I Am in Here Read Online Free

book would reach me.
    Look Homeward, Angel was life-changing for me. Wolfe’s prose, which reads more like poetry, connected with me in a way nothing else had. Wolfe wrote about the tribulations of growing up, of desperately longing to move beyond the feelings of isolation that beset us all. Ironically, it was his own struggle to connect with others that allowed me to connect with him:
    Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father’s heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone? . . . Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When? O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again. [1]
    Elizabeth’s autism has been a barrier and a connector as well. In many ways, I am connected with her more deeply because of her autism. What thirteen-year-old goes for walks in the woods with her mom? Elizabeth’s poetry, while speaking of her difficulty in connecting, has allowed her to connect with many. She is prison-pent in her silent cage, but she speechlessly opens a heavenly door in the forgotten language of poetry.
    Elizabeth’s autism has created the kind of connections I yearned for in my school days. Our shared battle has opened my heart to deep connections with other autism parents. I have witnessed the same unspoken bond between cancer survivors. You don’t need to say much. You know what the other person is going through. You hug each other and cry. Sometimes, as Elizabeth has taught me, words are not needed.

Buried Treasures
    For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.
    Luke 12:34

    Connected to all before autism
    Â Â  The Bird   
    Girl in garden counting flowers
    In the garden lives a bird.
    Children come and go and play
    And the bird flies away.
    (age 9)
    ----
    I wrote this because I sometimes feel like the bird. I am overwhelmed at times by the noise and activity around me. So I often feel like I would like to fly or get away from it all .
    ----

    O n one of our first visits to Austin, when Elizabeth was six years old, Soma asked her to write a word that started with A , and to our surprise Elizabeth typed, “ Agony .”
    Soma asked her if she knew what agony meant, and she replied, “ Quite so .”
    Soma took a deep breath and asked again what agony meant, and Elizabeth typed, “ Pain .”
    â€œWhat causes you agony?” Soma asked.
    Elizabeth gave her a sideways glance, filled with exasperation, and typed, “ I can’t talk. I am stressed. I have no way to say that I am greatly bored with my day .”
    When Soma tried to commiserate with her by saying she is also often bored, Elizabeth banged her head with her hand and typed, “ But you talk .”
    Elizabeth’s struggles to get the world to understand her didn’t end when she learned to use the letterboard. Like many parents of special needs children, I set the goal to have her mainstreamed in our local public school. Based on my research, I made the pitch to our school district that early, intensive intervention would get her out of costly special education and mainstreamed by kindergarten or first grade. I asked them, “Would you rather pay a little more now or a lot more for special education until she is twenty-one?” I thank God they saw it my way.
    For three years, from the ages of three through five, Elizabeth underwent an intensive program based on the theory of AppliedBehavioral Analysis (ABA) in our home. Therapists paid by our school district implemented the program, teaching Elizabeth basic skills like identifying colors and objects. They taught her in very small increments, with rewards for each accomplishment.
    Like most treatments for autism, ABA is controversial. On the one side, there are studies going back thirty-plus years that show a respectable rate of children