The Newtown Tragedy and Asperger's Syndrome

The tragic shooting that occurred at Sandy Hook Elementary School last Friday is just unfathomable.  I get a lump in my throat and my eyes burn with tears just thinking about it.  How are those folks in Newtown, Connecticut even breathing today?

The Newtown Fire Dept flag at half mast, courtesy of BusinessInsider.com

How will I breathe when I go back to work?  This week, when I walk into the elementary school at which I work, will it look different to me?  Will I be able to look at the faces of the children I see and greet and hug every day, and be able to hold myself together?  Will I be able to reassure these children that they are safe-- and really mean it?  Will I break down when I'm unable to stop the thoughts that this shooting could have happened at my school?  To my kids?

I'm sure I'll do whatever needs to be done, just as my co-workers will.  But no matter what happens, being at work won't feel safe again for a long, long time.

So many things about this tragedy are beyond comprehension.  No one, except for the shooter, can ever really know what would lead a person down a path that would end in massacring children.  Doctors, neighbors, teachers, school counselors, and news anchors can spend countless hours speculating about the mental state of Adam Lanza, but only Adam could have told you why he did what he did.  I have listened to many of the details given about this young man whom, by all accounts, no one really knew, yet about whom everyone seems to have plenty to say.  Adam Lanza was obviously troubled-- any stranger could discern that from the events on Friday, December 14th-- but that is really all we will ever know for sure.

What troubles me about all the press this young man is receiving, however, is that many in the media are trying to link Adam's murderous rampage to his Asperger's syndrome diagnosis.  Please, please, PLEASE-- could the media just once do their research before treading into waters they don't understand...  While I, and parents like me, are out trying to spread autism awareness, the media continues to muddy the waters of understanding with ill-guided comments and suggestions about the relationship between autism and violence.

Thankfulness Is A Matter of Perspective

*borrowed imaged*

I am not going to bore you to death with a long, drawn out post about how I'm thankful for family and friends, not being cold or hungry, and not being broke.  If you have been anywhere near a blog or Facebook in the last month, you have seen these trite sentiments more times than you can count.  It's not that I'm knocking trite sentiments (much), but you, my friends, know that I am thankful for these things!  Anyone worth their salt would be!

What I am going to share with you are the things that I am surprised I am thankful for.  There are a few things that I would never ever have suspected in a million years that I could be grateful for, but upon reflection I have realized these things have made my life better in some meaningful or impactful way.  You probably have a few of these surprising sources of gratitude in your life, too-- you just need to turn things on their ear for a moment and look at them from a different angle.

Understood Rules

Yesterday was a horribly disagreeable day here on the Crazy Train.  The day started off rocky, and continued at a consistently bumpy cadence the rest of the day.  For whatever reason-- the alignment of the stars, the toss of the dice, the smell of the laundry hamper (your guess is as good as mine!)-- peace was not to be had between Princess and Birdie.

The civil unrest began shortly after breakfast, when I went out to get my morning exercise.  (We have a sidewalk loop right in front of our townhouse where I try walk a mile or two each morning.)  The girls declined my invitation to come out an play while I walked, stating that they were "in the middle of THE most awesome story show ever and didn't have time."  Whatever.  They were getting along nicely, so I let it go.

Twenty minutes into my walk, just as I was getting to the good part of the Harry Potter book I'm reading, Birdie came charging out the front door.  She let the whole neighborhood know that "Sissy tried to strangle me with her bare hands!  TWICE!"

Vicious, aren't they?  (borrowed image)

Great.  "So what did you do to cause that reaction, Birdie?"  Guess I'll finish my walk later.

"Uhhhhhh, nothing?!"  She said this like it was a question.  Which meant the answer was decidedly not "nothing".

A Teachable Moment at the Redbox

Not my photo, not an advertisement

As I rolled out of the school parking lot this afternoon to head for home, I began looking forward to a quiet evening alone (after the girls were in bed, of course).  Just me and my goofy mutt, curled up on the couch watching tv sounded like a good plan-- until I realized I had very little on the DVR to keep me entertained.  Easy enough to fix, I thought.  I turned left instead of right at the light and headed into the Giant shopping center.  The grocery has two Redbox machines inside-- surely I could find something there to keep me mentally disengaged for the evening.

I'm wondering now why I couldn't have just been happy with Netflix for a change?