Yesterday, I wrote a post about how a dear friend of mine told her son for the first time that there was a name for the constellation of gifts and challenges that help to make him who he is. I told the story about him smiling at the news that he, in his words, “has autism,” as he made the connection that his mom’s friend’s daughter, HIS friend, is autistic too.
In the process of writing it, I dug back into my archives, scouring posts that I’d written on the topic of disclosure, and why I think it’s so incredibly necessary.
In doing so, I found reams of words I’d written over the course of years and years, all pretty tidily summed up in these, from October:
Telling our kids about their diagnoses.
I talk about it a lot.
Because I believe in it.
I believe that knowledge…
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