The Blue Flamingo

Guess what? I got my nose pierced. Yes me! This lady-of-a-certain-age. wrong-side-of-45 and  whatever-other-category-you-want-to-file-me-under is now sporting a shiny, sparkly stud in her right nostril.

The day I got it done by the gloriously (and heavily) be-pierced Nikki, I was so excited. I couldn’t stop looking in the mirror or seeking out a tell-tale glisten as I passed by anything vaguely reflective. I felt immensely proud of myself for finally being brave enough to go and do something I’d simply talked about for years. Up until then it had been mere chat, one of those conversations you have after a few too many glasses of wine, full of bravado and usually with my free-spirit sister-in-law. But now, job done, I was living the dream.

However, about a month in, I had a major crisis of confidence. I’d been on holiday and gone swimming, quite a lot, despite explicit instructions from Nikki not to. As a result, my beacon of bravery was now red, inflamed, crusty and, dare I say it, oozing. Not quite the cool and funky look I was hoping to achieve. The voice inside my head, my sensible internal critic, berated met, screaming that this was nothing more than a mid-life crisis gone wrong.

Just at the point I was going to give up, take it out and let it heal over, pretending it had never happened, I stopped as it dawned on me why I had done it.

You see, my gorgeous, funny, smart, unique daughter was finally diagnosed with autism (ASD) with a side-helping of attention deficit (ADD) at the beginning of the summer. I say finally because, any person or family who has ever gone through this process will know that it’s far from straight-forward, or quick. To use one of my pet-hate phrases of the moment, it’s been a journey; for my husband, for me and particularly, my daughter.

ASD and ADD are both classed as neurological disorders, or to use less clinical (and more accepting) language, neurological differences or neurodiversities. In practice, it means that my daughter’s brain works differently to normal, neurotypical people and so a lot of the daily situations or experiences that we take for granted, she can find extremely difficult or stressful. What it doesn’t mean is that she is a stereotype; a Rain Man, a child genius or the kid who is bouncing off the walls 24/7. She is herself, a thoughtful, empathetic, kind almost 10-year old who has hopes and dreams for the future just like any other kid.

My daughter’s diagnosis has been a revelation to her, like finding the missing piece in a jigsaw puzzle. Up until that point, she had seen herself as different but had no explanation why. Like most girls of her age, she is desperate to fit in, to be accepted by her peer group and so puts an enormous amount of social effort into her day to be a fun and affable friend to many. Add to this her difficulties maintaining concentration and organising herself at school and it’s no surprise that she’s often running on empty by the time she steps out of the school gates. But now, with her self-proclaimed label of “Aspie Girl”, she’s beginning to understand that there’s a reason behind these difficulties and that there are countless others out there just like her.

I cannot deny that my daughter’s diagnosis has had a profound and irreversible effect on me. I feel like I’ve been pulled apart and pushed back together again. While she is still the same wonderful girl, I have changed. For the better, I hope. I feel freer than I have done for a long time, liberated and able to be bold and brave as a parent and in life in general. I am under no illusion that the rest of this journey will be an easy one, but I feel readier than I was before for whatever twists and turns it make take.

Which takes me nicely back to the nose-piercing and my reasoning behind it. Here was something I could do to show my daughter that it’s OK to be different. It was my ultimate act of solidarity, my touchstone to remind myself of who she is and what I have become.

Before her diagnosis, when I was in a particularly dark place, my daughter was chatting to me about how she felt. She summed it up beautifully by saying, “Mummy, I feel like a blue flamingo”. That picture has stuck with me ever since.

So next time you see this woman walking down the street sporting a shiny, sparkly nose stud, give her a nod and a smile. Because it’s here to stay. It’s my way of staying connected to my daughter and all the other blue flamingos out there; may they go through life being proud of providing a splash of blue in a sea of pink.

Autism is Out There

There’s so much great stuff in the media at the moment aimed at raising awareness, and increasing understanding, of autism.  Here’s two of my favourites; enjoy, spread the word and let’s continue to celebrate neurodiversity together!

The first is the new CBeebies television series, Pablo .  Aimed at pre-school and primary-aged kids,  it’s about a creative autistic boy who draws imaginary animal friends that come to life.  This helps him handle situations that make him feel anxious or confused.

It’s an absolute joy to watch, with its simple, child-like animations.  Every episode is grounded in the real-life experiences of autistic children, with autistic young writers and contributors helping to bring ideas and perspectives to life in an honest and fun way.  Each of the six animal characters reflect an aspect of Pablo’s own character and his autism.  My personal favourite is Mouse; with her super-sized ears it’s no surprise that she’s super-sensitive to noise.

Well done CBeebies!  It’s so important for young children to see themselves, their friends and their classmates reflected back to them within the wider media.  By creating programmes like Pablo, you offer the hand of acceptance, empathy and understanding from an early age and that can only be a good thing.

The second one on my hit-list is Michael Rosen’s Word of Mouth – Autism and Communication (currently available to listen to on the Radio 4 website).  We’re often told that people with autism have communication issues. But former children’s laureate Rosen turns that particular stereotype on its head by asking the question, what can the rest of society learn about communication from people on the autism spectrum?  He talks to Alis Rowe and Helen Eaton of the excellent  Curly Hair Project, a social enterprise initiative which supports people with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) and their families.

It’s frank, funny and thoroughly enjoyable and will make you realise just how confusing the vast majority of so-called normal communication can be to those with ASD.  Well worth a listen.

I’ll be sure to share any other interesting media snippets I come across that touch on the wonderful world of neurodiversity.  If you have any personal favourites that you’d like to share with me, then be sure to send me a link, either through my contacts or Facebook pages.  Thanks!

 

 

 

 

An interview by The Plucky Duck

The lovely Alistair Mackay (teacher, former journalist and writer of fabulous children’s picture books) recently interviewed me for his blog The Plucky Duck.  Check it out – the squirrel question at the end is just the best!

A little bit naughty!

Check out my guest blog “A little bit naughty!” on Yet another blogging mummy!

My definition is this

I have two new favourite words.  The first I stumbled across quite by chance flicking through a magazine while making dinner one night.  It’s petrichor, otherwise known as the pleasant smell that frequently accompanies the first rain after a long period of warm, dry weather.  I was delighted; here was a word that not only described one of my favourite smells but I loved the way it tripped off my tongue when I said it.  Petrichor, like pet-ri-kor.  It was delicious, unlike the dinner I was making at the time, which sadly ended up rather burnt as I scribbled my new word down in my little black book.

The second of my new favourite words is neurodiversity.  I like this word for different reasons, not because it’s pretty or elegant but because of what it stands for.  Let me explain by starting with one of the dictionary definitions I found (I do love a good definition!).  Neurodiversity, the range of differences in individual brain function and behavioural traits, regarded as part of normal variation in the human population.  Wow!  How fantastic!  No mention of difficulties or problems, or worse still, disabilities.  And here’s the clincher for me, that last part of the sentence, “regarded as part of normal variation in the human population”.

We are, thankfully, living in a time where differences, be they sexual, ethnic, religious or neuro, are not only increasingly accepted but often-times celebrated.  Okay, not by everyone.  I’m not naïve enough to believe that this is happening everywhere, you just need to watch the news to find plenty of evidence to the contrary.  But overall, I believe there is a trend towards openness.  (Personally, I like to think of the people that would prefer a mono culture, that are fearful of difference, as morally diverse.  But I digress.)

Neurodiversity, when used as an umbrella term for dyslexia, dyspraxia, ADHD and autism spectrum disorders, provides a wonderful word for our vocabulary which is both inclusive and positive, without offering-up a “one size fits all” label.  Because there is no such thing as a dyslexic person, an autistic person and so on, just a person that happens to have this, that or the other.  It recognises the uniqueness of the individual and by doing so offers the hand of acceptance, empathy and understanding.  And that can only be a good thing.  As human beings, we all seek to be understood.

Needless to say, neurodiversity has made it into my little black book.  Though unlike petrichor, it’s also made it into the list of words that I now use on a regular basis, either through writing or speaking.  I guess you could say I’m a neurodiversity advocate.  Just read “Vera McLuckie and the Daydream Club” to find out.