Secret

the name of a film produced by singer/actor/director/songwriter Jay Chou. The tune has been ringing in my head since Saturday. In Chinese, it's 不能说的秘密 - the secret that cannot be told. secrets that are shared among 2 are beautiful, even romantic... but secret that no one can know except oneself - becomes a poison that cripples.

I am now halfway thru this book - A friend like Henry - http://www.amazon.co.uk/Friend-Like-Henry-Nuala-Gardner/dp/0340934018 . It's nice to be reading again, to be transported into the emotional world of another person, and be distracted from the issues & challenging of our own struggles & stress. Despite the title, this book (well so far) isn't really about Henry, the Golden Retriever. It's a true story by a midwife-cum-mum who bore a child who suffers from servere autism, it was 1990, autism was a topic little-researched by public health workers, even she herself, tho medically trained to be a professional in babies & pregnancy, had only heard that word once, and never really knew what the condition was.

As an infact, Dale was incredibly quiet and easy to care for, hardly disturbed by anything... but as he grew older, they realised this boy was not growing like children of his age should. He did not have eye contact with anyone, was unable to speak his first word, and seemed to be unresponsive to human interaction, almost locked up in a world of his own - Daleyworld.

The first third of the book describes in details (with dates of major incidents) of how Mummy Nuala Gardner dealt with Dale as an infant, as the uninvolved interactions later developed into daily violent physical struggles where Dale will scratch, knock his head against floor & wall, struggle, shout when he was displeased. While bystanders saw this barbaric display as a spoilt child acting out, mummy knew best that Dale behaved this way because he was displeased, and yet felt fearful & lonely within. Despite his exceedingly loving parents & grandparents around him, autism had rendered the poor child incapable of interpreting human expressions and language. To him, objects & human fell into one category. I cannot begin to imagine how frightening it must be, to be scared & lonely but cannot seek relief because he had no connection with the "real" world.

Autism is often known as the incapable handicap - I think that it might be comparable to being deaf, mute, blind and completely paralysed & numb of sensory stimulation at the same time...

I'm now halfway through the book... and Henry has stepped into the picture... to replace Dale's previous obsessions - it was first Mickey Mouse, then Thomas the Tank Engine, and now for the first time, he was able to interact with a living, breathing animal... a Golden Retriever named after his favorite character from the Story of Thomas - Helpful Henry.

It's a book that draws me... and I think I should be able to finish it in another 2 days. I like to say I have OCD (obsessive-compulsive disorder) when it comes to reading, as I have shared with quite a few friends. I must say there is not many books I managed to finish reading so far. But once a book draws my attention, I can't put it down, my waking hours will be spent savoring each word to paint every imagery that I read, scene after scene in this dreamworld of my creation, with the help of the author, my thoughts are released like emotional painting brushes, each with wings of their own, picture after picture... i paint & imagine... and throw my own passionate flavor to each picture drawn... until I have read cover to cover.

I drown deep into that world, and let the author capture my mind and toss me around like a limp sash of silk in the desert gust of words. I imagine myself as one of the characters... in this book, I slip into the shoes of Dale... intelligent, emotional, full of overwhelming passion & expression, yet forcefully trapped in the dark world of autism, where I do not understand what I hear, where peope do not understand me, and despite how hard I try, I have no way of telling them my needs, my fears.... all they want is to hastily classify me into a certain category, so that they can move on to label the next child they see. Perhaps someone out there is reaching to me, but I can recognize no love, because I am incapable of empathy, yet I feel unsatisfied, I know there is something more out there but I am only reduced to a state of screams & cries... but still nothing comes back, nothing that resonates with me... and I stare into space again... into emptiness... because perhaps, this is the card Fate has cruelly dealt my stack, along with fear, loneliness, and pain... in this stack called Autism.

adults have been programmed to identify similarities, and group everything into general categories - not unlike product shelving in a supermarket. Uniqueness is feared, what is unknown is marked as abnormal, strange, weird & unacceptable, these should be sieved segregated from the mainstream, and their abnormality "dealt" with, the best to eliminate the uniqueness so the "odd one out" can become "just like the others". And as we grow as "normal" kids, we are trained to conceal our special talents, if it is not something recognized or accepted by commoners. Because if it is not something they can recognized, we will be rejected as mutants, weirdos... and left to wither...

Because of this, we disguised ourselves, put our colorful individualities into that dusty little cupboard... and call it our little secret...