The Gray Colour Campaign for Children with Autism By Robab Haghpanh

A family with an autistic child received a hate-filled anonymous letter, targeting their son. This is as revolting as it is heartbreaking, not only for families raising children with autism but for families in general.

The number of children being diagnosed with autism is growing rapidly. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, 1 in 88 children are diagnosed with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), while a decade ago it was 1 in 256 children. We cannot turn a blind eye to the fact that autism is an integral part of our society.

In some societies, such as in the Scandinavian countries, autism has already been de-stigmatized, in large part due to a strong media effort.   In our radio program Kaleidoscope of Lives, we interviewed Thorkil Sonne from Denmark, who is the founder of the Information Technology Company, Specialisterne. Mr. Sonne is also a parent of an autistic child, and his company only hires people with autism. In our interview, he emphasized that great achievements are made by people with autism who are given the opportunity.

Now from Halifax, we have started a new campaign (the Gray Colour campaign) to support children with autism nationally.  

https://www.facebook.com/pages/The-Gray-Colour-Campaign-for-Children-with-Autism/156540944541115

The September 1^st Wear Gray for Autism campaign is asking for acceptance of children with autism: the way that they are, in all aspects of society—especially in schools and communities.

The colour gray metaphorically represents the blending of contrasts. Similarly, autism is a part of a spectrum without clear cut boundaries or definitions.  Why September 1^st?  September is the beginning of the school year, and school is a big part of every child’s life, it prepares them for the future. Unfortunately, bullying is a big issue in the school setting for children with autism, and we must take it seriously.

In 2007, Canada signed the United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with Disabilities, and ratified it in 2010. This Convention requires that both public and private sectors provide full inclusion of persons with disabilities in all aspects of society.

As Canadians, we need to set the precedence in establishing an inclusive society that welcomes the presence of children with autism and their families.

We are hoping that the public will support us in this endeavour.

Robab Haghpanh has been an advocate for children with autism for over a decade in Nova Scotia; she is also the Nova Scotia representative for the Disabled Women’s Network of Canada (DAWN-RAFH).

The Bravery of Self Love-Installment #2

In the past week, I have realized that the time has really come to just be, and be beautifully true to my calling. The obstacles will still be there, but they will fuel the fire and add meaning to this experience, and serve as a necessary component in the process of carrying my dreams forward. It is that simple, and that challenging. No one else can decide what I will or will not accomplish because they don’t recognize my truth, and it’s perfectly alright that they don’t. Because you know what?

I already know.

I thought that writing had to be all about proving my worth in the world, but maybe it isn’t. I do have a responsibility to create an impact with my words, to be a voice for others because I do realize that a voice like mine is needed.  What I’m learning is that while understanding has always been a long of mine, it’s not necessary to my personal growth. Being misunderstood is not what holds me back from growth. Not daring to be everything that I want to be is what does that, and this is something that is true for all of us.

So I will write. I will dream of the magic of the fall. I will remember all that I am and how to embrace it. Who knows what I will discover next?

The Bravery of Self Love- Installment #1

Taking a journey as a dreamer, you don’t exactly know how to deal with the pitfalls that seem to be waiting at every turn, or to make peace with being in your late twenties and still coming across those seemingly insurmountable obstacles that keep insisting it’s just not time for you to live your dream yet. We blame the need for financial security and the job market for being stuck where we are and tend to avoid our own role in not being all we have ever wanted to be. I’m learning that I could be fighting more, that I convince myself that I have no words when they are already here inside me, and I’m too concerned with how they are received, or that my differences will always stand in the way of others taking me seriously.

A necessary part of choosing love is choosing to love ourselves. It can be the most challenging kind of love to add to your life, but you do have the power to achieve it. My circumstance can make me feel as though no one will ever truly know what my message is or understand how I want to contribute to this world. I come across those who think that living with physical challenges makes you brave, and yet, at the same time, they think that you are weaker that the rest, that you know less than they do, and that you need to be helped and guided in almost everything you do. They don’t see the person inside, with big ideas and the ability to think for themselves, take care of themselves and make important, critical life decisions. There are many that know that this is the truth, but the ignorance still exists almost everywhere you go. I wish that I could say that this doesn’t affect my confidence, but it does. Even so,  I know who I am, I love being a writer, helping others and celebrating the beauty in life, and inspiration is my greatest  treasure, and why I keep on weaving words as often and as passionately as I can.

Loving yourself takes being put down time and time again. It takes learning how to not let others take advantage of your kindness. It takes sticking to your ideals even when the world is on the opposite site. It means letting go and surrendering yourself to trust that you have a role in the universe, a purpose only you can fulfill. Loving yourself is the bravest step you can take in life as you decide to choose love instead.

I’m still fighting to reach this destination, and as I return to Chose Love Instead, I wanted to let out a bit of my struggle with self love, to begin to patiently push myself further in that direction. Perhaps we can help each other to get a little better at choosing this path each day, by being courageous enough to share our stories, and patient enough to listen to and try to understand the ones that we haven’t yet absorbed.  

Choosing with a Heavy Heart

The past few weeks have not only been difficult, but somewhat uninspired. I don’t want this to take away from those moments of inspiration that broke me out of the pain though, if only for a quiet moment of personal reflection or a dream. I am writing this entry with no particular theme in mind, because when I wracked my brain I couldn’t come up with one that was focused enough. I just wanted to address the fact that I am in one of those particular times when it becomes extremely difficult to choose love instead.

In the wake of loss, and during the desperate kind of an hour I find myself in, struggling to make the greatest effort towards my goals in heavy weariness, I have only come to realize how important choosing love is to the richness of my life and, in turn, the lives of those around me. We can let no trial discourage us to the point of no return, because, if we do, we cannot awaken to the call within each and every one of us, or improve the state of a broken world. I can become especially disheartened when I witness more judgements being passed than I see understanding being practiced, more acts of greed and betrayal than kindness and generosity, but I have no choice but to fight for that dream of a world who comes together as one. That’s just the core of who I am, and I’m done trying to accept defeat. I’m a stubborn advocate for a greater truth.

I know that this entry isn’t detailed, and if you walk away a little confused, I understand. What I hope is that it serves as a reminder to myself and my readers that heavy hearts are not forever. For every time we can find an opportunity to share a thought, send a prayer or a well wish to someone, we are making a difference that will surely make our hearts a little lighter. And yes, even in those simple acts and positive feelings, not only are you choosing love, you are choosing love instead of dwelling in the pain, and spreading so much more light into the universe. So, don’t be afraid. You are never alone for one moment, and there is so much more left in store for that heavy heart of yours.

Our Dad

This is a guest post written by my aunt, Barb Weatherbee. It is a eulogy in memory of my dear grandfather, Melvin Roy "Toby" Weatherbee, a true example of some one who chose love. 

Our Dad was strong.  He worked on the railway for years driving spikes and making the rails safe for everyone.  He wasn’t very tall but to us he was a giant.  He was the boss at work but Mom took over at home.

Our Dad was the original weekend Dad.  He worked away from home from Monday to Friday and only came home on the weekends.  I used to wait by the door for the big orange truck to come rolling in.  He squeezed a lot of love into those two days and we never felt cheated because he gave us everything he could.

Our Dad was particular.  Kathy was the snow shoveler but for every 40 foot driveway she shoveled with a 50-pound shovel, he always took care to remind her, she didn’t cut her corners. 

He also used the same fork for every meal.  It was called “Dad’s fork” and if you put it back in the wrong place in the drawer (not with the other forks!) you got the look.

Oh yeah, our Dad had a look.  We just called it “the look”.  We are not very creative.  You may not have seen it, but if you ever said or did anything he didn’t like, you got it.  We all got it.  Some days he did it behind our backs but on a good day he made sure to wait until you turned around.  Sometimes, it was accompanied by “the hand” but it was always very special.  I bet a lot of you got the look and you never even knew it.

Our Dad loved to drive.  His car was his sixth girl.  He drove from Nova Scotia to Quebec and when he came home on the weekends one of his favourite things to do was go for a drive.  Of course Mom had to tell him how to do it but he took instruction very well.  No doubt she got the look.

Our Dad was fearless.  When you lived with 5 women you had to be.  He was familiar with every brand of feminine hygiene product and when we ran out he made the run to the store without a minute’s hesitation.  I remember a call from him from the store where he asked me in a loud voice, “Did you want the ones with wings?”

Our Dad loved to party.  It was a long time ago but he liked to have a drink or two and spend time with friends.  A few days before he passed when his granddaughter Carrie, asked him if he needed anything, he said “a quart of whiskey”.  A part of me wonders if he was kidding.  The other part knows he wasn’t.

Our Dad loved to help people.  He was the unofficial taxi for a lot of folks who needed his help and would go anywhere or do anything for anyone.  And he rarely ever gave them the look.

Our Dad was creative.  I never ever found out what a cow cat was, what made it holy or its relation to a fishing boat but my Dad used to talk about them all the time.  Holy Cow Cats and fishing boats! 

Our Dad was always early.  If Sharon told him to pick her up for work at 7:20, he was in the yard at 7:10.  So Sharon learned to tell him to come ten minutes later than she’s needed him.  She was always good with the math.

Our Dad had other names for us.  Connie was sweetie.  I was “Squeak and Go Fetch It” and sometimes just “Squeak.”  I guess those times he had nothing for me to fetch.

Our Dad loved to sing.  He never remembered the words to any songs but that’s OK, he made up his own and he would sing them at the top of his lungs.  They were always different and they never rhymed.  He could have made a fortune today. 

Our Dad was a bit of an electrician but he picked strange times to do his work.  Every time my sisters observed their curfew by having their boyfriends park the car in the yard to “talk” he started flicking the outside light on and off.  That always meant they should come in and help him.  I am pretty sure that’s what it meant.

Our Dad did not have much education but he knew more about what it took to be a provider, a husband and a father than could fill a hundred books. 

But most of all Our Dad was just that: Our Dad.  Nothing could be more simple or more important.  We were everything to him and he was everything to us.  He was Our Dad.

Strength in Weariness

Wrought with exhaustion, it appears to be a weary world we are living in. We are the weary ones however, caught in the dreams that have turned to foggy and broken sleep, waiting for the load to become even a little lighter, unaware of how to pause the rushing hours or slow our rushing hearts. How do you tread ahead faithfully when your days are cloaked in uncertainty? Do you delve into waiting daydreams, and for how long and how far can these take you away? Time always returns to entrap us, but we have to find ways to rise above it. Beneath shaky stars, let us sing, let us write, and let us find the courage to paint new skies. Isn’t that why we are here, to create something worthy out of the pain of existence?  Sometimes, just waking up and breathing is the most difficult of endeavours, but strength means that you continue because you must.

Now that we are halfway through the week, let’s make the effort to do more than just push through. Let’s be conscious of the gift of our words and distribute them with heart rather than overanalyzing the best phrasing, and try to attain the peace inside that we wish that could feel. Even if the brokenness won’t leave you yet, you might start the thread that makes all the difference in someone else’s mending.