My heart hurts for your son, you, and your daughter too. And let me include Jasper.
I also write in the most intense of times. Mine comes out in the form of poetry and yet the way you express yourself is quite poetic.
My son went threw this type of treatment in first grade before his dx. Teacher incouraged kids to push him away, or hit him, so that he would learn to keep his hands to himself. She put his desk in a corner away from the rest of the class so he would learn not to touch anyone elses papers. She punished HIM when boys hurt him in the bathroom. I didn't know about all this until a meeting near the end of first grade. The speech
T. helped make changes so this would not continue.
Going to share one of his stories to at least say I know what you feel. I was invited to read at my sons first grade class room. I was a bit nervous scared I would mess up on the words but my son wanted me to do it so I did. The teacher introduced me to the class, then told me where to sit to read the story. The class all sat on the floor in a large group waiting for the story. All the children sat close except one little boy, he sat alone far from the other kids. He was staring at me axious to hear the story I was going to read. That boy was my son. (tears remembering this) I smiled at him and motioned for him to come closer but he stayed where he was at. I read the story to the class, then when I was finished the teacher told children they have 10 min. of free playtime. All children jumped up grabbed a friend or a game to start playing. My son was a like a happy puppy running from child to child trying to get one of them to pay attention to him or play with him. Each one would turn their back on him or
make a face at him and tell him to leave them alone. A nice little girl came over to me and said hi. She told me her name, I reconized her name from my son, and said
"oh, my son says that your nice and you play with him"
she looked real sad and put her head down. She said in a sad voice, I HAVE to help him the teacher MAKES me. Even the nice girl did not want to help, she was MADE to help him and didn't like it. This hurt so much. When I looked again my son stood alone in a corner talking to himself. Poor lonely puppy no wanted to play with. I hated first grade for him! I too could not speak and say all that I needed to say to help him. Thankfully in time the speech T. he has been with since 3 years of age helped a lot, and knowing she was on his side helped me to know it was ok to talk and together we did start to make things better for him.
Once in the motion of falling it's hard or almost impossible to stop. People can try to grab you to stop the fall but the motion is so fast and hard seldom can a person help you. But once you hit the bottom you can rest and steady yourself for the long tedious climb back up. It is easier for people to help pull you up then to stop the fall. Maybe I'm different but I think depression and becoming invisable is necessary to survive. I know that in my darkest times I am most creative and if I use that then, at least there is benifit to depression.
Also while this first grade teacher tore away any self esteem my young son had, I did everything I could at this time to build his self esteem. He was only 6 years old so I use to sing songs to him telling him how special he was and how much I loved him. His favorite he would ask for was "you are my sunshine". Helping him to feel better always helped me to feel better. I was thinking maybe you could place a note to your son where he, and only he, would find it that might say why you think he is special and smart and loved. I know one thing that my son loved was my telling how someone else besides me said something special about him. Like if his grandmother said he was well behaved at her house I would make sure he knew she said that. He would then try to anaylyze it. Asking why did she say it? What did he do that was good? How did she say it? etc. I would explain in an excited voice and he would beam with pride.
I dunno just wanted to say that to you.
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