That Shouldn't Happen: The Just World Fallacy and Autism

Everyday, we hear about tragedies, some that hit too close to home for comfort, and our reactions...

Heaviness: Euthanasia For Expediency

It's all over the internet now, the story of the twin brothers in Belgium who were deaf and going...

What's the Harm: When Reality and Wishful Thinking Clash

I'm digging around for posts people have written on what to say/what not to say to autistic people...

Facilitated Communication: Same As It Ever Was (Same As It Ever Was)

In the past couple years, I’ve written over a dozen articles examining facilitated communication...

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Kim WomblesRSS Feed of this column.

Instructor of English and psychology and mother to three on the autism spectrum.

Writer of the site (where most of these articles will have first appeared) and co-administrator

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More than a year ago, after yet another horrifying story about a parent killing her autistic child, I wrote a post on how scientific research shows that filicide is almost always accompanied by mental illness. 

Huffington Post has a piece up on whether parents of obese children are in denial. Of course, the comments are typical for Huff; there are the usual close-minded asses who assume that all obesity is a result of fat parents "sharing the misery" (as one commentator wrote).

Like most things in life, childhood obesity exists for multiple reasons, and judging these parents to be unloving or abusive misses the complex factors that combine to create obesity in individuals.
It's a wonder I haven't had these sorts of dreams sooner, when one thinks about it. I started volunteering with hospice in July, and I've had three patients that I volunteered with die in that time. I also call about a dozen different grieving families every week to check on them. I've been to more visitations and funerals in the last six months than I have in the last decade. I will, as a volunteer for hospice, deal with death regularly. And yet I know that I will still be insulated; the full-time staff of nurses, aides, chaplains, and social workers deal with it constantly. It is their livelihood to help people have a dignified and comfortable last few months (or even days).
It's always a little surreal to see a new comment in the email on an old article. The older the article is, the stranger it is, especially when the comment itself is bizarre.
This week, we're running a breast cancer awareness week at my college--spearheaded by my students, friends, and me--to benefit the Hope Fund at Hendrick Hospital in Abilene, Texas, to provide free mammograms to women in need. Another professor and friend, Terra Bartee, with Jacky and Alicia Andreatta, is spearheading the main campus efforts, which benefit the American Cancer Society. Yesterday, we were both at the Abilene campus together with dozens of student volunteers, working hard to raise awareness.

We've got lots of fun planned. We have informational tables, fundraising tables, two speakers lined up for today and free pizza, and a Pink-it-Out contest Thursday, where students will have to work hard to out-pink me. After all, it is day 25 of wearing pink for me!
When Susan Senator asked her facebook friends if any would be interested in reading her new novel, I jumped at the chance. She had me with the title. I love gardening, and it has been my solace, my comfort, my breathing room over the last two decades of parents children with special needs.

It's Susan's first novel, and one she's worked on for several years. She gets it all right. The characters breathe, they are all likable, believable people struggling to do the best they can under enormous pressures.