Autism & Covid Prison

A few days ago I was talking with my oldest son about jail; we were sickened that a teacher found guilty of sexually assaulting 23 schoolboys was sentenced to only eight years in prison. It felt to us that eight years being detained at the tax payers pleasure was an insult to the pain he visited on those boys.  Neither of us have any experience of jails, but we remarked that a spell of free accommodation, no bills and no living expenses seemed almost like a sick reward.  On later reflection, I would change my view of this somewhat.

This could have led into a discussion on the ethics of crime, punishment and rehabilitation but I'm pretty sure our conversation somehow segued into comparing the merits of various carbon monoxide monitors (he's a mechanic in the Navy).  Don't even ask.  I filed the subject under 'Disturbing Content I'd Rather Not Think About' in my subconscious and considered it dealt with.

Except it wasn't.

Look what just popped out

I don't need to remind anyone that we've been under lockdown, in it's various guises, for an entire year.  What started out as an almost thrilling social experiment has devolved into a planet convulsed with anxiety and depression.  This third total lockdown seems to have broken even the most resilient of spirits.  We are trapped within a 5 km radius, denied the pleasure of friends and numbed with tedium.  We are caged with family we love but need a break from.  We are constantly accompanied by the dread of  inadvertently infecting someone vulnerable.   We are trying to home-school reluctant children while  wrestling with the  growing belief that there's less and less reason to get up, get dressed and get active.  None of us are going anywhere.  The vaccine roll-out is painfully slow and we are clueless as to when all of this will end.  This is coloured with the pervasive backdrop of dealing with a threat we can't see, hear or smell.  Adrenaline has frayed our nerves to discordant tangles; our nervous system is a broken house alarm screaming in the night that everyone ignores.

Dealing with special needs kids in these circumstances is crippling. There are long days of managing volatile outbursts.   There are even longer nights of  my son's endless pacing along the corridor outside our bedrooms.  He can't sleep, he has no routine and he is madly anxious about the phased return to school.  His sensory seeking behaviour is off the scale.  We are seeking private child psychiatry and occupational therapy services.  In many ways, special needs parents were match-fit for lockdowns.  We are used to isolation and restrictions.  But the withdrawal, and inconsistent resumption, of school, respite services and home support was a series of cruel blows that just about floored us.

I am aware that everyone has their stuff to deal with.  This is not a comparative study in Hard Shit.  The point is, that I could deal with this if I wasn't imprisoned in my own 5 km cell.  I had no idea how much I need to see the people I love, or how much I depend on them to help through the difficult stuff.

A year of lockdowns has given me a respect I never had for imprisonment.  I still believe that an eight year sentence for a sexual predator is hopelessly inadequate, but I no longer view the removal of freedom as inconsequential.   Prison is a form of hell and we have a way to go yet.