It’s a peculiar thing.
The first time it happened, I was watching a wonderful documentary about Dyslexia. A surgeon was featured who only learned his diagnosis when his son first had learning problems.
My heart broke open in compassion for him. Imagine such a thing! Not knowing, for a (successful) lifetime that there was a reason for how and why this surgeon did as he did, struggled as he struggled, to conquer undergrad and medical studies, as an undiagnosed Dyslexic. Imagine the sheer tenacity! The creativity! The intelligence!
I hope he never called himself names. I’m certain he got discouraged, from time to time.
Although I am mildly dyslexic, I knew there were things about me, how I process information, and how I struggle with personal interactions and daily life that this first doc hinted at when, at the end, it introduced the concept of a “spectrum,” dyslexia at the one end, and autism at the other.
My general clinical knowledge of spectrum “disorders” was unfortunately weak. Hard-core core research began partly because middle school loomed for my dyslexic kid, and partly because Kryon talks about autistics being our family’s brave pioneers in multidimensional consciousness, but mostly because I suspected I was on the spectrum. But I could never figure out exactly where I belonged .
You know, it’s a peculiar thing.
Watching this, my heart broke open in compassion, it really did, but this time, for me.
What this fellow is describing are my insides. My internal experience was one that often baffled me, and convinced me I was inferior at times, though I was simply different than the norm.
The video hints at some of the native goofiness and weirdness you’ve perhaps come to cherish in your loved one, as I’ve come to cherish in me.
Anyone who has spent time with me knows that I have a heart of gold, but that there’s something there. Something different. Something odd.
I do my very best to express my gratitude and love for people, and maybe that’s kind of spectrum-y all in its own, but, being with people and connecting? It was something I feared, because I frequently failed miserably at it and, in the end, came to avoid.
I’ve come such a long way, and I’m ever in awe and gratitude for my peeps. They helped get me here.
I don’t want or need to discuss it with anybody, unless they want to bring it up, but that happens more than you’d think, because there are many who are touched by these attributes and traits, within themselves or their loved ones.
This goes out to all those folks, and especially to those coming to this later in the game. Bravo.
Ain’t it grand?
To be sure, many of we older ones stumble onto this because we have children or grandchildren with a spectrum diagnosis. We are discovering a brand new world of experts exploring frontiers in neurobiology, neuropsychology, nutrition and other endeavors.
Because it’s a natural outgrowth, and perhaps the purpose of the work, we now have access to strategies and tools, scientific research and a network of specialists to hook into. Applied, these often enhance daily life, and allow those who love someone on the spectrum to be easy with it.
If you’ve silently, defiantly, devotedly worked to “improve” yourself, having measured yourself to others to find vast, irreconcilable differences, take heart.
In fact, I want to give you a high-five five.
Greetings, my fellow multidimensional oddballs, my fellow freaks, loners, eggheads, outliers, the extraordinary, the quirky, the savants.
Don’t beat yourself up anymore. Ok?
We have something great under our hoods, and there are now, thankfully, experts who can help us appreciate and master our awesome operating systems!