I'm Autistic and one of the most frustrating things that can happen for me is when someone decides they know better for me, than I do. When someone speaks over me. When someone ignores my opinion...

The same rule applies to Neurodiversity. If you need an opinion on Neurodiversity, why not ask the Neurodiverse person?

(Neurodiversity (ND) simply means: A fundamentally different way of thinking caused by neurology.)

"I need to leave because it's too loud for me here."

"But it's not that loud!"

Many autistic people have had a conversation like this. We often perceive things like sound or texture differently than others. That's because most autistic people have issues with sensory processing.

The “Terrible-Twos”. Separation anxiety. Night terrors. These conditions are closely associated with childhood. They can cause misery to child, caregiver and family alike. They bring distress, angst, loss of sleep, and unfortunately, sometimes the need for professional intervention. What these childhood conditions generally share as a group is the tendency for people to “outgrow” them as they age. In general, we view “childhood conditions” as just that – issues we need only worry about with children.

Let's talk about something that nearly every single person with sensory issues has to deal with: ANXIETY. Gosh! Even the word itself sets me on edge.

For people with Sensory Processing Disorder (SPD), anxiety comes as part of the package. It's the bonus prize that nobody wants.

I am bleary-eyed and under-slept and the shoulder of my shirt is gently stained by the drool of my sweet piranha of an eight-month-old whose teeth, it seems, will never, ever appear. From the outside, I look like a new mom, especially if you pay close attention to the generous darkness below my lashes. In the midst of morning and evening diaper-changes and peek-a-boos and spoonfuls of mashed fruit and heart-pounding giggles, I am fervently copywriting and in conference calls, an enthusiastic and ever passionate employee.

At recess, Emma, 9, refuses to participate in jump-rope or four-square games. Emma is over-responsive to movement sensations, which terrify her. She tells her friends, “I’m no good at that.”

At the front door, Aiden, 10, waits for his mother to tie his shoelaces. He has dyspraxia, and sequencing the actions to dress himself is still hard. “Today, Aiden, honey,” she pleads, “how about if you try tying your laces yourself?” Aides scowls and growls, “No, not today.”