The Reason I Jump

When I was small,

I didn't even know that I was a kid with 'special needs'.

How did I find out?

By other people telling me

that I was different from everyone else.

And that this was a problem.

True enough...

it was very hard for me to act like most other people.

And even now, I still can't do a 'real' conversation.

From your point of view, the world of autism

must look like a deeply mysterious place.

So my big hope is that by writing this book,

I can help to explain in my own way,

what goes on in my mind.

Can you imagine how your life would be

if you couldn't say what you wanted?

They're turned off.

The fountains are off in Greece.

The fountains are off in Greece.

Hi, all the fountains are off in Greece.

Are they?

All the fountains are off in Greece.

Okay.

Those fountains are off in Greece.

No more.

Every time I do something

that other people wouldn't,

it must make you wonder why.

But don't judge me from the outside only.

Spare a little time to listen to what I have to say

and have a nice trip through our world.

Amrit picks up on things which people usually do not.

That was kind of a revelation.

For a very long time

she had so much anger in her

but there was no way that she could tell us about it.

She must've had some bullying moments in school.

She was wanting to make friends

but others did not know how to be friendly with her.

She would scream for hours,

and then she would cry and I would cry

and-- not knowing what to do.

That was the time

when she used to really rub the crayon

on one particular spot until the paper would tear

and there were impressions on her desk.

But within that,

there was such a strong message for others.

And I realized that it wasn't just art that she was doing.

She was actually giving me the routine of her day

and what all was happening.

So, she would draw what she was eating,

she would draw other students around her,

she would draw the landscape.

And that is how the journey began.

So how do I see the world?

You may be looking at the exact same thing as me,

but how I perceive it appears to be different.

When you see an object

it seems you see it as an entire thing first

and only afterwards do its details follow on.

But for me, the details jump straight out first of all,

and then gradually, detail by detail,

the whole image floats up into focus.

My eyes are captured by lines and surfaces.

Just to get a grip on things, I have to scan my memory

to find an experience closest to what's happening now.

The chaos of the world has to be

turned into some kind of coherent order,

almost by hand,

inside an autistic mind I think-- I don't have one

so I can't be sure but this book helps me understand a bit.

Naoki Higashida wrote 'The Reason I Jump'

when he was thirteen years old.

And like my son, he was autistic and didn't speak.

It's like cartography. He makes a map of his mind.

There's an example where Naoki talks about the steps

that he has to go through to understand

that it is raining.

And it would never occur to you if you're neurotypical,

that you have to flip through this mental card index,

connecting the sound, previous memories

with the word 'rain' to work out what's happening now.

You just know it's raining.

The world that Naoki describes is different.

Chaotic, swirling, raw and visceral.

It's emotionally very taxing.

Meltdowns can blow up out of nowhere.

So that's where my son's living.

And it's not easy.

She used to have these obsessions.

-Uh, my fear

was that it is socially awkward.

And I-- I would try and stop her from doing that.

But when I read Naoki's book,

I realized what she must be going through.

So, it's difficult. Yes... I'm sorry.

I've acted so strange with my own child.

I don't know...

how I fit into a mother's role.

I've tried to stop her from being herself.

Every single thing has its own unique beauty.

When a color is vivid or a shape is eye-catching,

then my heart kind of drowns in it.

I can't concentrate on anything else.

A person who's looking at a mountain far away

doesn't notice the prettiness

of the dandelion in front of them.

There are certain sounds,

there are certain sights, that are either painful

or they are very pleasant.

When she comes home, she picks up a paper to...

to kind of put it there for the world to know.

Not being able to talk

means not being able to share

what you're feeling or thinking.

To live my life as a human being,

nothing is more important

than being able to express myself.

How can you be subject to all this wild,

uncensored, sensory input

and then render that into language?

Naoki Higashida sort of achieved the impossible.

A kid who could still remember what it's like

to be four or five years old.

It's kind of poetry.

It felt like our son was talking to us.

It felt like when I was at--

at my most desperate,

knowing I wouldn't get an answer,

but just saying, "Why are you doing that?"

Uh...

Well, here's the answer.

My wife and I wanted the people who work with our son

to read it as well.

So, we started translating it.

The book felt like an envoy from another world,

whose culture, whose rules,

whose reasons I didn't understand.

My mind

is forever swaying this way and that.

I never ever feel at ease wherever I am.

As a child, I used to wander off from home.

It wasn't because I wanted to go out

for a special reason.

My body moved because it was lured outside

by something there,

in search of somewhere where I felt at ease.

Hi. Hi, Joss.

The lady is going to turn the fans on.

It's like a fan.

The fan-- The fan goes round and round.

We're making a fan.

Make it-- make it spin fast!

Make it spin fast.

It's going round. - It is going round.

Joss going high.

High!

High, Joss.

Joss... because it's raining...

Good lad. - Good lad, well done.

I am a good lad. - Joss, Joss we're gonna take the sausage and chips

back to Bradstow, okay?

Come on.

We're at big school. - We are at big school.

Is the umbrella hot?

As soon as I try to speak with someone,

my words just vanish.

There is a gap between what I'm thinking

and what I'm saying.

Mummy got me two milkshakes.

Mummy did get you two milkshakes.

It's like a reflex...

...reacting to what I've just seen in some cases...

or to some old memories.

As if I'm drowning in a flood of words.

The cover is like a black hoover.

It's like a-- - Red?

This cover is like a black hoover.

It's like a red hoover.

It's like a black hoover.

Oh, it's like a black one.

This cover is like a red hoover. I think it's like a black hoover.

Its cover is like a black hoover.

It is.

The big exception is words or phrases

I'm familiar with,

like playing a game of catch with a ball.

Papa! - Papa.

Papa, Papa!

Do you want to wait for the doggy to go?

Joss, the dog's gone now, we're gonna keep walking

to the cafe, okay?

Good lad, well done.

Joss can see everything,

and he can hear everything.

When Joss was little,

his sensory world was entirely a positive thing.

Everything related back to water and light,

so we provided as much water and light as we could.