When I Was Asked What's 'Wrong' With My Son With a Disability
My 5-year-old son is one of less than 20 known individuals with his particular genetic condition. A few weeks ago, a friend messaged me and told me that another person had messaged her asking some questions that, while seemingly well-intentioned (in that their answers were intended to educate a child that Simon sees every day), were poorly worded and wildly insensitive.
When I first saw those messages, I laughed. I didn’t know what else there was to do. A chuckle, an eye roll, and the shake of a head are fairly functional protective shells.
You try to brush it off. You really want to brush it off. But then it seeps back in when you’re trying to fall asleep at night, or when you’re in the shower, or when you take a moment to breathe during the workday, and despite everything that you know to be true, the idea that there is something “wrong” with your child drowns everything else out.
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