Monday, August 26, 2013

In Which I Lose My Cool...

So, I'm sure you know about the hate-filled letter some coward wrote to the mother of an autistic teen.  When it came across my Facebook feed last week, I read it with a sense of shock.  I couldn't believe someone this cruel existed. 

Here's the letter.  Take a moment to read it.


At first, I wasn't going to address this.  Anyone capable of writing such filth obviously has mental problems.  You don't have to parent a special needs child to know this.  In addition, I wasn't sure what I could add to the conversation.  Several people have already expressed their outrage and their writing captured my feelings beautifully.  So I planned to let it go. 

But I couldn't.  Days passed and I kept thinking about the family that received this letter.  People, let me be frank here.  It's hard enough to raise a special needs child without having to deal with crap like this.  We have never encountered such outright hatred as this with Grace, but we have experienced our share of comments, stares, and tiny cruelties.  And it hurts.  Every.  Single.  Time. 

I had to respond.  And while I generally try to keep things positive, this time I couldn't. 

Dear Pissed Off Mom,

Maybe in your perfect world, no one ever gets sick.  No child is ever born with physical/mental issues.  No one ever gets hurt or loses their job.  Everyone skips along, flowers sprouting in their footsteps and rainbows haloing their heads.  I'm sure your children are perfect and have never done anything to irritate anyone.  They are angels, because after all, you have set a beautiful example of love and acceptance. 

However, in the off chance that your world isn't perfect, let me give you some advice.  Keep your stupid to yourself.  Just like the mother of the boy you target, YOU chose to live in a neighborhood with other people.  People, whose lives--unlike yours--might be a little messy. 

So, since you obviously don't know how to interact with Normal human beings--you know, people who instead of kicking someone when they're down, offer a hand up instead--let me propose a solution to your problem.  YOU move.  Pack up your perfect life and your perfect family and move to that magical place where children are born without problems and everything is sunshine and lollipops. 

But just in case you can't find that Nirvana, why don't YOU park a trailer in the woods.  That way you'll never have to interact with anyone outside of your definition of "normal".  If the trailer in the woods idea doesn't appeal to you (and I have to agree, it is a bit extreme), let me suggest a neighborhood where the lawns are perfectly manicured, the children always well behaved, and the wives are always beautiful.  It's called Stepford.  Look it up.  I have a feeling you'll fit right in. 





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