If you never read any more of this blog post of mine, you MUST, without fail, follow this link and read Glennon’s blog post.

I’m glad I took the kairos time (that will make more sense if you’ve read her post) to read this raw and beautifully written article. I think all parents should read it, but especially the parents of special needs children. Its message, I believe, goes further to affirm us as we face the very different challenges on a daily basis.

I get caught up in the guilt of not “enjoying every moment of their childhood before it’s too late.” I can’t honestly say I loooove parenting. It’s not my gift. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. But it is the most rewarding thing I’ve ever done. I do loooove being a parent, or as Glennon says “having parented.” I have an influence on them, not just as their parent, but the one and only role of being their mother. I’m way far from perfect, but at the end of the day, I’m learning to pat myself on the back for getting though another day – for finding the one (it’s usually more than one but I like to set myself up for success) instance of hope, glimmer of beauty, evidence that something I tried to pass on actually did, proof that some therapy I paid for was worth its investment.

It reminds me of my favorite clip from the movie “The Back-up Plan.”

You know, when I really think about it though, I’m actually very lucky because statistically, I feel like I have more opportunities to seize moments of hope and beauty. On those days that I’m up to my eyeballs in tantrums, strewn legos, and broken computer peripherals and I look at the clock and it’s only 8:30 in the morning, I need that moment when I hear the distant, unprompted toilet flush. I don’t know if that makes sense or not. Maybe a story would help illustrate.

Today, we took The Skipper Dog to the vet. It was quite an intense appointment (about a different kind of seizing ), so both me and The Hub went and of course had to bring the kids. We left them in the lobby with the directions that they were in charge of only themselves, to make sure they made themselves make good choices. About after 15 minutes of being back with the vet, I heard The Elder screaming in the lobby. I went out there and he was sitting criss cross applesauce on the bench screaming:

E: “Y is touching me!”
M: (to The Younger) “Don’t touch him.”
Y: “But I want to sit here.”
M: (to The Elder) “Choose a different place to sit”
E: “But that place has a scary thing, and that place is too close to the vent, and that place is touching that plant, and that place is near the magazines.”

The Younger couldn’t really top that so (with maternal encouragement) he moved to a chair on the other side of the lobby. I was able to return to the patient room without missing too much of the vet’s testing-results spiel.

Let’s list the obvious triumphs. (triumphs that I must say make me one proud mama!)

• I was comfortable leaving them both in the lobby (not without my super sonic ears open to eavesdrop on their every word)
• The appointment was nearly an hour long and I only had to intervene once.
• There was 15 minutes before the onset of the intervention.
• The intervention was pretty painless and straightforward.

Now the not-so-obvious triumphs.

• The Elder was sitting on the bench – and criss cross applesauce to boot. (This would be opposed to wallowing in the floor or running outside in the parking lot)
• He verbally expressed his case of why he should be allowed to remain where he was seated. (as opposed to physically expressing his case with his fist or teeth or saliva)
• The Younger complied on first request (not without whining, but without any oppositional defiance)

Finally the triumphs that could easily slip away if I wasn’t intentionally seizing them.

• The Elder had all of his clothes on, including his shoes.
• Both kids were wearing their glasses at all times.

Therefore in a single event, I’m able to seize greater than 100% more triumphant moments! Sometimes all I can walk away with is the fact that “Both kids were wearing their glasses at all times,” and sometimes I can’t even claim that moment and must settle for “We found their glasses before we left, flung atop the the silk tree in the lobby, and eventually repaired them, at no additional cost.” Maybe I’m crazy, but that makes me feel lucky!

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The Elder’s massive spoonfuls of grub being shoveled into his mouth at a high velocity rarely reaches the goal of getting food into his mouth as much as spilling it all over the table, chair, and floor. (Thank goodness we are at the point I can omit “walls” from that list!) I think his reasoning is “the faster I eat the sooner I can be done with this miserable task.” In this particular scenario I could probably tack on “and check out what’s happening on the computer.”

Those who have known him since birth know that motor skills and sensory defensiveness have not allowed him (or others in his vicinity) to enjoy how wonderful the experience of feedings can be. When it comes to meals that require utensils (mashed potatoes for some reason doesn’t fall under this category), he is actually a slow eater. He just stuffs it all in his cheeks like a chipmunk as fast as he can and then slowly swallows his food. It appears to be tactile foods like oatmeal or rice and boneless meat of the day (again I ponder why mashed potatoes aren’t on this list). Medicine also makes the cut to be swallowed slowly. Blech! It takes him so long to swallow a teaspoon of tylenol regardless of what flavor it is. But I digress…

I hope today is a turning point for this dilemma that has plagued our dinner table for years. I pray that we will have family dinners in the future of all of us sitting and eating together instead of one of us constantly asking if he can be excused before we’ve even started eating – or even have made it to the table!

As I watched that mountain of rice topple over (thank goodness back into his bowl!), The Ever Elusive Brilliance surfaced…

Brilliant Life Skill of the Day:
“If the food doesn’t fit in the spoon, then the bite is too big.”

I really wish I thought of this sooner. So simple. As soon as this logical explanation left my lips, I could see him reprogramming his brain and he began to process how much food was actually on his spoon. He not only slowed down to mentally calculate the food to spoon ratio, but he also significantly reduced the probability of speaking with his mouth full and we actually had a small conversation about Amazon.com.

We have also employed a number of other “tricks” to reduced the stress of mealtimes – a big one being “keeping them seated” since without that they were just grazers and “meals” were a fleeting concept. What trials have you encountered and how have you resolved them?

Related posts:

1. Reclaiming Control
2. The Aftermath – False Evidence
3. What’s all the talk?

It all began when I decided to “spring clean” our dishwasher. The door panel had stains (I’m hoping from coffee and tea) and crusties (displaced rice and grits, I pray) and really gross floaties swum around the bottom (don’t really wanna guess). I was able to do a really great job of scrubbing and making it shine and glisten… until I got to the floaties.  I delegated that to The Hub as I suspected that the standing water was probably a sign of a clog and I wasn’t quite brave enough to venture there. It’s not as much OCD or germ-a-phobia than it is a tactile aversion. I was wearing heavy duty gloves but there are some tasks where only the imagination suffices to make me avoid it. In the meantime, I was not onboard with putting another dish in it for its intended use, not convinced it could fulfill its purpose. I’m sure I would’ve had nightmares about dishwasher floaties coming after me every evening until The Hub remedied the issue.

No dishwasher?!? Oh no! Not sure which nightmare was worse…

I reminded myself that washing dishes by hand is not a big deal. The Brothers and I had spent most of the summer at the beach in a small condo that had a dishwasher, but with just the three of us, we used so little dishes that it rarely got filled up to justify running it. It was actually more irritating to try to fill it up than it was to just go ahead and wash them. Besides, when I was growing up, my mom only used our dishwasher to blanch ears of corn. Washing the dishes by hand was just something that we did, often together. And when The Hub and I first got married and moved into our first apartment, we stored our plastic shopping bags in our dishwasher. I remember actually baking his birthday cake and hiding it in the dishwasher because I knew he would never look in there and accidentally find it before its debut. So a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, washing dishes by hand was my way of life.

So I decided I wouldn’t just succumb to washing the dishes myself…I decided to commit to washing the dishes myself.

It’s a scary commitment. It’s not like at the condo where I took the path of less irritation. On a baking day at the condo, it sure was nice to have the option of tossing them in the dishwasher and let it take care of the greasy or caked on mess. But once we were a family of four again and in non-vacay mode, the daily dishes and pans consumption had increased. And once we had returned to our 2 story home, corralling the dishes is more difficult. It was not uncommon to load a kitchen full of dishes, only to find another sinkful-worth of dishes scattered throughout the house. How would I ever keep up without the dishwasher?!? I think I had a mini panic attack as I faced my dilemma. This decision may have started out as necessity, but turned into an opportunity.

Changes which have occurred since the early retirement of our dishwasher:

• Discipline = Cleaner Kitchen Counter = Happy Mom = Happy Family

Before: Because we make our own bread, it seemed as if our counter was constantly littered with crumbs. But it also had its fair share of coffee/tea rings and other unidentified objects.

After: My mom taught me that after every dish-washing exercise I must wipe up the excess water in the surrounding area and the table and seats. Well, since I got the rag in my hand already, I might as well take care of all the counters and the stove to boot. It really doesn’t expend that much more time or energy especially since its 2-3x a day.

• Structure = Less Kitchen Counter Clutter = Happy Mom = Happy Family

Before: Dishes would pile up beginning at breakfast until right before bed when dishes got loaded into the dishwasher. Just looking at our inventory all day long was enervating.

After: Breakfast dishes get washed and are dry by the time lunch comes, when they just get reused. Ditto for dinner. I’m thinking about a serious inventory clearance sale in our future.

• Self-Motivation = Cleaner Kitchen Floor = Happy Mom = Happy Family

Before: We relied on The Skipper Dog to do the daily heavy lifting. But sometime the crumbs and the homemade gluten-free flour experiments got too entangled with his shed hair for him to successfully lap up.

After: The Hub has been bringing out the broom at night while I’m washing the dishes! On his own accord!

There is no more standing water in the dishwasher from the clog. I’m not sure if The Hub fixed it, or just sucked it all up with the wet-vac, and I’m not sure if I want to know the truth because I don’t want to be tempted to cave.

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In your anger do not sin: Do not let the sun go down while you are still angry, and do not give the devil a foothold.

Ephesians 4:26-27

Anger is like the ultimate vulnerability for me. Whereas some people can use that adrenaline to be motivated, like win a game or complete a task to perfection, I, on the other hand have a history of utilizing that extra energy to babble nonsense without end and/or blubber like a wimp, then throw my hands up in defeat. It’s not very productive or flattering. It leaves me feeling embarrassed, out of control, and overwhelmed at the new messes I’ve just created.

I have been surprised at the unlikely places that Anger rears its ugly head in my life. I was really blind to how much I reacted in anger on a daily, sometimes hourly (is minutely a word?), basis. The many faces of Anger eluded me in my general happy-go-lucky, que-sera-sera, God’s-got-my-back mentality. The study is teaching me to recognize these quick-to-fade moments before they get away. (I feel pretty ridiculous when I’m wavering back and forth, “I think that made me mad, but I’m not sure.”) But the most helpful skill I’m trying to master is categorizing both the big and small episodes into one of 3 categories

Anger is defined as an intent to preserve personal worth, essential needs, and basic convictions.

by taking the time to question why I was feeling angry (frustrated/unloved/manipulated/betrayed/jealous/etc) in that instant. I keep asking myself Why? until I come to a conclusion over which I have 100% control. It is a liberating moment. The final solution is not always apparent nor remotely related to the problem at hand. Sometimes it is simply admitting that the only control I have in the situation is to forgive myself and forget it.

Now the ease of that process comes under the assumption that I’ve had enough sleep, food, the planets are all aligned, and no one is in my personal space. In the more common doozy situations, when I am unable to maintain a clear head, I have scripted a “life boat” prayer to say when I’m just too upset to contemplate the right thing or have already overstepped my boundaries.

Lord, please provide me with a positive and productive distraction right now. Amen.

I’m only on Tenet #4 of thirteen so I hope I’m not digging myself into a neighboring hole with that one. Tossing Why? among the diverse and abundant selection of controversy in my life has led me to face some uncomfortable truths – including that my problem solving skills (which I have previously held in high esteem) have been abducted and secretly replaced by very savvy and creative skills of distraction and avoidance. Hmmm, I wonder why…

No related posts.

I’ve been spending the last year physically and mentally healing. I stripped my slate down to literally the bare necessities. I labeled it “The Year of Non-Commitment” and I followed through with it. It sounds boring but it has been one of the busiest and hardest and best years of my life. My plate stayed full despite my pruning. Migraines and backaches controlled my days. Relationships were strained. And “stuff” kept oozing from the tiniest of crevices. I can’t even imagine how insane I would been had I not already eliminated my duties towards my career, the ASDa board, volunteering, and of course, my blog.

My journey of healing included: weaning myself off prescriptions and over-the-counter meds, detoxing my body and overhauling my diet, participating in a small group study, putting a finishline on a 9-year grief cycle, and investing my new found energy into a self-study and an anger management course, which has in turn freed up a lot of energy for me to do other stuff…fun stuff…like a vacation…without kids…or husbands.

So far in my journey,  I’ve been “small group hopping” for 1.5 years. The length of time it has taken me to heal is probably indicative of my inconsistency of attending my groups. But the time I have spent in my groups has been invaluable. First, in teaching me a new appreciation of independently reading the Bible, I’ve been able to reconcile a lot of concepts and doubts and confusion I held in my mind regarding my personal spirituality. Second, in being among friendly people, the social butterfly in me was finally able to emerge from her cocoon. Third, perspective, perspective, perspective. Ever hear the one about If we all put our issues in a big pile and then got to choose an issue from that pile, we all would pick up our own issues? My issues aren’t necessarily better or worse than the next person’s but they are mine – all mine. And while I might covet another parent’s ability to sign their child up for a team sport, I certainly do not covet the responsibilities both time-wise and financially they incur because of that freedom. And fourth, in allowing ourselves to be vulnerable, I not only receive the prayerful support I desperately need from friends, but also can provide that same prayerful support to them as well.

²⁴ And let us consider how we may spur one another on toward love and good deeds, ²⁵ not giving up meeting together, as some are in the habit of doing, but encouraging one another—and all the more as you see the Day approaching.

Hebrews 10:24-25 (NIV)

Now then… I thought I had a pretty good grasp on the scope of my mourning. But I had grossly overlooked the most obvious situation that was overdue for bereavement. Through a family tragedy, I was able to discover I was stuck in the very early denial stage of grieving my miscarriage – The Eldest, I might call him. No one knew about the pregnancy. No one. Not even that we were even trying to start a family finally after 7 years of marital bliss. After the loss, no one still was aware of the existence. The Hub and I mourned in silence with a “Why bother?” attitude. We rescued The Skipper Dog to cheer us up (and boy did he!). Six months later I was pregnant with The Elder.  In my head, I thought that I had completed that grief cycle, accepting that God’s timing is impeccable and resolving that if the pregnancy had gone to term, The Elder would not have been born when he was, and his birthday has played a MAJOR role in many of the divine blessings we have received in early intervention.  But in actuality what I had done was deny the little being my love.  Alongside a dear loved one, I was able to feel her pain so strongly because I realized it was my pain, too. Her graceful and raw way she openly grieved was a window into my subconscious.  I’m so proud of her and grateful at how well she is handling her experience. She helped me give The Eldest an identity, ask for forgiveness, and to say good-bye. I can’t thank her enough.

Above all, I’m most proud of my physical healing. I think without it, my mental (nor spiritual) healing could have been resurrected (no pun intended). I contemplate everything I put in my mouth (except for the occasional foot). I’ve successfully weaned myself off all medications. I’ve been independent for 2.5 months! Not even an allergy pill! I use food for medicine or fast for a day when I need it, but mostly try to just stay healthy so I don’t need medicine to begin with. My dietary changes have not only improved my health, but also my budget. First because I conducted a short-term fast (7 days). Water is butt cheap. When I broke the fast, my body decided what I could or could not eat. (Sadly, I still must live a gluten-free lifestyle, which does offset budgetary gains of the new diet.) I have eliminated red meat and pork and only eat fowl in moderation (kids’ leftovers usually). Second, I eat mostly fruits and vegetables. Super cheap – even organic is cheap in comparison to my former diet. I don’t do well with processed corn, like in tortilla chips, but have no trouble with popcorn or kernel corn. There’s something else I can’t handle but I haven’t pinpointed what it is.  (I keep eating dairy (my indulgence) and I’m in denial that it affects me negatively in any way shape or form. How could something so yummy be harmful?) Third, I discovered I have an affinity for gardening. Unfortunately I’m a terrible gardener. My green thumb is the novice shade of green. I’m sure it has a lot to do with my attention span and tactile defensiveness rather than ability. But to compromise between love and talent, I’ve started sprouting. I’m pretty darn good at it. And I can eat alfalfa all the live long day. I also grow my own wheatgrass – chock full of antioxidants, my medicine. Much cheaper than the 90-day prescription deals. And fourth, I realized that I really do like to cook. Cooking is so much less expensive than eating out or pre-packaged foods. I can guarantee it will be gluten-free, and with the proper systems now in place, it hasn’t taken up all my time like I imagined it would. After all of these years of letting The Hub hang his flag in the kitchen, I claimed my ground and surprisingly have pleased all members of the family (even visiting relatives). I totally recognize that my attention span would not be in favor for a catering job, but something about cooking for my family makes me feel whole.

Now that the fog has lifted, I’m so much happier and so is my family (I hope so at least).  I lost a ghastly amount of weight during the 7-day fast, but have just about recovered completely to my original weight MINUS all the swelling and most of the cysts/fibroids that were forming in my body. That means less headaches, less trips to the chiropractor, better circulation, clearer thinking and more energy. Even when I looked my campiest, I was feeling dramatically better than I had in at least 3 years.

[lightbulb moment:] THIS is why I blog. In the process of summarizing the stuff in my head to avoid rambling on and on and boring the reader to death, a theme just emerges from the pages. (I wish I could brag of writer’s foresight and mad executive function skillz, but alas, I cannot.)  When I type on the fly about just the basic facts (plus a commentary or two as I always have parallel thoughts going on. Squirrel!), I’m able to see myself so much better.  Awareness is enlightening and frightening at the same time. So this is the lesson I’ve been taught today via this post: It’s been said that if you’re not growing, you’re dying. I’d like to add a twist to that - if you’re not loving, you’re dying.  Personal growth is the result of learning to love where I was not willing to love before.

“Are you willing to spend time studying the issues, making yourself aware, and then conveying that information to family and friends? … If some among you fear taking a stand because you are afraid of reprisals from customers, clients, or even government, recognize that you are just feeding the crocodile hoping he’ll eat you last. (October 27, 1964)”

~ Ronald Reagan

I’ve still got a long row to hoe before I can harvest the title “Healed,” but it is so nice to take a big crop of perspective and be able to enjoy the journey – living and loving life today, weeds and all.

Related posts:

1. Happy Patty’s Day
2. Happy Bloggiversary to Me

“Stop making excuses and follow my directions.”

This resulted in immediate compliance with NO lingering foul mood. I know! I had to inconspicuously pick my jaw off the floor and replace the ‘I’ve Had It’ adult-whine posture with a more confident ‘That’s Right…I’m the Boss…and I Totally Plan to Say Smart Stuff Like that all the Time cause I’m Smart and all’ stance.

I realized The Elder had reached a developmental milestone!

“…children master a variety of alternative strategies for resolving conflict. They can cajole the adversary, use bargaining, suggest compromise or cooperation (like turn-taking), and redirect conflict through humor.”

The School Years: Psychosocial Development – Social Problem-Solving Skills. The Developing Person Through The Life Span – (Berger)

So what’s the big deal? All 1st graders have mastered the art of manipulation, right? Yes! It’s ‘normal’! Yay! I haven’t decided if I’m more excited about his being developmentally on track or about his finally catching up with his nonverbal abilities!

For so long The Elder didnt say anything longer than 2-3 word phrases and only when prompted (and re-prompted). If he needed to initiate communication, it was physical and completely unrelated to his desire or need. For example, instead of pointing to a drink if he was thirsty, he would strip naked or throw his glasses across the room. It was as if he was fed up that no one was attending to his mental request after repeatedly thinking it. ‘Come on, people! If I’ve telepathically tried to connect with you once, I’ve done it a thousand times. It goes in my ear and out your ear! What do I have to do to get heard around here? Sheesh.’

When he was finally verbal, I heavily relied on listening to everything he would say in order to fully understand his triggers. And after some super-sleuthing, it would often fill in the gaps of why past meltdowns occurred. It was fascinating to finally learn the Reasons for his behaviors.

“How children think is as important as what they know.”

The School Years: Cognitive Development – The Legacy of Piaget. The Developing Person Through The Life Span – (Berger)

His Reasons were always literal (raw is more accurate) and logical (tho not obviously connected). While the former is to be expected, his logic far surpasses his age level. When he was 3 he tested beyond Kindergarten (he actually beat the test because it ran out of questions). At 4, his age equivalence was 11 years, 9 months. Because of this, I think there were a lot of unfair expectations for him to be more pragmatically mature. That discrepancy has been hard to parent, especially before awareness, but I imagine it is even harder to have.

Because of early intervention and inclusion, I think that gap is closing as he practices conversational skills. I noticed that his barrage of Reasons became Excuses when I, The Mom, couldn’t find an underlying connection between his words, body language, and past experiences. The usual and oh-so-confusing ‘complacent’ or ‘defiant’ reactions would then be displayed with integrity.

Do you know how freeing that feels? My brain gets to put the magnifying glass down more often…at least until adolescence…knock on wood…

Related posts:

1. about Mimicking: Youngerese is starting to sound a little familiar
2. Parenting with Aspergers
3. When 2 vowels go walking…

I can see how a physical characteristic or wound can be labeled severe, moderate, or mild. I can see an talent, ability or a disability can be described as high or low.

But what do these term mean when used in the context of Autism. Below is just an excerpt of the definition of function. How do we know that we are all using the same one? Are we offending people and not aware of it? Are we assuming these are the names of “official” diagnoses because they are popularly used by the general public?

func·tion [fuhngk-shuhn]
–noun

1. the kind of action or activity proper to a person, thing, or institution; the purpose for which something is designed or exists; role.
2. any ceremonious public or social gathering or occasion.
3. a factor related to or dependent upon other factors: Price is a function of supply and demand.
4. Sociology. the contribution made by a sociocultural phenomenon to an ongoing social system.

-verb (used without object)

1. to perform a specified action or activity; work; operate: The computer isn’t functioning now. He rarely functions before noon.
2. to have or exercise a function; serve: In earlier English the present tense often functioned as a future. This orange crate can function as a chair.

I must admit that in the past, it used to make me extremely irate whenever someone would describe The Elder (or The Hub) as “mild” or “high-functioning.” I even had a mom (who happened to also have a son with autism) tell me shortly after we received The Elder’s dx, “Oh…well that’s the good kind.” These labels offended me because it made me feel like I didn’t have a right to be affected by it or that the impact wasn’t too far from normal. I felt totally blown-off and invalidated. Maybe you can relate if your loved one has HFA or AS? My family (and others on this side of the spectrum) has many high- and low-functioning skills with their diagnoses. Many of which are invisible or intangible because they are mental/emotional/sensory processing skills. Yet because they can read, talk, walk, even run a marathon, etc – the tangible traits – no one knows just how much they struggle every single day to merely get through a day that involves any kind of interaction with another person…even with just their spouse.

On the flipside, it would formerly make me equally perturbed to hear a person labeled as “low-functioning.” Perhaps this person cannot talk, make eye contact, or only expresses him/herself through gestures and stimming and meltdowns. By definitions #1 and #1 (lol) above, these functions are indeed lacking. However, because of current testing procedures and standards this person may be categorize as mentally retarded or psychotic. It fills me with wonderment to imagine just how brilliant one can be if only we had an effective communication tool, as in the case of Sue Rubin.

Severe, moderate, and mild are much more accurate in my opinion, yet I still do not personally ¹ like using those terms because “mild” insinuates that a person’s situation is easier than if it were “moderate” or “severe.” That is different for each person. “Severe” would make my heart sink whenever I heard it, and although it is the most accurate descriptor for many people on the spectrum, it was just plain too depressing for me to say.

So I adopted new terminology for my new life-long journey to keep me in my happy place. This way, I wouldn’t get mad at people, I wouldn’t offend anyone (I hope), and I wouldn’t make myself sad over vocabulary words. Over time and nowadays, I accept that people will always use those terms, so I just needed to get used to it and get over it! And even though it still doesn’t make me do the happy dance, I’ve used the terms on occasion, but not without also using air-quotes (with the accompanying intonations) or appending my preferred jargon.

Find Out Alternative Ways to Describe your Loved One with Autism

Instead of:	I prefer to say: 1
autistic, has autism, aspergers, pdd-nos, etc	on the spectrum, has ASD, has an autism spectrum disorder 2
low-functioning/high-functioning, mild/moderate/severe	non-verbal, verbal, on the left-side or right-side of the spectrum, mild/medium/spicy 3
autism as a general description/explanation for a specific challenge Her autism makes her sensitive to noises. Because of his autism, he cannot participate in gymnastics.	specific dysfunctions, eg. delayed motor skills, sensory issues, being male, being [insert age here], etc 4 Her auditory defensiveness makes her sensitive to noises. Because of his gross motor skills, he cannot participate in gymnastics (yet).

This is the visual I picture when I used the terms “left side” or “right side.” I really like this image because I’m a statistics nerd Rosenn’s diagram not only depicts a horizontal spectrum of diagnoses, but also a “spectrum” for each point on on the diagnoses spectrum illustrating the range within each diagnosis. Note that the wedge is not a population count. In other words, it doesn’t mean that the right side is more common than the left. It merely means that those on the left side most likely have similar characteristics of autism from person to person. In contrast, those on the right side may have completely different characteristics from individual to individual. So, if there was a comprehensive list of indications of autism, those on the left may have all or most of them checked, whereas those on the right side would have a smaller percentage of the items checked with the likelihood that any two persons’ checked items are not the same.

Clear as mud?

“If you’ve met one child with autism, you’ve met one child with autism.”

–variant of a common phrase in the autism community

¹ This is strictly my preferences and not a judgment on those who use the terms in the left column. Yes, I do use the those terms on occasion, but I also prefer to have a clean house…
² Stay tuned for an upcoming article in this series on the terms autism, aspergers, spectrum disorder.
³ Please do not be offended by my warped sense of humor.
⁴ A hybrid alternate: referring to the dysfunction as a characteristic of autism.

Related posts:

1. about Perspective (Part 1): What would you do? How would you feel?
2. Slowly getting over denial
3. Amendment to the amendment

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