Archives for June 2012

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GUEST POST: It’s A Marathon, Not A Race

The first time I met Jennifer Krumins, she was having a fight with her laptop. She was slated to give a parent education presentation at George’s autism therapy centre, and she couldn’t get her technology to work. She endured some good-natured heckling from the front row (read: from my husband), got her PowerPoints to work, and went on to deliver a riveting presentation.

Jennifer is an autism parent, educator and author. She willingly shares her hard-earned wisdom for the benefit of parents who may be feeling a little overwhelmed by the whole special needs gig. Thanks to what I have learned from her, I have become somewhat good at advocating for my son in the school system without alienating anyone along the way. Whenever I start getting my annual IEP-related panic, I start posting stuff about it on Facebook in hopes that Jenn will respond with a gem of wisdom, and she always does.

Since the first time I met Jenn, I have attended more of her presentations and roped my mom into filling out a questionnaire for her book entitled Autism and the Grandparent Connection (which you really should read, even if you’re not a grandparent). We have become friends and we’re looking forward to having a drink together at this year’s autism symposium that Jenn will be presenting at.

Today, she tells us about her journey as an autism parent, and offers us some advice to help us along the way.

I don’t run marathons. I really admire people who do. I have some friends that train faithfully and test their endurance over the course of a few hours…by choice!

I am the parent of a sixteen year old boy with autism. Biggest marathon of my life. Yes, raising a child with autism is perhaps the supreme test of endurance. And yet, like many of my running friends, I would sign up to do it again because in my memory, the moments of success were far more remarkable than the moments of pain, exhaustion and heartbreak.

So what are the secrets of our successful marathon? Is it a medicated state of euphoria that I am experiencing….only to be rudely awakened by reality when the meds wear off?

No. I can honestly say that while the road has been long, harrowing at times and I have fallen on my butt on many an occasion…the journey has delivered far more emotional, intellectual, spiritual and social growth than our family could have dreamed.

The secrets have been revealed to me through fellow “autism marathoners,” trial and error, and most of all through the wisdom of children with autism (my own son and those students whom I have had the privilege to teach). I have learned some valuable tips to enrich the journey and increase endurance:

1. Instead of carb loading…try optimism loading. It’s very good for you and your child! Optimism is a way of looking at life and its inherent stresses. Being an optimistic person does not mean that one is always happy and peppy… it is that you choose to look for opportunity in the middle of adversity. Feed your brain with daily/hourly reminders that adversity is temporary, and that your child is making progress (even if it’s tiny steps). “Children learn what they live,” and as the adults in a child’s life it is our responsibility to model an attitude of positive persistence and hope. We can choose to believe that there is hope, meaning and joy within any given moment.

2. Take a long term approach to training. You would not be able to run your first marathon immediately after deciding to do so. You need to train. It’s the same thing with raising your child. Too often, we get stuck on a panic button in the early years. We may feel like we have to do it all right now in order to win the race against autism. It doesn’t work that way. Live in the present but plan for the future. Each day, each hour that you invest in being the kind of parent you want to be has a cumulative effect. In the long run, it is the lessons of perseverance, self- advocacy, and hope that will develop your child’s ability to be resilient and to ignite a sense of self- worth and self -confidence. Children learn by doing….by failing and trying again. They do not gain self- confidence when we tell them they can do it….and then we do it for them. The values you live by will be the greatest gift you give your child with autism….more than any treatment/intervention.

3. Visualize and rehearse the route. What are your long-term goals for your child? What do you envision for your child in the future? Design your plan so that you not at the mercy of someone’s map. Take the time to write down your thoughts on the following: What are my child’s strengths, skills, interests, challenges and limitations? What about my child gives me the most joy? What are my biggest fears or worries? What goals do I value for my child’s development? What specific behaviours, or other problems, have I observed? How did I react? What did I do in the situation? What could I do better next time, if anything? Have I recently noticed any changes in behaviour or ability? Be prepared to share what you know with those who are on the journey with you (even if you don’t like them). But remember, your plan must be in writing.

4. Talk with folks along the way, enjoy the course, smile often. The autism marathon is a social event. Too often we try to do it alone and we burn out. We need each other. We even need the people that drive us nuts because they keep us running; trying to learn more, be more and advocate more. Choose not to allow bitterness, resentment and hatred ruin the journey. We are the ones who suffer (as do our children) when we allow destructive feelings to shape us. Advocate one step at a time, one person at a time with patience and humility. The journey is much richer when we allow others to help. It is a sign of strength and selflessness to say, “Yes, I could use your help.”

5.  Set goals. Work to achieve them and stay focused on the things you want. Your life does not wait until you “fix” the autism. This is it. Treat your life as the gift it is. The time is now to take figure out what you will be living in the next five years (ten and twenty). Start with small steps towards those goals. Catch yourself if you are waiting to live your life. Perhaps, autism is in some way a vehicle for achieving those goals. Seize the time and model for your child what it looks like to live a goal directed life.

The marathon continues. There are more times of peace now…but never for too long. Struggle creates a rich environment for personal growth. Just set your eyes and heart on the target and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

To learn more about Jennifer and the books that she has written, check out Autism Aspirations.

(Photo credit: Jennifer Krumins)

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Random Ramblings On A Sunday Morning

Yesterday, I got a new pair of running shoes. In a dramatic departure to the norm, I did not get New Balance – the shoes I have insisted on running in right from the start. Instead, I got Newtons, which are designed to help runners improve their form. These shoes are going to change the way I run. My heel-striking days will be over, and I will become very aware of my calf muscles.

I will have to break the shoes in gradually, and as I sit here on a Sunday morning – the day of my long run – I have to resist the temptation to put the shoes on and take them for a 10K run.

I developed an interest in running long before I actually took it up. That is to say, I always enjoyed watching it, even if I was too lazy to get off my butt and do it. As a teenager, a prominent day in my annual calendar was the annual Comrades Marathon, an 89km run between the South African cities of Durban and Pietermaritzburg.

On Comrades Day, my dad and I would be up drinking coffee by five in the morning. We would turn on the TV to watch the pre-race goings on, wondering what the start-line energy must be like for such a huge event. Then we would watch the start, and spend the morning trying to predict how long it would take Bruce Fordyce to win. That he would win was never in question. He won the Comrades a record nine times. Eight of the wins were in consecutive years.

While Dad and I were glued to the TV, Mom would be making a huge batch of cookies in the kitchen, relishing the opportunity to bake without us hanging around asking why there weren’t any cookies yet.

After the top ten  men and women crossed the finish line, Dad and I would drift away from the TV and do something else, but we would always return at about five in the evening, to watch the final half-hour of the race. By that time, hundreds of runners would still be out on the course, trying desperately to make it to the finish line before the twelve-hour cutoff. When the finishing siren went off, we would always feel the agony of the runners who had made it into the stadium, but just couldn’t get to the finish line. So near and yet so far. For some of them, a split second was all that stood between them and a medal.

I miss those days, when the Comrades was as much a day for me and my dad as it was a day for the runners to give themselves the ultimate test. Now, my Comrades experience is limited to what I can see on the Internet, which is not the same as curling up in front of the TV. My dad, who died seven years ago, is not around for me to chat to about the runners or whether the number of participants has perhaps become too large. There is no aroma of freshly baked cookies coming from the kitchen.

One thing hasn’t changed, though. As I am scouring the Internet for Comrades-related news, my dad is with me.

Just as he always is when I go running myself.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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Writing: Beyond The Challenges

2012 is shaping up to be a busy year. In the last five months, I have taken an emergency trip to South Africa, run three races, and had my website revamped. I have also participated in two consecutive month-long blogging challenges, ending yesterday.

Today I am publishing a post for the 62nd day in a row. While I have thoroughly enjoyed these opportunities to indulge my passion for writing, I am ready to change the pace for a brief period of time. Blogging every day in addition to holding down a full-time job, parenting two young kids, and training for a half-marathon – well, it can be tiring.

I’m not planning on fading away into the sunset (particularly today, since it’s raining and there will be no sunset). Instead, I am going to work on other parts of my website that I have not had the time to get to yet.

I will be putting together a blogroll (if you would like your blog to be included, send me an email). I will be creating resources pages for the autism and running communities, and once I have made up my mind about the rest of the racing season, I will be updating my list of races.

My actual blogging will take a backseat for the next week or two, but I have lined up some guest writers to take care of that. I am truly excited to bring you some great stories from different walks of life, starting on Monday.

Before I quietly slip out through the side door to get more coffee, I will leave you with some highlights of the last two months of blogging. The posts mentioned below are the ones that have attracted the most views.

Highlights of the Health Activist Writers Month Challenge in April:

In Week 1, I described a conversation I had with my younger son about his understanding of his brother’s autism.

In Week 2, I wrote a letter to my 16-year-old self offering some words of hard-earned wisdom – not that she would listen to an old fogie like me.

Do you ever get stressed out about little things that really don’t matter? In Week 3, I gave myself a bit of advice, the gist of which was to just chill out.

I ran my second race of the season in Week 4, and wrote about how I found the zone.

Highlights of the 2012 Wordcount Blogathon in May:

I keep hearing people talk about how kids with autism are incapable of affection or empathy. In Week 1 of the Blogathon, I decided to try and bust that myth.

In Week 2, my younger son lost his first tooth, in more ways than one. We had to get the tooth fairy to come, even though we didn’t have the actual tooth.

May was Mental Health Awareness Month, and during Week 3 of the Blogathon, there was a Mental Health Blog Party. I wrote about postpartum depression, in hopes that sharing my experiences would help someone.

In Week 4 I wrote about the most precious of gems: those little moments with my family that make me feel like the richest person in the world.

I was feeling introspective for much of Week 5, and wrote about how I made peace with a decision that parents all over the world wrestle with.

The blogging challenges are done – at least for now. But the writing continues, because I will never run out of words.