Hands in the dirt

There never seems to be a loss for opinions  when it comes to Autism.  How did he get it? How do we fix him?  How do we prevent it from happening to others?  All I know is, right now I’m living it.  And not as a part-time job or as a clinical study.  Survival is a daily thing.  Communication is hard work, on everyone’s part.  And it wreaks havoc across all settings.  But give me a shovel, a piece of land and something, anything, to plant or mow or water- and I’m good. At least for the short run.  Don’t let me fool you, I have my support groups, my pretty meds, but getting my hands dirty is more cathartic than anything I know.  It gives me the energy to deal with what ever life throws at me.  And it gives me the inner strength to raise and love unconditionally, a 10-year-old boy  named Mattie.

3 Replies to “Hands in the dirt”

  1. I came across your blog through Farm Town, also my current addiction, and I just wanted to say I love your blog. My friends and I call gardening “Dirt Therapy”. It’s amazing how digging in the dirt can clean your head out. Bravo to you!

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