some books that have changed my life

Happy Christmas Eve -- here is a list of books that I have loved and used to the point where I can honestly say they've changed my life. Of course, I have had a weird life, and I have some unusual interests, so you can take this for what it's worth. I hope you find something on this list to enjoy.

1. News From The Border, by Jane McDonnell.

Out of the gazillions of autism books I've read, this one is my heartfelt favorite. If not for the boy in this book (Paul McDonnell), I would think that my son was a completely one-of-a-kind, never-before-seen sort of autism spectrum kid; socially interested, bright, depressive, obsessive, and destined to live uncomfortably in both his own world and ours. I pick up this book at intervals of years, and always discover that Paul and Ben have more in common now than they did the last time I checked. Paul and Jane felt very alone when Paul was young -- but thanks to them, Ben and I don't have to feel quite as alone.

2. Thinking in Pictures, by Temple Grandin.

I enjoyed this book a lot, and have reread it a few times, but this book is on the list of books that have changed my life because of only one thing in it, on one page.

At the age of 7, Ben was taking Zoloft; he was and is an SSRI-responder, a variety of autism spectrum kid in whom SSRIs (the class of drug that includes Zoloft, Paxil, and Prozac) have the pretty-much-instant effect of dramatically reducing autism symptoms. But SSRI-responders like Ben often are hypersensitive to SSRIs and easily become manic on them, a fact that isn't widely known even among psychiatrists (especially among MY psychiatrists).

At that time I didn't know it either, and Ben was slowly becoming more and more manic. Our psychiatrist was responding by raising his dose; he was on the verge of going over the edge -- was even becoming a bit violent. In desperation, I tried a new psychiatrist who was even worse.

Then one night, I reread 'Believer in Biochemistry', the chapter in Temple's book in which she mentions, offhand, that Dr. John Ratey had mentioned to her that many autistic people do better on microdoses of SSRI because their neurology is exquisitely sensitive to it. Microdoses.

I started Ben on a microdose of Paxil the next day. It saved his life; it saved my life. I have a lot to thank Temple Grandin for.

Interestingly -- here's Kismet in action -- both Temple and John Ratey are co-authors of Catherine's.

3. Getting Things Done, by David Allen.

I have a lousy memory and a severe attention deficit (two not unrelated things); also a slightly obsessive nature. The former leaves me prone to disorganization, missing appointments, etc.; the latter ensures that I never stop feeling guilty about it. I've read many books and tried many systems (7 Habits of highly effective people, etc.) for getting organized; nothing ever actually worked. I'd lost hope; and then I read David Allen's book and gave his method the college try.

Now, I'm functionally organized. No kidding; everyone thinks I'm organized. I know when to pay bills, I know how to keep track of all the tiny things and large things I have to do, and I actually do get them done. It's amazing. I always thought I was congenitally incapable of being organized, but I just didn't know how to be. Turns out that most people don't.

David Allen's book is a bag of powerful tricks that all work together to close the seams in your life. It's a bottom-up rather than top-down system. Whereas Stephen Covey asks you to consider what the really important things in your life are, David Allen asks you to get a huge pile of folders and a Brother labeler (he actually recommends the brand to use -- this is the kind of firm direction I need) and maintain lists by context and update them once a week. It works; things stop falling through the cracks.

4. The Right To Write, by Julia Cameron.

Catherine and I have been talking about this book lately. She's never read it; she always thought it sounded kind of dumb. Julia Cameron is essentially a cheerleader for 'artists in recovery' -- that is, the majority of us who have always wanted to paint or write or dance or sing but can't bring ourselves to take a risk and do it for whatever reason, usually because someone at some point in our lives told us we stunk.

She has exercises that you work through to help your recovery along. One of them is to write a letter to that person in the distant past who told you you stunk, or to draw a picture of her depicting her as the monster she is.

Sounds silly -- until you consider that both Catherine and I intuitively avoided taking any classes in writing and singing -- her biggest gift and mine, respectively. We were protecting ourselves. One art teacher of mine took such a dislike to me that she tucked a little note in my guidance counseling file telling future teachers who might encounter me that I was the least creative child she had ever encountered (it's worth noting that this opinion was unsolicited -- it wasn't associated with a report card, and I wouldn't have seen it if I weren't inquisitive about my guidance file).

It sounds silly, until you consider that some adults do sometimes bully kids.

These have a huge impact on kids, more powerful than the gentler encouraging words of most adults, and the impact often lasts into adulthood. In my case, Julia Cameron's book got me writing and painting again after a hiatus of many years. Cheerleading it is; but I needed it. She has a whole bunch of books, with titles such as "The Artist's Way" and "The Vein Of Gold", but this is the shortest (and to my mind, the most intelligent).

OK, I have to quit now; it's Christmas Eve, and the boys are all here. Time to celebrate. More later.

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Comments

Well, I sure am glad I met Carolyn

We received a patented Irvington Middle School letter bomb in the mail today....canned computer comments telling us our child's EFFORT IS INCONSISTENT, he is UNPREPARED, he is CAPABLE OF BETTER WORK, etc.

Every one of Christopher's teachers, every last one (did I mention these people work as a 'team'?) has a computer-generated, canned complaint. We hope he doesn't know the Interim Reports came, because we can't show it to him. Every day he says to me, anxiously, 'My grades are going to be bad.' Every day.

Yup.

They are.

The canned comments are bad. Christopher has been pegged. He's a lazy, loser boy who doesn't work up to capacity.

The end.

I was beyond furious (I get way beyond furious where my kids are concerned).....and ready to tangle with Ed to boot, illustrating one of my Core Principles, which I came up with back when we had an autistic baby but didn't know it yet:

When the baby is crying, the parents are fighting.

Carolyn not only talked me down, she cheered me up.

Carolyn, thank you.

And Merry Christmas!

-- CatherineJohnson - 25 Dec 2005