When someone asks me to describe myself, the word
storyteller is always included. If I had to answer in one word, that would be
the one. I feel the most like myself when I am sharing ideas with others, be it
in print or in person. I love the dance of communication.
I studied rhetoric in college. I became a consultant to help
non-profit organizations share their stories. I’m a Facebook addict, primarily
because I’m fascinated by all of your stories. I free write, I journal, and
occasionally I blog.
I’ve offered anecdotes and monologues about raising a child on
the Autism spectrum because, at times, I have needed to let some of the emotion of
that charge out of my being. Many have graciously turned those pieces into
dialogues, which has helped keep me moving forward. To date, blogging has been
like a relief valve, allowing me to modulate the pressure I have felt inside.
Over the years, our family unit has endured through good
times and really, really bad times. We have learned as much as we could about
our son’s diagnosed challenges. We’ve learned as much as we could about him—and
from him. If there is anything I am an expert in, it’s him.
No family has worked harder to adapt to a family member’s
needs than ours. Many have tried as hard. Some have had more marked success. No
family has worked harder. Loved harder.
We have exhausted every readily available option—and ourselves.
We have thought outside of the box, and we have gone to extremes. We are just getting
started.
