the beauty in struggle and the pain in beauty

for the past two weeks i've had the opportunity to work at a day care center for developmentally disabled kids, most of them autistic. a lot of times i feel like i use the word opportunity as a niceism cause it sounds nice and polite. but this experience was something really special. there were times when i really didn't want to go and times at the center where i felt like i was going to freak out. but not to idealize or glorify their conditions and the real challenges they face, i learned a lot, got inspired in ways i haven't before, and i just really appreciated the time i spent with them and the staff at the center. 

prior to working there i had a really weak understanding of what autism is, and it's still weak, but i guess autism is disorder where you process information differently, especially social ones. a lot of the symptoms i saw were, communication problems, repetitive behavior and just completely unique ways of interpretation and expression. also almost every kid had different symptoms so what works for one kid doesn't work for another.  

i think there were two things that stood out the most out of all that i garnered there. one was just how infinitely exotic and flamboyant everyone of us are, and how our perception really alters our state of love for others. the second was sorrow at just how hard it is to live with disabilities. i'm not sure whether this is justified, and i in no way intend to place values, and maybe this is more so in response to an unaccomodating society, but maybe this will get more clear as my thoughts sink into this page.

there was one friday where i was left with 3 kids all alone. one kid was hitting himself on his head and groaningly shouting words and noises i could not decipher, a kid smiling on the couch occasionally moaning plaintive appeals to the air and another kid digging his nails into my arm so he could sink his teeth into my flesh; i personally feel i'm not a complete stranger in the neighborhood of bites, but i've never experienced that sensation of what meat in cartoons must experience, the slow elastic tearing away of flesh that breaks off not because of the bite but because of the pull. the kid's seeming uncontrollable pent up feelings seemed to express what i felt, an overwhelming tumor of an emotion spreading through my mind and trying to vent but not translating into any coherent action. i felt paralyzed as if i was in the middle of a fire with a firefighter's uniform but without the gear or the training, or worse just boots, underwear and those weird shaped hats and maaaaaaybe an axe, but probably useless because of its overbearing weight.

later it became clear that the kid hitting his head didn't like certain sounds, and the kid smiling on the sofa knew that and so purposely made those sounds in his mischievous youthness, he also had a much milder case of autism and that was probably a source of other stresses in his life, and the other kid bites people when he feels stress, most likely caused by the noise the other two were creating.  it was a completely incomprehensible situation at the time, but totally coherent if you know them and their way of communicating. it might have been possible to resolve the situation by asking the sofa kid, or enticing him with a task, to go down stairs and away from the other two. the staff who so lovingly and understandingly explained this situation were really inspiring. in a place where probably so many people would rush to judgement and try to escape or avoid the situation, they truly tried to experience and understand the world through the eyes of the kids, which i ambushed by preconceptions failed miserably to do. but i think identify with what they feel. though our conditions are different don't we all bang our heads against walls that we don't see, thrashing out un-embraced emotions upon what is within hands reach, wanting unrequited desires, crying out lonesome thoughts that go unheard? isn't that what living and growing essentially is? at least to one degree...

and so at the end all i have is mad respect for the staff at the day care center, for the parents and for the kids. but i do feel pain at how hard it must be for the kids and parents, but obviously not pity. like others, their stories must be ones of victories, failures, misunderstandings and overcoming of that which alienates, not to mention neglect and prejudice by the government and society. though struggles may trigger more beauty it still is a source of more pain, and that thought of times when people break down under the weight of struggles that at times seem bigger than the fight they have in them makes my heart is pierced with a dose of poignancy. but when you see the smiles that exude extraordinary love, stories that reveal uncommonly generous compassion, sorrow is replaced with awe. it was a great learning experience, and i feel shamed that this experience was yet just another window in my landscape as i move on to other stories and struggles, but i feel extremely grateful for the time spent with them and i hope i will be able to incorporate their stories into the one i am slowly kneading with each step i take.