My son is downs. I would share both our outlooks with you. Neither of us are offended or affected by the words or labels of others. My son and I both hold the power of our lives. Words do indeed have power, but only that which WE allow. Words only have the power we give to them.
It has helped both of us. I hope this helps. Or not.. That is up to you 😉💕
My son is downs. I would share both our outlooks with you. Neither of us are offended or affected by the words or labels of others. My son and I both hold the power of our lives. Words do indeed have power, but only that which WE allow. Words only have the power we give to them.
It has helped both of us. I hope this helps. Or not.. That is up to you 😉💕
I am glad that it helped both of you. But that word has had a terrible effect on my life and on those around me. It was a word that taught me to HATE people like your son. It was a word that taught me to HATE myself because I was in special ed for a learning disability (probably undiagnosed aspergers). It was a word that taught me to HATE and DESPISE a sibling with a physical handicap. To this day I struggle to keep my feelings in check when I am around people with certain disabilities. They must never know what I am thinking and feeling inside. But I was taught, and taught well by my peers and by the school system, by a teacher that encouraged the other students to pick on me, what it meant to be labeled with that word. It did not teach me acceptance or tolerance or compassion. I had to HATE in order to distance myself from that label. I have to distance myself from those with disabilities so as not to be considered "one of those people." When you have had a certain label follow you around all your life despite your best efforts to shed it, when even now when I am in my sixties I have coworkers make remarks like calling me "short bus" and other similar terms, it leaves a mark. And please don't tell me that I don't come across as being learning disabled or autistic or whatever because of my ability to write and express myself. You don't interact with me on a daily basis. All I can say is that there is something certain people pick up about me, something that has to do with my mental ability, and while some of them will say "I am only joking" when they say these things, it is not a joke. It has affected my outlook on life; it has affected the kinds of medical decisions I make or want made for me in the future. And no, I am not proud of this. But this is what one little word has done.
About 20 years ago, I found a lump and went to the doctor and was told, quite callously, that yup, it could be cancer, before he walked out of the room. The nurse found me in tears. That night when I got home, I received a phone call. From a teenager. "Retard, retard, you're a retard!" she sang out and hung up before I could identify the voice. To this day I don't know who it was but I have my suspicions. It was not a random call. It was targeted. Sort of like calling up the only Black family on the street and saying the n-word. What this person does not know and will never know, is that I was at probably one of the lowest points of my life. I made a decision right then and there that I have told very few people about. I said, if this is cancer, I will not fight it. I will ask for palliative measures only. Because I am tired of this sort of thing. That was 20 years ago and I have not changed my mind. I am here writing this only because it was not cancer. This is what this word does.
My son is downs. I would share both our outlooks with you. Neither of us are offended or affected by the words or labels of others. My son and I both hold the power of our lives. Words do indeed have power, but only that which WE allow. Words only have the power we give to them.
It has helped both of us. I hope this helps. Or not.. That is up to you 😉💕
I am glad that it helped both of you. But that word has had a terrible effect on my life and on those around me. It was a word that taught me to HATE people like your son. It was a word that taught me to HATE myself because I was in special ed for a learning disability (probably undiagnosed aspergers). It was a word that taught me to HATE and DESPISE a sibling with a physical handicap. To this day I struggle to keep my feelings in check when I am around people with certain disabilities. They must never know what I am thinking and feeling inside. But I was taught, and taught well by my peers and by the school system, by a teacher that encouraged the other students to pick on me, what it meant to be labeled with that word. It did not teach me acceptance or tolerance or compassion. I had to HATE in order to distance myself from that label. I have to distance myself from those with disabilities so as not to be considered "one of those people." When you have had a certain label follow you around all your life despite your best efforts to shed it, when even now when I am in my sixties I have coworkers make remarks like calling me "short bus" and other similar terms, it leaves a mark. And please don't tell me that I don't come across as being learning disabled or autistic or whatever because of my ability to write and express myself. You don't interact with me on a daily basis. All I can say is that there is something certain people pick up about me, something that has to do with my mental ability, and while some of them will say "I am only joking" when they say these things, it is not a joke. It has affected my outlook on life; it has affected the kinds of medical decisions I make or want made for me in the future. And no, I am not proud of this. But this is what one little word has done.
About 20 years ago, I found a lump and went to the doctor and was told, quite callously, that yup, it could be cancer, before he walked out of the room. The nurse found me in tears. That night when I got home, I received a phone call. From a teenager. "Retard, retard, you're a retard!" she sang out and hung up before I could identify the voice. To this day I don't know who it was but I have my suspicions. It was not a random call. It was targeted. Sort of like calling up the only Black family on the street and saying the n-word. What this person does not know and will never know, is that I was at probably one of the lowest points of my life. I made a decision right then and there that I have told very few people about. I said, if this is cancer, I will not fight it. I will ask for palliative measures only. Because I am tired of this sort of thing. That was 20 years ago and I have not changed my mind. I am here writing this only because it was not cancer. This is what this word does.
I am sorry for you, then.