kind, humble, funny: spectrumom

In the course of reading commentary over at another blog, I came across an interesting one and followed the author back to her place -- this blogosphere is awash with serendipitous linkings.  We're gifted by the stylizations of the juxtaposed!

I read all of spectrumom: Getting all Buddhist and whatnot about autism.  That wasn't hard.  There are only nine posts.

On July 9, 2010, she opens her blog this way:

We have 3 kids: Sam, Nathan and Isaac.


Sam was diagnosed when he was 2year, 7mo with autism. Nathan was born 3 weeks later.


It was a stressful time.


As he grew, it became obvious that Nathan was on spectrum too and I was devastated. I had always wanted a large family and it seemed all I could obsess on was not having more children. Well, in addition to trying to fix what was wrong with my kids, it was all I could obsess on. Eventually, after 4 years, we did decide to have another. At the advanced age of 38, I had Isaac, now 4. And he is neurotypical, the outlyer in our family. The weirdo. Or the normal kid in a family of weirdos, take your pick.

Maybe because her time and spirit are likely... distilled, her prose is very lean, very clean.  Or perhaps she's a practiced writer.  Whatever.  Do I really need to justify the fact that I like her writing, and like it very much?

I won't claim that, through it, I understand autism, or people with autism, or parents with children with autism.  Thank goodness, she hasn't been taxed with my education in her reality.  But she is kind, humble, and funny -- so I am allowed what I can deal with.




Malpensa Airport, Milan 2008


I particularly like "Airport Brain."  She does a superb job of facilitating between worlds without condescending to any of them.  Give it a read, starting below and then clicking your way over to spectrumom. 

Have you ever been in an airport, or another busy place, but you're by yourself? So your brain decides to separate itself from it's surroundings. You feel separated from those around and there is a hum in your head. It is just an odd feeling. It's called depersonalization by the psych people. And this kind is very mild as opposed to the severe end associated with severe anxiety disorders and PTSD. But it happens to me sometimes when I'm shopping by myself or at a huge convention by myself. I can hear and talk to people and look pretty normal, but I just feel totally separated. Maybe it's just me being weird, but work with me on this idea.


Now imagine you are in an airport in a foreign country and there is the hum of Chinese or an Indian dialect, not an American voice to be heard. Your brain spaces out more as it seeks the familiarity of your thoughts. [CLICK HERE TO CONTINUE]