Amy Susan Rose
Mitakuye Oyasin
Last night a memory of my childhood popped into my head. I was very young, probably around five. My mother was washing my hair. I was standing on a chair and she was doing it in the sink. She was digging into my scalp and say, "Do you like me, why don't you like me?" I was speechless and perplexed of course and being so young could not understand why she was hurting me and saying such a thing.
Now it occurs to me that perhaps her frustration was oozing out of her regarding the fact that I was never a cuddly baby, that I rarely spoke or interacted with her. Of course back in those days being on the Spectrum was something unknown to the general public. But I always wondered why she did not seem to like me in my eyes and now I wonder if it was due to my lack of responses a mother hopes to receive from her child.
Now it occurs to me that perhaps her frustration was oozing out of her regarding the fact that I was never a cuddly baby, that I rarely spoke or interacted with her. Of course back in those days being on the Spectrum was something unknown to the general public. But I always wondered why she did not seem to like me in my eyes and now I wonder if it was due to my lack of responses a mother hopes to receive from her child.