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Review: Blazing My Trail

  • Posted on November 28, 2011 at 12:00 PM

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg’s book, Blazing My Trail: Living and Thriving with Autism is a sequel to The Uncharted Path. This memoir picks up where the other left off, providing new information and insights that will help to put the first book into perspective. Most importantly to me, it follows up on her description of burn-out. In my opinion, her new understanding and her recovery were what made a sequel essential. Like The Uncharted Path, this is a self-published book available in soft cover and e-book formats. It’s a text-based book; I do not remember there being any pictures and a quick scan didn’t reveal any.

In Blazing My Trail, Rachel approaches autism from a slightly changed perspective. Instead of focusing as thoroughly on her struggles as she did in The Uncharted Path, Rachel focused on solutions, accommodations and living with autism. The distinction, though subtle, is significant. Blazing My Trail is definitely a book about hope and about acceptance; whereas The Uncharted Path was a book about understanding and accommodation. In the first, Rachel struggles; in the second she thrives.

While I find Blazing My Trail to be a necessary sequel, and I’m very grateful for the book and its timing, I can’t help but feel that something is lacking from the book. The first book stuck with me. I can close my eyes and I can recall the experiences revealed throughout the book. There is an intimacy and an awareness that seems rather lacking in the second. Perhaps it’s just my experience and the distressing nature of my own fears, but I can remember little from the second book after her medication revelation without flipping through the book for a refresher. There is less cohesion to this second book; each chapter seems more distinct from the others. Yet, as individual essays, these chapters are each significant in and of themselves.

Perhaps a second reading will reveal that this feeling of disconnectedness stemmed from me and not from the book itself. At the same time, I cannot recommend the book as a stand-alone experience. Its significance is in direct relation to its predecessor.

Nevertheless, Blazing My Trail is a beautifully written sequel that is highly recommended to everyone who wants a continuation of the story they read in The Uncharted Path.

Review: The Uncharted Path

  • Posted on November 25, 2011 at 12:00 PM

Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg’s book, The Uncharted Path: My Journey with Late-Diagnosed Autism, is a memoir detailing Rachel’s journey of self-discovery as per her diagnosis of autism at age fifty. This is a self-published book available in soft cover and e-book formats. The majority of the book is text written in the same style as Rachel’s blog, Journeys with Autism, but there are also illustrations.

Rachel’s experience of self-discovery and self-acceptance makes for a poignant tale. In this book, readers will travel with her through an abusive childhood into adulthood and parenthood, and finally to her discovery of autism, her discovery of self and her discovery of acceptance. Rachel paints herself as a determined achiever in early adulthood, taking on the tasks of career, marriage and parenthood with a serious energy while still struggling with experiences only clarified by her new-found understanding of autism. As she reaches her limits, she depicts her burn-out in vivid detail, wrenching herself and her readers away from the life she had to a life of drastic limits. Then, slowly, painfully, she comes to terms with those limits while also pushing herself forward—not to do more than she can, but to be accepted in a society that does not yet understand. As a memoir, her story is simply told, but beautifully written—it is approachable, understandable and organized, with a hint of elegance showing through her love for words.

More than simply detailing these experiences, Rachel reflects on them, she expounds on their significance to her and she encapsulates her discoveries in a way easily shared with and translated for others. In the course of telling her story and trying to share the meaning she found, Rachel has created a memoir that’s also an act of advocacy. In retrospect, Rachel describes how her life was an autistic life all along, even when she knew nothing about autism. She shows the struggles she’s faced, knowing that others face similar struggles. From bullies in childhood to the confusion of the adult social environment, from the societal conviction of her brokenness to the discovery of her deficits as strengths, she counters the general awareness surrounding autism and challenges many preconceived notions held by the general population. For those active in the autistic adult communities available online, these portions of the text will seem straightforward and well-written. For others, these portions of the text will be revelatory. Rachel’s journey through her uncharted path won’t convince everyone that autism isn’t a tragedy—that autism itself does not have to be—but it is a successful work of advocacy, because Rachel makes her point honestly and effectively, sure to reach those who are truly willing to listen.

Rachel’s writing is beautiful and vivid, capturing telling moments and showing them to readers in the sense of that moment, but also expounding on them in a big-picture context. This combination of showing and telling makes for a moving memoir that is also a work of activism and advocacy.

Readers who want to understand the autistic experience will get a very detailed understanding of Rachel’s experience, which is only one experience but also provides insights into the experiences of those who are less able to communicate for themselves. Readers who are interested in understanding the self-advocacy movement and the need for advocates and allies will also benefit from Rachel’s cogent arguments in favor of acceptance, accommodation and understanding. Finally, readers who enjoy the memoir genre will find Rachel’s soothing and articulate voice, her commitment to organization and her skill with words a welcome relief from some of the poorly executed works available on autism. Her story is a captivating tale that will widen readers’ understanding and experience, even if it does not change their minds. That said, no book is perfect and while Rachel’s book ends where it does for good reasons, this book definitely needs a sequel. Luckily, it has one.

Imminent Burn-Out? (Part 4—The Next Word and Resolutions)

  • Posted on November 21, 2011 at 12:00 PM

Again, I knew I was adjacent to the autism spectrum, I read about Rachel’s experiences, and I panicked.

The threat to autistic children is real. The threat to autistic adults is real. Combine the two and the threat becomes even stronger. And these threats apply directly to my family. This is why I fight. This is why I advocate. It’s not the only reason, of course. If my family was suddenly safe from all future threats, if we got a pass on all the discrimination and prejudice, well then I’d still fight—because nobody should have to face this kind of threat. But we do. It’s real. Right now, my boys cannot advocate for themselves on this level. They cannot face down CPS and win. They shouldn’t have to; I shouldn’t have to. But I had to and I did, but if I had to do all over again, with the loss of functioning that Rachel described, I would lose. And that possibility is incredibly scary. The consequences for my children are terrifying.

Reading Rachel’s words, I felt this terrible ticking clock hanging over my head. I drive myself hard—too hard. I know that. Everybody who knows me (in-person) knows that. Periods of burn-out, of being too tired to keep up, of running out spoons, of hiding in my basement office to avoid the very loud noises my children make when they’re all playing in parallel—these things are inevitable, and as long as Mark and I are a team and I can keep up my end of the bargain, they’re just part of the flow of our lives.

But what if I couldn’t keep up? What if it wasn’t temporary? What if it stretched on for months or years? Pardon my language please, but my thoughts could best be summed up: Oh shit! Is that going to happen to me?

I kept reading. I finished The Uncharted Path and moved onto Blazing My Trail and…I kept reading, sighing in relief. While I don’t mean to minimize the significance of burn-out, the dramatic shift in abilities got a new explanation in Blazing My Trail. They were due, to a great degree, to a medication she took that made things worse instead of better.

The relief was palpable. I know with certainty never to take that drug. Besides, I’m horrible about taking daily medications. And I try medication only as a last resort—or after significant experience that it will be necessary, such as with bronchitis and antibiotics. And, well, the only time I found a psychological medication (for example, an anti-depressant) that didn’t provide more side-effects than positive effects was when I had that terrible reaction to a birth control shot that lead to a serious case of post-partum depression. The drugs then were just a temporary fix to get me by until the birth control hormones were out of my system and it was only effective because my depression was more poignantly chemical than usual and far stronger than I usually experience.

So, avoid drugs—check.

But, that’s not enough. She also described a plan that helped her regain abilities she’d feared she’d lost forever. It was simply a matter of taking care of herself and being responsive to her distinct needs.

Now, that’s not as easy or as obvious as it sounds. Not for me. I’d always thought that I should be my lowest priority, after family, God, work, school, friends, etc. I knew I had to sharpen the saw and all that…but that didn’t make it a priority, did it? Not really. Certainly not.

This scared me into reevaluating and reassessing the importance of my own well-being. Because, yes, actually, I am a priority. As a caretaker, I need to take care of myself so I can continue to take care of others. It seems obvious. In fact, I knew it, on an intellectual level. Reading Rachel’s story has made it visceral.

So, take better care of myself—check.

I can’t stop pushing myself. There’s too much to do. But I don’t have to push myself so hard that I break. I don’t have to ignore my own needs and well-being. In fact, if I pay attention, I’ll be able to do more, because I won’t get quite so tired.

But, wow, was it a scary, rocky trip—and I didn’t even have to live through it!

Imminent Burn-Out? (Part 3—My Panicky Aftermath)

  • Posted on November 18, 2011 at 12:00 PM

So, I knew I was adjacent to the autism spectrum and then, I read Rachel’s The Uncharted Path. I read about how she once had a lot more functioning capabilities, which she lost, and how she attributed that loss to burn-out.

I admit, when I first read that, I panicked for a good, long while. I wrote a lengthy post in near-hysterics about what Rachel said and what I feared. The post was highly emotional, a bit incoherent, and I asked my husband for his opinion before posting it. He agreed that I shouldn’t post it at this sensitive juncture (a reference you will either understand or not).

You see, it’s not that I’m afraid of being disabled. I’m not afraid of losing the ability to do things that I can do now. For me, unless I die very young, that’s inevitable. I’m a writer and I’m already showing signs of arthritis. I’m 32 years old. I use my hands and brain, almost exclusively to any other part of my body, for hours at a time several times a day, every day. So, unless I die young or arthritis is cured, I will lose the ability to work as I do now. I’ve looked ahead to that future, acknowledged that it will slow me down, and committed myself to not letting it stop me. If I lose enough functioning to be diagnosed on the autism spectrum, I can do the same. It’s not me I’m worried about.

There is a powerful, local government agency that has the authority—with few checks and balances—to remove children from the home of their parents. Here it is called Child Protective Services. For most of my teenage and adult life (the parts of my life that I was at all cognizant of their work), I was fully on-board with their mission. I’ve seen abuse. I know what it does to kids. I’ve seen kids have their lives ruined by abusive parents. I’ve seen some kids reclaim their lives, either as children or as adults. I’ve seen some people who struggle with reclaiming their lives every day of their lives. And I’ve seen some people who either don’t know reclamation is possible or have given up or continue to live in abusive situations their entire lives. I’ve seen it. I know. So, how could CPS be a bad thing?

For the same reason that autism advocacy is necessary at all. I was told: “No family should be burdened with three children with autism.” I was told: “The goal of therapy is to help your children become indistinguishable from their peers.” The person who said these words had tremendous influence with the local CPS agency, and when we didn’t comply with her “suggestions” to prioritize normalization or clinicalize our home, she called CPS—repeatedly. And they sided with her—completely. If they could, they would have removed the boys and put them in group homes for children with disabilities where they would live until they were normalized enough to be put into foster care. This was explained rather explicitly. Luckily, they couldn’t fabricate a case strong enough to make that happen.

But what if I burned-out? What if I became sufficiently disabled to qualify for an autism diagnosis? It would all start up again. The person in question would, if she became aware of it, begin harassing my family all over again. And I don’t think the autism advocacy movements have made enough progress for my family to survive the encounter.

So, I panicked.

Imminent Burn-Out? (Part 2—Rachel’s Experience)

  • Posted on November 16, 2011 at 12:00 PM

So, I knew I was adjacent to the autism spectrum and I thought I knew what that meant. Then, I read Rachel's book The Uncharted Path.

As the full title, The Uncharted Path: My Journey with Late-Diagnosed Autism, implies, Rachel was not diagnosed as a child. Rachel lived for 50 years with no explanation for the ways she experienced life. Essentially, Rachel passed, or strived to pass, as neurotypical—for 50 years. She coped, she lived a successful life, she had relationships, she had a child, and she had a career—for 50 years.

Then, she started researching autism in regards to her father, and that sense of similitude that maybe it applied to her as well crept in. This search for answers culminated with an official diagnosis:

After a half-century of feeling invisible, unworthy, and utterly strange, I wanted someone else to see me, to hear me, to understand me, to take me seriously, and to not send me away until I got a label that made sense. (UP, page xiv)

Sure, she struggled. Sure, it was work. But she coped. Self-doubts (I am oh-so familiar with those) aside, she coped for fifty years!

I used to be able to do so much. I could get up in the wee hours of the morning, drive long distances, go grocery shopping, work full-time at a demanding job, teach my daughter, support my family, pay the bills, cook the meals, clean the house, plan birthday parties, include all the neighborhood children in our holiday celebrations, exercise, and do just about anything anyone asked me to do, except stand on my head. (UP, page 98)

And then, she burned-out. She stopped coping. She lost functioning.

Those times are over. I’m sad that they’re over, and I’m also very relieved. I’m finally learning that I am not an infinitely renewable resource. Walking through the world and taking care of myself is a lot of work. I have to use my energy wisely. As I experience the effects of a lifetime spent defying the way I was made, taking care of myself is the most vitally important work I can do. (UP, page 99)

Rachel describes the differences between what she used to do and what she could do as she wrote her book in vivid detail. I felt a familiar similitude to her experiences growing up and becoming an adult—working hard to be a success, but always being a bit different, standing out in a way that’s not conducive to social success. I felt a similitude to that woman who pushed herself so hard and did so much for others—career, family, friends. I understand, because I do it. I’m living that life right now. And I get tired. I run out of spoons.

And that’s where the fear comes in. Rachel’s words, “not an infinitely renewable resource,” were something of a blow—a terrible, fear-filled blow to my sense of reality.

What if we have a lifetime allotment of spoons? How many have I burned through? How many do I have left? Am I going to crash and burn?

Imminent Burn-Out? (Part 1—Where I Stood)

  • Posted on November 14, 2011 at 11:29 PM

I recently finished Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg’s books, The Uncharted Path and Blazing My Trail. I’ll do a full review of each book, I promise, but those will have to wait. Right now I must address one urgent issue particular to those adults who either are on the autism spectrum or those who, like me, are close to being autistic, but don’t quite meet the diagnostic requirements.

As I’ve said before, and will again, I have many of the traits attributed to autism, including sensory processing difficulties, language processing peculiarities (a marked difference between speech skills and writing skills), and social processing difficulties. Were it not for the facts that autism (as it is defined by society) is a disability and that many people with legitimate diagnoses of autism struggle much, much more than I do (including all three of my children) and that I feel expressing my experiences as being equivalent to their experiences would detract from their struggles…were it not for these things I would feel wholly comfortable calling myself autistic.

Before I discovered autism in order to understand my children, I had never really understood what set me apart from my peers. I never understood myself. I’ve never felt I belonged in a community better than I belong with autistic adults. While I’ve always (as far as I can recall) understood that people have different gifts and different abilities, before I discovered autism I’d always more or less assumed people experienced the world in more or less the same way. I just wasn’t very good at coping with it.

Compared to the ideal neurotypical, I’m still not good at coping with it. Compared to the struggling autist, I am quite good at coping with it. And, that’s the thing. As far as I understand current diagnostic standards, I don’t qualify for a diagnosis of autism because I cope too well. I’m not disabled. Sure, coping is hard work. Sure, there are some days when I just don’t want to cope with the outside world. There are days when I dread answering the telephone, and would much rather the person trying to contact me via a letter or an e-mail. Sure, I freeze in social situations most people take for granted. But, when it comes to traversing my day-to-day life, and getting by in the world at large, I can cope more or less successfully.

(This is not some sort of gloating self-congratulatory baloney. There is absolutely nothing wrong with being disabled—except for the lack of acceptance, accommodation, and appreciation from the world at large, but that’s a problem with the world, not a problem with being disabled.)

The point is that I cannot, in good conscience, consider myself disabled. I struggle, but I can cope without the kinds of accommodations others need to cope. Sure, those same accommodations would make coping much less work for me. But I can do it on my own, with my own self-provided coping mechanisms and accommodations. There are many people who can’t and they deserve the focus of the autism community much more than I do.

I’ve struggled to communicate this position of being between to my readers, my family, my friends, and anyone else who has a need to know or who just might be interested. I was confident that I’d gotten it down (though there are still those who want to call me autistic and those who are offended when I consider myself close-but-not-quite).

But, perhaps it was time for my understanding to change.

False Blame

  • Posted on July 31, 2011 at 5:16 AM

This post is in response to Rachel’s recent post at Journeys With Autism about taking care when expressing our experiences of disability. Her post was, in turn, a response to another blogger.

While I’m not going to try to touch on everything Rachel covered (It’s a good post, and I highly recommend you check it out.) there’s a particular passage that got me thinking about an issue that’s been a concern of mine for a long time.

It all started with this:

My concerns on this score only increase when Ms. Baird launches into some of the most fear-inducing words about autism that I have ever read:

Autism is where marriages and parenting partnerships come to die on the rocks of exhaustion, despair and blind self-interest. Autism wears down families, severs familial bonds with sharp and bitter recriminations, blame and guilt.

I absolutely cannot tolerate it when people indulge in these kinds of generalizations about a condition that exists on a very, very wide spectrum. I understand and have compassion for Ms. Baird’s experience, but it is her experience. Yes, it is an experience shared by other families, but it is by no means the universal experience of autism.

I highly recommend reading Rachel’s post, because she makes some very important points that are specific to autism, and apply more generally to discourse on disabilities. However, in this post, I would like to address this from a perspective beyond autism and beyond disability. Simply put, what Ms. Baird is experiencing within the context of the quoted passage has nothing to do, specifically, with autism.

For those immersed in the world of parenting an autistic child, this may seem counterintuitive. After all, those of us with autistic children, especially children with “severe” autism, know it’s almost always challenging, often exhausting, and very, very stressful. But that’s just it. It’s not autism that wears down families, severs familial bonds, or creates blame and guilt. It’s stress. More specifically, it’s our poor or inadequate reactions to stress that have these consequences.

Stop and think about it for a moment. If autism were the cause, then we’d only be seeing these effects in families with autism. But that’s not the case. Nor is it the case that we only see these effects in families with disabled children. No. We see these effects in families that are impacted by a wide variety of stressors, and currently one of the most notable stressors is finances. How many parents have killed their children or their whole families in reaction to financial crises? I don’t know about you, but I’ve lost count. How many more succumb to abusive behaviors? How many people have walked away from their marriages and their children because they lost their jobs, because they couldn’t pay their bills, because they were going to lose their home? Is anyone even counting?

Sure, some families with autistic children experience exactly what Ms. Baird described. But so do families with no autistic children. Autism is not the cause. We have a tendency, as parents of children with autism, to falsely blame autism for our struggles and our challenges. We blame autism for experiences that we think are, at least to some degree, exclusive to ourselves and our “kind,” because we get so caught up in autism that we fail to see our similarities to others outside of ourselves.

People can, and frequently do, react badly to stress. These reactions are to stress, or the experience of being stressed. The cause of that stress is, for the most part, irrelevant when the issue is our reactions to that stress. There are many causes, and there are many reactions; but the causes do NOT dictate the reactions.

What is the difference between the mother who kills her child because her child is autistic and the father who kills his child because he’s broke? Certainly the first evokes great concerns about the perception of autism and disability in this country; certainly the later evokes great concerns about the psychological effects of our economic downturn. But, despite these differences, both are tragedies; both involve the deaths of innocent children at the hands of their stressed-out parents; both are bad reactions to stress.

I’m not a psychologist, a sociologist or an anthropologist. I cannot tell you how different or unusual this reaction is from reactions to stress over hundreds or thousands of years of human society. I’m just a mom. I’m a mom who looks at my kids and is horrified at the thought of a parent willfully killing their own children. It’s outrageous. It’s horrifying. And it’s happening. It’s not just happening to autistic kids. It’s not just happening to kids that are disabled or sick. The phenomenon is bigger than a single stressor. It’s bigger than autism. It’s bigger than disability. I see this and I can’t help but think that something has gone very, very wrong. For all I know this has always happened. I don’t know. But, even if this is some sort of incomprehensible “normal,” it’s wrong. It’s just wrong.

When I brought this up in a briefer form on Rachel’s post, she evoked the word “support.” For those of us within the autism community, support is a major buzzword. It’s a major buzzword in the greater disability community as well. My question is this: why isn’t support a major buzzword in the community at large? The concept of support is not exclusive to disability. We all need support. We all need community support; in fact, that’s the reason why communities exist.

Families disintegrate due to stress, or rather due to poor reactions to stress. The nature of the stress is not what needs to be fixed. There are too many stressors in the world to fix them all. If it wasn’t autism, it could be poor finances; if it wasn’t finances, it could be something else. The cause of the stressor isn’t the problem. The problem is how we respond to the stress. If people get the support they need, I believe responses would improve—again, I’m neither a sociologist nor a psychologist, so my statement is intuitive not factual. My point is that blaming the stressor does not get you the support you need. You cannot choose whether or not your child has autism. You cannot choose whether or not you’re laid off. You can choose how you respond. You can choose to let your family disintegrate. You can choose to take them out with a shotgun. You can also choose to cope, to get support, to reach out, to build community, to help and be helped.

That choice has nothing to do with autism. You can lay the blame for all your woes at autism’s anthropomorphized feet if you’d like, but it won’t do you or anyone else any good. How you deal with the stressors in your life is your choice and your responsibility. Choose wisely.

RoyalCanvas.com

  • Posted on July 23, 2011 at 11:03 PM

I received an e-mail from Mary Pat Stephenson, who describes herself as “a preschool special needs teacher for 25 years, working with autistic children and their families.” Her sons founded RoyalCanvas.com, a website where you can upload photos and turn them into wrapped canvas prints. Together they are raising money for the Autism Society.

“We created a page on our site where customers who want to get a photo made into a canvas will get a 30% discount and the rest of the profits from every order will be donated to the Autism Society. The page is at RoyalCanvas-Supports-Autism.” You can also view their public profile for the fundraising drive on the Autism Society’s site.

***

Personally, when considering whether to support a fund-raising effort regarding autism, it’s very important to me that:

  1. Efforts to raise funds do NOT use scare tactics.
  2. Efforts to raise funds show respect for families AND individuals with autism.
  3. Funds raised are used primarily to help living autistics and are NOT used to target autistics-in-utero for abortion.

There are organizations I will not support. Autism Society is not, at this time, one of those. On the homepage of the Autism Society, one the first things I see is:

“I am a…

Family Member

Individual on the Spectrum

Professional

Advocate.”

In the small print on the cited site, it states: “All sales proceeds from this coupon will be donated to the Autism Society. The Autism Society improves the lives of all affected by autism through education, advocacy, services, research and support.”

I could argue that “Individual on the Spectrum” should be first. I could argue that “support” should definitely come before “research.” Maybe in time I will. For now, I’m passing along the information as requested. The choice to participate is, as always, up to you.

Wandering: A Warning

  • Posted on March 18, 2011 at 4:10 PM

ASAN has issued a warning and a call for action.  You can read a brief overview here if you did not get the message.

ASAN has many valid concerns and complaints about this proposal.  Generalizing any behavioral pattern based on poor research is unwise and irresponsible.  From a social justice perspective, attributing a diagnosis to a group of people for whom the diagnosis is accurate to an unknown percentage of the population is an act of stereotyping, which further demeans a minority group and raises serious doubts about the integrity of the medical community.  Furthermore, “wandering” as a medical diagnosis seems questionable in and of itself.

However, as a parent of three children who have exhibited wandering behaviors, I must also object with the language ASAN used to motivate their supporters.  First and foremost, I think it is inaccurate to assume this diagnosis will “encourage” schools to use restraints and isolation.  These activities do occur and they are dangerous.  They should be stopped.  But they are used by unethical schools and staff for the sake of their own convenience; a diagnosis will not justify the use of these methods to otherwise ethical and caring individuals.  Wandering is a safety risk and schools have a responsibility to address that risk and accommodate children who wander.  All three of my boys have wandered at one point or another, and their schools have addressed those risks and found ways to accommodate them, not with restraints or seclusion, but by ensuring their safety and giving them appropriate opportunities to explore their environments.  Parents and schools share responsibility for formulating an adequate and appropriate plan to address these concerns in a child’s IEP.  I also object to the suggestion that wandering is a reaction to “abusive or sensorily overwhelming environments.”  While this can be the case, wandering is a behavior with many causes.  All the wandering I’ve seen associated with autism has been about curiosity and lack of danger awareness.  Children are curious.  Those who lack danger awareness may seek to satisfy their curiosity in unsafe ways, including wandering.  Associating wandering with abuse is far too reminiscent of the “refrigerator mother” theory and other ways that have been used to suggest poor parenting as the culprit for complex behaviors.  Such a generalization can be just as dangerous as the one ASAN seeks to prevent.

It can take less than 30 seconds for a potential wanderer to get out and away from an unsecure environment.  Hyper-vigilance does not equal safety in such an environment.  Measures need to be taken, but they need to be taken in a respectful manner, i.e. not relying on restraints and seclusion.  Attention should also be paid to the environment itself.  If the environment is uncomfortable, then corrections should be made to that environment.  But caregivers must also be aware of other factors, like curiosity and limited awareness of dangers, when addressing safety concerns for a child who wanders.

Wandering is a real problem, and it can be terrifying.  Some children who wander go missing for days before he or she is found, if he or she is ever found or found alive.  That’s terrifying and harmful for everyone involved.  Even if a child is missing for only a few hours or even a few minutes, it’s terrifying.  Yet it serves no good purpose to turn this challenge into a stereotype.  It’s an individual issue and the solutions are individual and specific.  It is irresponsible for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) to attempt to make wandering—a behavior attributable to many factors—a medical diagnosis.  It is irresponsible for schools and other organizations to use such a diagnosis to justify harmful practices.  It is also irresponsible of ASAN to attempt to motivate their supporters by noting possible worst-case scenarios from a social justice perspective without also noting that there are real concerns about the safety of some individuals with autism.

Disability Blogs

  • Posted on January 28, 2011 at 11:22 PM

I am honored!  The Goldfish cited me on her post: An Entirely Biased Who's Who of the Disability Blogosphere, January 2011.  I hadn’t expected that.  While I blog in the hopes of influencing the many divided autism communities—and in blogging I have grown more aware of and concerned for the greater disabilities community—I had never expected to be regarded by anyone as among the Who’s Who in that community.  I am truly honored.

The Goldfish also challenged us to create our own list of important disability bloggers.  I do not propose the following as a complete list—or even as a complete list of those blogs I find to be important.  Every time I’ve tried to do so, I’ve been told my list was too overwhelming, i.e. too long.  There are a lot of worthy bloggers out there.  Only a fraction of them are listed among my blogrolls, but even that fraction is “too long.”

What follows is a list of bloggers that have been especially influential for me personally.  I hope you can appreciate these fine bloggers as well, and perhaps explore the many other blogs listed to the right.

One of the first disability blogs I encountered was Estee’s The Joy of Autism.  Estee’s blog, and her friendship, have meant a great deal to me over my journey of discovery, and her writing still rings with relevance and grace every time I read it.  As such, she takes a very special place on this list, but she is a first among many.

Group Autism Blogs:

Shift Journal – Mark is the editor and a regular contributor here, and a man with an intriguing mind, who has a lot to contribute.  This blog has a more philosophical focus, which I find particularly appealing.

Left Brain/Right Brain – This blog is much more focused on news and science, which is important considering the very science surrounding autism is highly controversial.

The Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism – This is an eclectic, relevant autism blog, though it’s hard to pinpoint a focus.  The closest thing I can come to a focus is “correcting misinformation.”

Autism Blogs:

Comet’s Corner – This is a personal blog written by Clay.  His years of experience, and willingness to share his life and struggles, make this a very powerful blog that resonates strongly with me.

Aspitude! – Elesia’s blog is a powerful advocacy statement.  She frequent interviews others, introducing even more people to prominent members of the community at large.

Life with Aspergers – This one comes across as a parenting blog at first glance, but Gavin writes from a base of personal experience as a father on the spectrum raising children on the spectrum.  This dual role adds special insight to his posts.

Autism Herd – This blog is a powerful story of family—written by Kathleen, the mother of this family.  While autism plays a big part in these stories, it’s about family and living life with joy through the challenges they face.  Kathleen tells her stories with such wit and humor—it’s totally refreshing!

Disability Blogs (non-autism):

Brilliant Mind, Broken Body – Through this blog, I’ve been able to relate to the wider disability community.  Kali faces many physical and psychological challenges, and she relates her experiences in a way that makes them tangible for those of us who do not have direct experience with the challenges she faces.

Rolling Around in My Head – Dave, of course, is both a person with disabilities and a long-time disability advocate.  The confluence of his personal and professional experience creates such a powerful message—he’s great at triggering those “aha!” moments.

 

As I said, this list is far from exhaustive, but it’s a great place to start!  Enjoy!