo albums of memorable days, I can definitely point out when that connection between brain and body started to deteriorate. Autism, the doctor called it, and so changes took place.

My Fear Begins.

Therapies to treat autism are misnomers. The only thing you can do is retrain the brain and body to perform

tasks that need less than simple directions. To be honest, even that brings about an issue not many take into consideration, therapy fear. Apprehension grows and spreads like rot, quickly and under the surface.

You think being poked and prodded would be easy to get used to? Nothing inherently evil was taking place so perhaps you'd expect that a routine would easily take shape. But it couldn’t. And I was inside an uncooperative body holding on for dear life. Data obsessed therapists blocking your fun are not the language of a toddler. Imagine a clipboard clad professional summoning you to play in a very specific manner so different from the urges your body is experiencing from deep within. It was hard to accept this as the new norm.

Therapy fear hurdled itself through my veins in every new office and with every new experiment. The language was foreign and while I could piece together a basic understanding, I quickly concluded that these people would fundamentally never understand the information I was trying to get through to them. Mom and dad were doing their best. And I loved them for it. I wanted

something to work just as badly as they did. But there were tears. Let’s just leave it at that.

My First Lady.

OMG, how to begin. People think looks define beauty, and that is partially true. Beauty also encompases your heart and what is within. Samara has both.

Possible coincidence, but most likely fate brought me my first lady. How she demands complete obedience, and she has a gorgeous, special trait to make you want to be better for her. You can say having someone like Samara as my personal guide on my first school journey was fortune in action.

My first school spassed me out; doing lots of fine motor stuff like painting and cutting. I could not communicate that I understood the teachers and spent most of the time spacing out. Today, I would totally tap to school because I can say my thoughts. Back then, I so appreciated the taskmaster, Samara. She made me stay focussed.

LOL, lost in Autismland.

Leap to my second school. How slow can you go? My second school was for special needs students. Enter therapists in the place of Samara. LOL, my teachers and therapists were such nice people, but it was so boring. Most people perceived me as dumb. Some of my classmates could talk but they sounded so scattered. I lost my sanity randomly. Perhaps a dumb kid like me showed little potential, but my loving mom thought I mattered.

LOL silent no more.

Most therapists thought I was essentially dumb. Words were dangerous. Other aspects of communication tortured me. Then I met Meghan. LOL, thank the skies, this young woman spoke to me like I was normal. She knew I wasn't a mysterious fool. She helped as much as she could in our sporadic sessions, teaching me how to communicate with spelling. Unfortunately, too much time passed between our weekly visits and I found myself needing to be there more.

My progress was slow but as the school year closed, mom heroically made the decision to homeschool me the following year. This set wheels I had never known existed into motion. Real content. Smart people stuff.

I was hungry for information and a chance to show off. I started to see Meghan more often. With just a little more exposure, I quickly mastered the steps necessary to finally communicate an original thought on my letterboard. Guys, Im talking an actual thought! There were tears. But this time they were tears of joy.

The homeschool of my dreams.

We cut the fat. I’m talking everything got a makeover. Speech and occupational therapy were zapped. Welcome horseback. It's so nice to meet you. I realized my equestrian dreams. Riding a horse became a therapy the whole family wished we'd done sooner. At the same time, I met Eli, and he breathed new life into gymnastics, which I had been doing for awhile. What had once been a monotonous sore spot in my week was now an adventure.

Compelling me to work were a special group of ladies. Each taught something different. I forged a connection with them. They taught me how to relate to the world. No special dolls, just games, stories, and lots of interesting subjects.

Spam doing social stories. Brenda taught me to dance it out, while others taught me art. Through my best friend

Jasmine I discovered the world of mathematics. She was kind, patient, and delicate like a princess. Smart and sharp like a precision knife. To this day, she continues to be my savior.

Then I met Nila, who I think in another life may have been a bird. She flew in and like a master chaos organizer cleaned up everything in my brain. We studied real things happening around the world. She helped me realize my obsession for politics.

Everything at home had turned around. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I was introduced to poetry, history and the marvelous, magical world of Harry Potter. Fostering my curiosity were science experiments and cosmic adventures. My mind was alive.

Honestly, spending time with a bunch of women made me super loving. Perhaps too soft. Rejection and managed expectations are still hard. I wish today that I had had more time to just hangout with boys.

Papai

My dad, I call him papai, never spent much time with the therapists. I lost most of my early childhood with him. I used to think maybe he was disappointed. Or just lost. I

figured it would be easy for a parent to get lost in the world of therapies. He let my mom take the wheel as he quietly rode along in the passenger’s seat. I didn’t blame him. I just missed him. I missed every lost opportunity to hear him tell me a story he didn’t realize I wanted to know. Or every chance to play a game we might enjoy together-chess, or whatever smart old people like. Every moment I could have connected with him over a shared interest. And as the aforementioned special ladies showed me, it turned out that Papai and I shared many interests.

You see, I am my Papai and my Papai is me. LOL. We’re both incredibly awkward. But incredibly lovable (ask my mom). Devilishly handsome. LOL, just kidding, but we do look alike. My father is incredibly tall which I seem to be inching towards. We both love a good steak. He is a genius. And while I have not yet reached genius status, I do enjoy a good quantum physics theory perhaps a bit more than your average ten year old.

Back to school.

Saturdays pass like any other day when you are homeschooled. Perhaps to lamely stay mapped to regular school. But it makes for a life too structured to spend time

on pleasurable pursuits. LOL, for me going to school again seemed like fun.

My mom spoke to the school about me in the spring of 2017. OMG, I panicked. I wanted to be there but I spasseed about spending time with other kids. Ms. Shaffer, the resource teacher, totally banished the smashing fear.

People seemed surprised to learn I was smart. I did lots of testing. Kids are supposed to hate tests, but for me it was fun. Making some art project, that is hard, but difficult exams are mindplay. I breezed through them.

Perhaps we were too confident, because we did not see the storm ahead.

School daze.

Partly due to overconfidence, and partly to my anxiety, the start of the school year was a disaster. Total meltdown. So my mom started to panic too. Taming my anxiety soon became the critical topic of scores of meetings. Thankfully, the school started to make some allowances for me, like coming in later and making my friend, Jasmine, my shadow.

For me, that first year was a constant battle for control. I had to go to therapy to manage my smashing fear. Don’t get me wrong, my good days were so special. People were so kind and understanding. But it was exhausting. Somehow the time passed, mostly smash up free.

Panic still takes over sometimes. Taming my crazy body takes so much effort. Other students toss around lots of stuff without so much as a thought. I need to plan everything out. Even eating my lunch is a challenge. Pesky anxiety makes me tremble. Today though, the anxiety is an afterthought. Lots moree to think about. LOL, I feel almost normal.

People like Ms Deak and Ms Bartee, my teachers, totally get me. Rather than torture me with some slow paltry assignments, they make special projects to occupy my brain and tame my spacy body.

Good friends don’t feel the need to explain too much. They just get you. Honestly, today I have too many good friends to count. Lots, like Amir and Miles. Life is good.

Potter watch out.

Time seems to go by so fast. I look back at the adventure my life has been so far, spam the spoiler alert, and I can only imagine the sequel. Perhaps a novel.

LOL, HWR