I attended a seminar recently on the topic "Autism, mental deficiency… Are bioenergy and bioelectronics another source of hope?"
The latest scientific research on autism shows that in genetically predisposed individuals, certain neurotransmitters function abnormally. It suggests that near-complete recovery is possible through therapy using supplements to address mineral deficiencies or excesses found in many autistic children. The research also identified food intolerances in most subjects—primarily wheat, gluten, and dairy—recognized as causes of the most common symptoms: anxiety, hyperactivity, poor concentration, and so on. Simply by following special diets (often combined with supplements), improvements in behavior, attention, and language can be noticed within the first few weeks.
I should say this is a rather rough explanation, since I am neither a doctor nor a researcher—just a mother willing to explore every possibility. My son is now fifteen. Over these years, with enormous effort, he has reached fairly satisfying levels of functioning. Given how slowly he progresses, I find myself skeptical about this new therapy.
Until he was seven, Michele did not speak. He pronounced only a few distorted, disconnected words, often in the wrong context. He was hyperactive and prone to repetitive behaviors, constantly seeking objects that made him feel safe. He could concentrate for only a few minutes and showed no interest in anything—or in me, or in the rest of the family. Leaving aside the difficult road to diagnosis (which, as often happens, took years), we finally reached a definitive diagnosis of "autistic traits" when he was six. We tried various therapies. After many attempts that led nowhere, we fortunately turned to psychotherapy. Despite the skepticism and even the warnings of experts, it helped Michele achieve a certain balance, making him much calmer and more attentive. It took years to build what seemed like the most important thing: our connection. That relationship had been so distant and empty. Every small step felt like a great victory, and each one encouraged me to keep going.
- Read also: On facilitated communication: an interview with Francesca Benassi
For seven years now, Michele has been using Facilitated Communication. I remember with such emotion the first time I watched him type my name on the computer—and his brother's name, and his special education teacher's. I had no idea he could write, or that he even knew who these people were. A new world opened up. Through the help of his facilitated communication therapist, I discovered that Michele has thoughts and feelings of his own—real thoughts and feelings—which he expresses, however awkwardly, through the computer. This method has greatly developed his language and conceptual abilities. Today he speaks in complete, logical sentences, though he cannot yet tell stories or have conversations. For nearly a year now, he has been writing on his own, without any support from his therapist. It is astonishing to watch him write sentences he would never speak aloud—like: "Having my own room means I can find temporary peace." Now we are working on independence, teaching him step by step how to shower alone or brush his teeth properly, so he can take better care of himself.
Given all of this, it is hard for me to believe that a therapy based on supplements and special diets could replace the constant teaching and exhausting care of all these years. It was like pulling away veil after veil—the barrier that divided us and pushed us further and further apart, trapped in a spiral with no way out. Yet we worked hard. With help from experts, I examined all his repetitive behaviors and strange, incomprehensible habits. When he had sudden outbursts of rage and tears, I poured all my energy into getting around the strategies he had developed. I put myself on the line. Often I had to meet him at his level, to provoke him and challenge him.
The new millennium has opened doors to biochemistry and bioenergy—a theory that seems, like magic, to resolve autism. But should we believe in it? Or should we simply accept reality: that the human mind is so intricate and complex that we are still far from solving the problem? We are dealing with external agents that interact with defective organs. Maybe this is only an alternative method, one that can improve some organic aspect of this remarkable machine. If anyone is convinced otherwise, let them try to persuade me—and if possible, skip the chemical formulas and speak honestly to parents like us, who have been hurt and humiliated many times, yet remain unbroken.
- Teresa Rendina, 2002