SEE EVERY SPARROW

Dear Persons,

One way to describe Sensory Processing Differences (SPD) is by using a filter metaphor: the sensory and neurological filters of people with SPD filter feelings, experiences, and/or surroundings differently than do the sensory and neurological filters of most people.

Some of our filters filter out more. Sometimes people with this sort of filter are called “seekers,” because they seek more sensory input, or they are called “under-responders,” because they feel/notice/process less sensory input than the average person does. 

Some of our filters filter out less. Sometimes people with this kind of filter are called “avoiders,” because they avoid the overwhelming input that certain contexts produce. They are also sometimes called “over-responders,” because they feel/notice/process more sensory input than is typical. 

Of course, all people have different levels of sensitivity, but these differences are magnified for people with SPD. Many people with SPD live with a mixture of filters, perhaps being extremely sensitive to taste, while craving strong movement (yes, movement is a type of sense, in fact, several sorts of sense - but that’s another post!). 

Sometimes a high level of sensitivity can lead to a sort of sensory shutdown that can look like a low level of sensitivity! 

Sensory integration - the seamless intermeshing of the senses, and the “normal” processing thereof - can be challenging for people with SPD. My son G and I both live with a mixture of extra-strong and extra-weak filters. Bright lights and artificial odors can knock me out, but I have severe face-blindness (prosopagnosia) and can trip over my own feet. Lights, smells, even loud sounds don’t phase G - and he shares my face-blindness in abundance - but there are other things of which he takes uncommon notice. 

One of the most wonderful things about G is that he notices every single bird in our environment. Not just your cardinals and goldfinches, but every pigeon - “Look! A pigeon!” “Another pigeon!” and every single sparrow we pass on the street - “Oh mom - do you see those cute sparrows?” “Hey, guys - a sparrow!” “There’s a sparrow under that car!” etc. 

Some people dismiss this constant-noticing, or rib him good-naturedly about it (“Wow, a sparrow!”), and it’s sometimes inconvenient and time-consuming, but I celebrate it with all my heart.

Imagine a world where every individual person was noticed and appreciated, no matter how similar, no matter how different. Imagine a culture in which everybody took the time, made the effort, to really see every single other person. I dare to think such things as gossip, bullying, stereotyping…all those evils that come from pre-judging others and from not seeing each individual as equal and worthy in their own way…would disappear.  

G doesn’t filter out every sparrow as just another instance of a drab bird among many. Instead he enjoys a sense of wonder for each tiny miracle of sparrow individuality. 

What if we all tried to see every sparrow? 

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

PROSOPAG-WHAT-Y-WHO????

Prosopagnosia! Prosopagnosia is one manifestation of Sensory Processing Differences wherein your brain doesn’t process faces in the standard way. It’s also known as face-blindness. And both G and I have it.

I didn’t realize how severe my prosopagnosia was until I moved to Vermont. Living in this state is harder for me, recognition-wise, for two reasons. First, the population is almost entirely white. Living in New York City and other more diverse, generally urban environs most of my life enabled me to identify people partly by skin color and hair texture. Second, there was a style factor in these cities which is, shall we say, not so much in play here: flamboyance of dress is not as common in Vermont as I’d like it to be – and not just because I can’t tell anyone apart. As my dear friend Fern once said when we were in graduate school at Columbia University – an environs that felt to us downtown denizens like a bastion of preppiness in the midst of a then-freaky New York City -- “I feel like a drag queen here.” Come to think of it, we need more drag queens in Vermont, too!

ANYway, in a state where most people are white and dress casually, sportily. I find myself frequently faced with a friendly person who knows me, and expects me to know him or her. Which I probably do. But not by face.

Oh and another thing: small towns. In small towns you don’t just see someone where they work or attend a specific activity with you, where you naturally might develop contextual identification. No…in a small town, you also run into them and are expected to recognize them IN OTHER PLACES.

                                             Figure I – Basic Distinctions – Weak to Strong Recognition

                                                    Figure II – Bonus Distinctions – Strong Recognition

None of these observations – from skin color to hair length or texture or color to age to gender identity…--- is a judgment for G or me (well, maybe style -but I celebrate style diversity!). We are generally much too engaged in attempting to navigate this neurotypical world to feel critical of others’ looks. Visual differences (there are others uncatalogued here that may be helpful: moles, glasses, braces…) are just ways to recognize people.

Once I get to know someone well, I am able to recognize them…most of the time. Certainly close-up! This is not the case for all people with prosopagnosia, some of whom are never able to recognize even their closest associates. G has thought other women were me from time to time, and continues to do so; only when he gets right in front of them is he able to see that he was mistaken. Disconcerting – but I get it. In fact, it was through watching G have some pretty notable encounters of this sort that I began to realize that I had the same tendency. Before this dawning, I’d been prone to wondering why I could not distinguish between most of the mothers at drop off (or their kids, or who went with whom…), but I’d just put it in my “quirky me” category, with a side of “pathetic.” Around the same time, there was a great article in the New Yorker by Oliver Sacks ***http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2010/08/30/face-blind*** on this very subject (which also goes into topographical agnosia – another form of visual agnosia [lit.: not-knowing] - that I also share, but, luckily, G does not), and I realized there was a name for what G and I were experiencing!

G realizes that he has this Sensory Processing Difference, and that it’s something I, too, deal with. He’s learned to check himself in this area, and he’ll often say, now, “…Is that? …No.” He’s become more careful over time of calling out to his peers unless he’s sure it’s the person he thinks it is, which, frequently, it is not.

As G grows, he will be able to develop tools for recognition and hone his skills in this area. As awareness grows, he’ll know his face-blindness is a sort of Sensory Processing Difference that is shared by many. He’ll figure out his own best Distinctions, recognition-wise – and never need to call himself “pathetic.”   

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

An InLinkz Link-up

EXCUSES, EXCUSES…

Dear Readers,

The Full Spectrums are moving. Given that we are a gang with a lot of feelings, a lot of stuff (where did it all come from????), and sensory and behavioral differences, there is PLENTY of “writing material” here. However, time to actually write is nonexistent, not to mention my pronounced lack of the necessary mental and physical energy for anything beyond the basics of mothering, my work, and moving.

Please bear with me while I post much, much less than I would like…

In just over a week, I will be publishing a Sensory Blog Hope post about face-blindness.

After that, as soon as possible, I will be writing my next Third Anniversary Post, “Choosing Your Battles.”

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

TEAM FRIENDLY FACE

This is my plan: Over the next few months, I am going to somehow find those other kids (and their families) who are entering 7^th grade/middle school together who will NOT care if someone is “different” or “off” or “weird” and I am going to introduce them to each other. I want to have them know and remember each other’s faces so that when middle school starts they will have friendly faces in the halls and classrooms. (Also…I hope G and I will be able to recognize those friendly parents’ and kids’ faces!)

I both got this idea and started my search at the Middle School Orientation for parents with children in the “Special Education” program* (more on this, soon). Every single one of the parents there had direct, specific and personal concerns about their child getting bullied (among other things).

The woman to my right was crying as she spoke about her daughter being bullied “because she’s just…’off.’” Her fear about middle school was both reasonable and powerful. As she spoke, it occurred to me that my G could be a “friendly face” for her daughter – a peer who would never think she was “off”  -- and who wouldn’t care if she was, anyway! So I slipped her our digits with a little note to this effect.

I turned to look at another woman a few (empty) rows behind us, who’d been talking about her son’s difficulties in tying his shoes, how anxious and unhappy he will feel about this if other kids are judging him (and we’d almost all been nodding), thinking to give her our number too and her face was just – STRICKEN. She looked terrified and devastated and devoid of hope. Almost blank. I – with my sloooow thought process – processed that and then vowed to reach out to her as soon as we stood up. But she rushed out.

I am still thinking about “the lady who left,” because I feel like we need each other, and our kids need each other more…If I see her again – and recognize her, please – I will be quicker.

I will have neither dignity nor restraint when it comes to this mission. Nor will team members be limited to incoming 7th graders! Even online and long-distance friendships can be part of this new, classy, influential team, TEAM FRIENDLY FACE.

So, hey! Lady! And anybody else who might participate! If you are reading this, email me, okay? At the very least, take a moment to consider joining this team – or forming your own -- in whatever way feels right for you and yours. Let’s get our kids (or ourselves, or whatever!) together and build TEAM FRIENDLY FACE!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

P.S. A TEAM-worthy post, courtesy of an honorary TEAM member: http://seriouslynotboring.com/2014/04/10/a-smile-instead-of-judgement/

* I wrote to the middle school special education people at the meeting:

Dear all,

I hope this finds you well. Thank you for last Tuesday's meeting.

I was wondering if there is any way to reach out to other parents, families and kids in this group. I think it could be enormously helpful to some of these kids to have as many friendly faces as possible in the halls and classrooms as they transition to middle school. I would be more than happy to be in charge of trying to make something happen, and to pay for materials (mailings?), host any event, etc. But I know because of privacy laws you cannot divulge any information to me. Perhaps I could write an email that you could then send to the other parents? I know that would be an effort for someone to input the email addresses but I think it would mean a lot to some of the families, especially the kids...Thoughts?
Thanks so much,

[Full Spectrum Mama]

“Do you attend this scholarly institution?” or, “Do I know you?” or, Shifting Gears IV*

One minute I’m making good-natured fun of my son; the next I am realizing we share a ridiculous amount of stuff I didn’t even know about prior to becoming his mother. Obviously, learning about ourselves is NOT the main point of parenting (!), but it sure is a side effect!

Take face blindness (prosopagnosia). I always thought I was “bad with names” or “not really great at recognizing people I don’t know well.” I assumed that everybody was pretty much the same in this regard, that it would take anyone months or, more likely, years to even begin to distinguish, for example, between the fifteen or so medium-sized, slightly sporty/preppy mothers at school with shoulder-length dirty blonde hair. Hey, if not for my flashy/freaky clothing I could be one of them and I still can’t tell them apart.

But I guess everyone else...can?

Face blindness is common in people on the autism spectrum and presents in a range of degrees, in this as well as in the general population. G’s is somewhat more severe than mine, but I know he will develop coping mechanisms. In any case, if G sees someone dressed like me with hair like mine and pinky-beige skin, he will think it is me. His mother. He might figure out pretty quickly, from other cues like voice or not being recognized, if he’s got the wrong Mom, but there are moments like that, and many similar…

Age is a tough one for him, especially because he doesn’t really care about it; Gender he usually gets (though that can be fluid, which he is totally comfortable with…). But once gender is clear, other aspects are fuzzy. The boys in his old fifth grade class, all of Caucasian descent, to me were basically either stringy or pudgy at this age, and I could not tell them apart aside from that. With a few exceptions, G seemed to feel the same.

Both G and I saw the diversity at his new school as potentially a big boost in this area, especially as compared to his profoundly homogenous prior school.

Or take another commonality: vocabulary and formality of speech. Watching G interact with his peers has taught me that most people of all ages speak much more casually than we do. By the time I realized how this might impact G, we were already far too deep into a lifetime of reading old-fashioned books to backtrack.

Here’s a little vignette that illustrates both qualities, face blindness and unintentionally hifalutin speech:

We went to check out the kids’ new school a few days ago. There were two upper elementary school age looking boys riding bikes around the playground in the company of a young man in his upper teens or early twenties.

G approached the man. “Do you attend this school?” he asked.

“No, but my friends here do,” the man replied.

G got right up in one of their faces (which one? Not sure. They looked the same to me!) and asked, “What can you tell me about this school of yours?”

“I dunno, regular stuff,” the kid said, in regular kid fashion. “We eat pizza, play on the playground…have lunch…”

“Thank you very much,” said my son. “I appreciate your input.”

The next day, Noodle and I were talking about a college friend of hers who “got religion.’

“Did you anticipate this propensity throughout prior interactions?” I queried.

Now, Noodle being Noodle, she didn’t blink an eye. But I burst out laughing. I mean, who am I to worry about my son making friends on the playground?

Soanyway, amidst this huge shifting of gears -- today being the first day of school -- I am happy to report that the very first two kids G met in his new class BOTH had “differences” from the white, able-bodied, neurotypical norm in which we were previously immersed. This will make them easier for G to recognize and, perhaps more importantly, will also render G himself less “different” in the scheme of things.

Double yay!

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

 * Shifting Gears I (http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2013/06/shifting-gears-part-i.html) was the most polarizing post I ever wrote. In Shifting Gears II (unpublished), I couldn’t help but perpetuate that polarization. Then, in Shifting Gears III (unpublished), I began to try to break it down and make it a spectrum rather than a bifurcation. But I had to…ahem…shift gears for the new school year!!!