Five reasons why I blog. And why it's a struggle.

Blogs are funny things. They provide an amazing avenue for average Joes and Bettys to share information, ideas, creativity, memorable moments, frustrations, recommendations and rants with a wide audience. Some blogs are inspiring to read, and some blogs are infuriating. Some blogs encourage me to want to be a better mom/wife/homeschooler/human being/Christ follower, and others can make me feel like crap.

"She has five kids who are bilingual and makes her own laundry detergent??
I'm the wooooorst!"

It is tempting to feel rather self-indugent when blogging. Is it narcissistic to think others would be eager to know my personal thoughts on certain topics? Who in the heck do I think I am to suppose that anything I write hasn't already been written a hundred times before by the throngs of men and women already clogging the internet with their noisy rants, with their perfectly edited photos of their perfectly dressed children doing perfectly executed activities?

There are plenty of bad reasons to write.  But there are also plenty of good reasons.

Five Reasons Why I Blog:

1) To Simplify. It's an easy way to organize resources, articles, and ideas to share. My mind can easily become a jumbled mess, especially when trying to talk to someone about homeschooling, parenting, special needs, etc. Writing things down in a coherent way forces me to systemically organize my thoughts to better share it with others when asked.
2) To Think. It helps to keep my brain sharp...ish. Creative writing is good for the ol' noggin.
3) To Encourage. My hope is that these posts encourage family, friends, and strangers who visit in their pursuit of the love of learning. Maybe an idea I stumbled upon will help another parent or homeschooler who is also trying to just figure things out.
4) To Remember. It helps me see how far we've come, how far we still need to go, and to not give up in the good work we've been given.
5) To Create. I love making worksheets and printables for our school and home, and finding fun ideas to spice up otherwise mundane school tasks! And it's easier to justify time spent tweaking and editing cute labels if I can share it with someone else.

To be honest, I go through an inner battle each time I post another blog entry. I originally began writing this post two weeks ago, but was too fearful/doubtful/self-depricating to think it worth sharing.

Here's why it's so hard to hit the "publish" button after writing a new post.

Why It's So Dang Hard:

1) Inner doubts/fears. What if what I share isn't good? What if it isn't helpful? What if it makes others think that I believe I'm better than I actually am? What if I DO think I'm better than I actually am? (BAHAHAHA - oh wait you're serious?) What if it evokes feelings of guilt in fellow moms if their choices/lifestyle is different than mine? That last question always crushes me.
2) Scrutiny. Putting yourself out there for the whole world wide web is scary. It allows people to see how you manage your time, resources, family, and everything in between. And everyone has an opinion about it... sometimes they have no qualms about letting you know it. And maybe they're RIGHT.
3) Guilt. Making time to write takes away from a million other things I could be doing. Mom guilt is oppressive and doesn't require much stimulation to balloon into a crushing weight.
4) Inadequacy. I know I'm not an expert in education. Or parenting. Or LIFE, for that matter. I'm a mess most days. I am not the most experienced, creative, organized, amazing mom/educator out there. I'm just me, in all my failed-science-experiment-forgot-to-prep-math-lesson-fed-the-kids-candy-for-breakfast glory.

"Mom, what exactly are we doing here? Drawing a stick?"

BUT... if I truly believe that each person is created with unique giftings, insights, and experiences that can benefit others, then I must believe that about myself. I have been genuinely encouraged, entertained by, and inspired by other bloggers, and it was because of their honesty, humor, and enthusiasm - not perfection.

A long time blogger I love to follow MOM- Not Otherwise Specified just posted about this struggle after almost a year long hiatus (follow link to her post, so good). It couldn't have been more timely, or poignant.

So I'm going to keep writing, and you should too. Just put it out there, and everyone might hate it... or love it... or not even read it.

Don't stop. Press on. (And press "Publish" already.)

Click.

Speaking in Stories and Autism

A few months ago, my husband Jason ran across a review of Pulitzer Prize-winning reporter Ron Suskind's book Life, Animated: A Story of Sidekicks, Heroes, and Autism. In his book, he describes his son Owen's autism diagnosis and limited communication, and how Owen was able to find his voice by quoting and referencing Disney movies to communicate his feelings and observations of the world around him.

Owen had a breakthrough around six years old, when he observed his brother having a meltdown after a birthday party. He referenced a Disney movie to express his observations of the situation and attempt to understand why his brother was upset.

“ ‘Walter doesn’t want to grow up,’ he [Owen] says evenly, ‘like Mowgli or Peter Pan,’” Mr. Suskind recalls. It is Owen’s first complex sentence, and he says it looking straight at his parents. Later that day, Mr. Suskind picks up a puppet of Iago, the parrot sidekick in Disney’s animated “Aladdin.”
“So, Owen, how ya’ doin’?” he asks in Iago’s voice. “I mean, how does it feel to be you?”
“I’m not happy,” Owen answers. “I don’t have friends. I can’t understand what people say.”
A whole new world begins.*

*Source:  http://www.nytimes.com/2014/05/22/books/life-animated-by-ron-suskind.html?_r=0

His parents immediately saw an opportunity to help Owen learn and communicate using Disney movies as observations of social interaction and understanding emotions. AND IT WORKED.

Owen's story completely resonated with us. Our sweet daughter G-Bug is a social, loving, zany eight-year-old on the autism spectrum. She has come a long way in the three years since her diagnosis, and yet things like expressing her inner thoughts and feelings are still extremely difficult and rarely communicated to anyone.

Like Owen, G-Bug recently displayed just how powerful stories and narratives impact her, and how they can also help her communicate her own thoughts and feelings.

Gracie rediscovered a VHS copy of the movie "The Lion King" in our basement, and asked to watch it over and over. It's a great story - a young lion who tragically loses his father and, assuming he is responsible, runs away. Over time, he realizes that he must face his past, and step into the role he was meant to take: a good and protective leader and king. Gracie was enthralled, but never really wanted to talk about the themes or her thoughts on the movie when I tried to prompt a conversation. I assumed she was just digging the music and the the Pumba fart jokes. What kid wouldn't?

A couple of weeks later, we were sitting at the table doing math problems and singing Hakuna Matata. Out of the blue, she remarked, "You know, the past can hurt sometimes."

Surprised and curious, I said, "Well, yes that's true. Are you thinking of something in particular?"

"Yes," she said. "Like when someone dies."

She then talked about someone she loved like a grandfather who had passed away the year before. She talked about how she saw that his death affected specific people who were still grieving his loss, even though they didn't really show it. I was stunned at her insight, her observations, and her ability to articulate things I had never guessed that she was feeling or observing.

And then the moment passed. Two minutes of deep, heartfelt conversation and then it was abruptly over. She has never talked about those things since.

People are complicated and difficult to understand sometimes. For people with autism, even more so. If you are trying to connect with and love someone on the spectrum, be open to new ways to teach or encourage relationships and empathy toward others. It might require calling on a lion prince, a wise cracking parrot, or a dragon tamer to open a well into a spring of deep thoughts and feelings buried below a seemingly barren surface.