What Isaiah wants everyone to know...

A friend of mine has this posted on her myspace, and it really hit home with me...I hope everyone who ever comes in contact with Isaiah, or any autistic kid for that matter, would read this, and get a small glimps into what life is like for our children.

Nobody can see my disability. I look just like every other kid -- attractive, walking, making sounds. They can't see how my neurons are scrambles in my brain. They can't see the misconnections between my left and right brain. Nobody can see that I have autism spectrum disorder. Nobody can see that my body is sick. No one can see that my stomach is in knots from my digestive system not working. No one can see that my body and mind are starving because my cells don't make the right enzymes to digest food. No one can see that I suffer from low blood sugar because i can't properly metabolize nourishment. No one can see that my body is attacking its own nerve cells from autoimmune dysfunction. No one can see that mercury ,lead, and arsenic cannot be excreted from my body, so it keeps building up in my brain. No one understands that my body cannot tolerate normal enjoyments for children, like bright, vivid colors and loud noises. I desperately want to be a kid and enjoy these things, but my body just won't let me. But everybody can see how inappropriate my behavior can be when I am out in public. Everybody can see how immature I can be compared to other kids my age. Everyone sees the 2-year-old's tantrum when things have been too overwhelming for me. Everyone sees my frustration from trying to cope. Everyone sees my screaming & fighting. Everyone just assumes I'm being bad, not that my body hurts, my eyes are in pain from colors, my ears ring with loud noises not heard by others. Everybody sees my tantrums when I don't get my way. No one sees that I can't explain my fear when I think I'm not being understood. Everyone may see me scream if my mom takes something away from me. No one can see that having something of comfort can keep my fears under control for me, and taking it away makes my nerves explode in anxiety. No one understands how hard I have to work just to keep my behavior from reacting to the chemical imbalances in my body that make me feel horrible. No one can see that, no matter how hard I try, sometimes I cannot control it. No one can see the shame I feel after I've had a meltdown from my body's problems. What they don't see is that I'm a person. I have feelings and want to be loved and accepted like everyone else. What they don't see is that, when they look at me like I need a good spanking, I understand that I'm not capable of controlling my body. What they don't see is that I scream because I don't know how to say, "Help me." What they don't see is that I hear every ugly word they say, but for the life of me, I can't make my mouth say what I'm feeling. But they don't see that as a disability. They say I'm unmanageable. They say I'm a problem .But I'm not a problem. I have autism spectrum disorder. My mom has taken me to more specialists than you can ever imagine. She's read more books and done more research on my disease than a parent would ever want. She has tried special diets, supplements, drugs, and various metabolic therapies. She has prayed for guidance and asked for discernment on how to help my body. And behavior, oh yes, has she tried everything to help my behavior. Stop telling her all I need is a spanking. If a spanking would stop all this, my mom would gladly exchange my disability for a spanking. She knows better than any of you what I need to help me, and what we both need is your understanding, not ignorance. I just want to be accepted and understood. No blamed and shamed. I want to be appreciated for my gifts. I do have some if you look more closely. I want to be cared for as a person. I want you to care, even when I act like I don't. I want to be respected, just like you do. I want you to respect my mom and dad for all the hard work they have done to help me try to lead as normal a life as possible. I want you to respect my family and all the struggles we have endured because of our love for each other. I want to be loved like any other child. And I need you to role model respectful behavior for me so I can be respectful, too. I want you to love me just like Jesus would. Debi Tyree