Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Sensory Like You Has Been Published!

Great news, Sensory Friends!

My second book, Sensory Like You: A Book For Kids With SPD By Adults With SPD has been officially released. Published by Sensory World, this book was a labor of love by illustrator Kelly Dillion of Eating Off Plastic and yours truly, with the goal of reaching children with Sensory Processing Disorder. There are so many books out there about SPD for kids, but this book is the first of it's kind, as it's the only book created entirely by SPD adults for SPD kids. Based on How One Adult With SPD Wants to Explain This Condition to Your Sensory Child, which was published by The Body is Not An Apology , it's like a mini guide to SPD and self-acceptance for the under 10 set.

You can order your copy on Amazon or Barnes & Noble today - or if you're in Portland, OR (one of my favorite cities!) you can visit Powell's City of Books for your copy.

Friday, October 21, 2016

Since I've Been Gone: An Update in Four Parts

Hi CTMS Readers,

Yes, I'm still very much alive and nope, I haven't abandoned you! It's just been a whirlwind of transitions and excitement since the spring and the summer, and I've been chasing after these life events trying to keep up with them and you.

Because there are four big things going on right now, I've called this post an Update in Four Parts. Most of you know these pieces from following me on social media, but I'm going to sum them up here.


Yes, if you haven't heard the good news, it's very much official - my Handler and I are expecting our first child, a little girl, on Valentine's Day 2017. We found out in June, kept it a secret until August, and have been shouting it from the rooftops ever since!

In terms of pregnancy and my SPD, I'm finding that being pregnant has actually quieted down some of my more severe sensory sensitivities. I know that hormones ultimately have an impact on sensory symptoms (something that SPD researchers haven't fully understood just yet), but I've never been less anxious and more grounded than the past few months. I suspect some of it might have to do with proprioception - I suddenly weigh more and perhaps I'm feeling more connected to the physical world around me. Regardless, I'm excited about this next phase of our family and our lives.


Much like the last post discussed, we moved to that exact neighborhood in September - and let me tell you, for all of the packing stress, moving stress, and being-in-a-new-location sensory stress, I absolutely love it here. The neighborhood is quieter and more family-oriented than our last, there's lots of greenery (we're on the cusp of what feels like city and suburbs), and I'm steps away from some local restaurants. It's also the neighborhood my dad grew up in and my grandparents lived in for over 40 years, and I spent many happy weekends here, so it's nice to be back. Again, with #MySensoryPregnancy underway and the crisp cool fall weather, I felt comfortable walking around here almost immediately.


A joint effort between me and my favorite "lil sensory sister," Kelly Dillon of Eating Off Plastic, Sensory Like You is the first book for SPD kids written and illustrated by SPD adults. It's being published by Sensory World and should be out sometime in November. We're so excited to have the chance to engage kids directly to teach them a bit about SPD and remind them that having a neurological condition doesn't make them lesser-than - it makes them wonderful and special. 


I've posted a bit about this one on social media, but I'm honored to have been asked by the STAR Institute for SPD (formerly the SPD Foundation) to speak at their international symposium in Seattle, WA on November 4. My presentation will be all about my life with SPD, along with the lessons I've learned along the way and tidbits for parents to better understand and support their SPD child or teen. Nerve-wracking as always to be on stage under bright lights speaking into a microphone in front of strangers for an hour, but I'm especially looking forward to this particular presentation. 

That's my wrap-up, so hopefully we can call it even and just move forward from here. I love this blog, I love that I have the opportunity to reach out to all of you and help you connect with your own sensory lives, and I hope that once things settle down a bit post-Seattle, I'll have the chance to update my blog even more. If you miss me in between, be sure to come find me online - especially on Facebook where I make it my mission to post and connect as often as possible.



Friday, July 22, 2016

The Sensory Challenges of Moving


For a totally innocuous word made up of harmless letters, this one makes my skin crawl.

Cue the screams

I'm sure someone out there loves the premise of packing up their lives and setting out on a new residential adventure, whether local or abroad, but that someone is surely not me. As a person with SPD, I'm the Queen of Routine, the Siren of Sameness, the Darling of Doing Things on Repeat. The more things are familiar and well-established in the basic and required areas of my life, the happier I am; the better I'm then able to cope with the rest of the universe's surprises. The most important piece of this, outside of my amazing Handler, is our home. And although we're not moving just yet, we're in the process of looking.

Nom Nom Nom

SIDE NOTE: If you're curious, I use the term "home" loosely. Born and raised in the middle of Manhattan (and still a city dweller to this day), for me, "house" actually means "apartment." I don't personally get the appeal of a free-standing, ground-level dwelling a mere door away from ants and raccoons and the local band of roving townies (to each their own), but I understand the concept of a series of boxes stretching into the sky. I like to see for miles and pretend I live in the clouds.

Regardless, especially since I work and live in the same space, it's crucial for me to feel 100% comfortable in said space. And this is why the idea of moving freaks me out to the very depths of my inner being. Besides the impromptu touring of unfamiliar locations and new neighborhoods at inconvenient times, the picking the best streets closest to the best shops and transportation and schools, for a person with SPD, the entire apartment-hunt-moving process involves a secondary level of complication and questions:

"Can I handle living here?" 
"Will this be a positive sensory space for me?"

The most fun part of these questions is there's no clear or immediate answer. You can't, say, camp out on the floor of an empty apartment and wander the streets for a month to see if in fact you can tolerate the new location. You can't knock on the doors of your closest maybe-neighbors and ask them to have their dog bark as loudly as possible to gauge the sound levels or draw the curtains tightly to estimate the degree of darkness that will saturate your bedroom each night.

Mostly, for me, I can't properly read how my body will feel in the (albeit temporarily) foreign residence. Proprioception, and my brain's refusal to identify where my fingertips end and the world begins, means that I can consider a new space with a full heart, but I can't entirely be sure how I'll ultimately adjust to it or how quickly my differently wired body will feel at home and finally be able to rest.

Skeptical Roof is Skeptical

Once again, what is a neurodiverse life without the perpetual need to leap somewhat blindly into the great unknown? (I'm sure that's life in general, so imagine doing it with a different set of processing abilities!) While we're not boxing up our lives quite yet to take this particular leap, I see the general icky haze of moving looming somewhere in my future. It'll be for a good reason, a good cause: a space that fits our phase of life and current needs. We'll hopefully love it there. We'll make new memories. In time, my senses will adjust to the new set of circumstances. Mind-blowingly, the newness will become part of the routine, the sameness. Until then, though, I'll cling to other stable and familiar things. The click of this keyboard, say, and the words I'm writing to you.

Shameless Self Promotion: Want to learn about SPD from a delayed-diagnosis sensory adult's perspective and hear more from yours truly? Order Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues today!

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

My Interview with Mosaic Science - "Why are so many of us over-sensitive?"

Exciting news, reader-friends! Back in April, I was contacted by a journalist in the UK at Mosaic science who was in the process of writing an article about Sensory Processing Disorder and related sensitivities. She traveled to Chicago to see me speak at the city's first Sensory-Friendly Cultural Programming Summit, as well as to interview me about my life with SPD.

The final article, Why are so many of us over-sensitive? was published today, and I'm so thrilled with the result, as well as proud to be affiliated with some truly amazing people in the field of SPD.

Take a peek at the piece here:

Thursday, May 19, 2016

The Odd Couple: SPD Mind vs. SPD Body

It occurred to me this week, as I sprawled out on the floor deep in the throes of a new relaxation and visualization program, that I've been living under the same roof as the most unhappy couple I've ever met. Although these two occupy the same general space, they warm disparate corners. They make no effort to connect, aside from speaking ill of one another in off-handed, awkward comments to well-meaning, mutual friends. For the most part, their feud is silent - a behind-closed-doors iciness that escapes anyone who'd see them together pantomiming the actions of being fine. The truth is, it takes work for them to play pretend. They only stay together because they have no other option.

And no, I'm not talking about actual flesh-and-bones people whose relationship has been pushed past some emotional expiration date. It's something else entirely:

My brain and my body have become as foreign to one another as a couple on the brink of a divorce.

I know it's a strange concept; crunchy and froo-froo and oozing with images of healing crystals and long-haired hippies chanting Kumbaya. It was as uncomfortable for me to realize this as it may be for you to try to make sense of it. After all, aren't our minds and bodies part of the same entity, Team You? And don't they just automatically work together?

Clearly, they don't always.

Here's how it happened. The woman leading the guided visualization said, "now picture something in the natural world, like a mountain range, and see how it connects your brain and your body together. Allow them to have a dialogue." For a moment, I felt startled and forced my eyes open. "What do you mean, connect my brain and my body?!" I thought frenetically, on the verge of tears, "I can't connect my brain and my body!" And then it hit me hard as heavy, heaving cries began to erupt from somewhere deep in my stomach. My brain and my body hate each other. 

Let me explain. In living my life with SPD, I've come to accept a few unusual and necessary rules. I won't have a typical reaction to many typical scenarios, especially if sensation is required. I will lose my already tenuous connection to the sensory world if pushed too far. I will fight some primal urge to bite and cry and fling my body against hard surfaces when in public. I will hug every single person I meet without exception. These tenets, and actually my entire neurodiverse life, gravitate around one general concept: my brain processes differently, and so my body behaves differently. Because my brain is wired this way, I smash into most objects in my path. I can't always tell where my fingertips end and the outside world begins, so I lose my physical being in space. Sights become sharp and piece-y when I've reached some processing threshold and sounds feel as if they're trapped somewhere deep in my skull.

What's at the root of all of this? My brain. What suffers the consequences? My body. It's no surprise that the two refuse to get along.

I like to think that in between my brain and my body is my "mind" (or maybe even my "soul") - the piece of me that make me quintessentially "Rachel." This is the thoughtful, loving, empathetic bit of myself. When I share the message of acceptance and champion embracing differences, it comes from this area, and although I work with myself daily to nurture and accept my differently wired brain and celebrate and love my differently impacted body, I've never stopped to referee between the two of them before. I've never forced them to sit together in the same room and make peace.

If you're wondering, my "mind" (my "soul," my innermost-me, whatever you want to call it) chose a bright blue, flowing river as the natural imagery connecting my brain and my body, like a spine. I imagined that it was a chilly autumn day and the maple trees were turning shades of orange, yellow, and red. I hinged my being forward over the rushing water, trailing my fingertips along the stream, letting the motion move each digit. Faintly through the din, I thought I heard whispering. Something like, "I'll try to learn to trust you," and maybe even, "I love you" and "I'm sorry."

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


My Friends!

It's been way, way too long since I've posted here, and I know I'm incredibly overdue for a proper blog post, but I wanted to share some exciting news. This Fall, Sensory World will be publishing my second book, a joint-venture between yours truly and the amazing Kelly Dillon of Eating Off Plastic (henceforth known as Our FIRST Jointly Created Book!). It's a children's book for kids with SPD about SPD and by adults with SPD - let's call it an insider's book about SPD for your sensory kiddos. It's based on this article I wrote for SPD kids last summer.

Kelly and I will release more info as we progress, so stay tuned here and on social media to learn more!

P.S. Where else have I been lately? In Chicago in early April, I spoke at the CCAC/SPD Parent Zone's first Sensory Friendly Summit  and in late April, I co-founded the grass-roots #SensoryIsReal movement with Kelly Jurecko of SPD Parent Zone, along with the support of sensory leaders across the community. Click the link above for our video and manifesto. I've also been profiled by two journalists for two major publications - one in the UK and one in the US - and these articles will be published sometime in late spring or summer. As soon as they've been made public, I'll share them (loudly and widely) with all of you.

 . . . and now this exciting new book, because truly, SPD advocacy never rests :)

Friday, March 11, 2016

The Girl with the Weighted Blanket

In November 2011, my handler and I arrived at a beautiful, historic resort nestled among the mountains of Vermont for our honeymoon. We stepped out of the car and helped the valet shift assorted suitcases and tote bags from our trunk, and for the most part, nothing was out of the ordinary. When we announced our newlywed status, staffers cheered and secretly made note to send bottles of wine and plates of chocolate-dipped fruit up to our room on the regular. For all that the hotel staff knew, we were just two typical people who happened to have gotten married a few days before.

As we finished checking in, the valet returned to carry our bags up to our massive suite (side-note: it was a glorious upgrade with panoramic views of the area). He looked down at one bag in particular - a rather large black fabric bag, with something big, pink, and fuzzy overflowing its edges.

"A blanket?" He asked.

"Yes . . ." I replied, but before I could explain further, he lunged to lift it. Shocked at the sheer weight of what he expected to be a feather-light bundle, he dropped the bag to the wooden floor with a thud.

Eyes wide-open with surprise, his other hand on his lower back, he looked back at me for an explanation. Instead, I quickly grabbed the bag, saying, "never mind, I'll take this one."

How do I even begin to explain why I have a 17 pound blanket, I thought to myself, as I passed the parcel to my new husband. He, just over two years into my sensory journey, already knew the drill. He was my weighted blanket sherpa.


Weighted blankets are the party tricks of the bedding world . . . or even the old-timey county fair Guess Your Weight booths of linens.

Disclaimer: Everyone Always Wins

They're deceptively heavy. I love dragging mine out for groups of unknowing spectators. Unless you've spent a solid eight under one (or spent the night next to someone under one), you might not immediately realize that what looks like a simple comforter is actually the same weight as a one-year-old. I'll tell them vaguely that it's a unique sensory tool, but it's not until they lift the bundle into their arms that they realize what's happening. What's clearly light and fluffy to the eyes is really a cuddly free-weight to the arms.

And then the questions start coming:

How do you sleep under seventeen pounds?!
Why do you sleep under seventeen pounds?!

I tell them this:

My weighted blanket is one of my most helpful and beloved sensory tools. With the subtype of SPD I have, Sensory Modulation Disorder, I avoid information from some senses because my brain tells me that the information is supremely overwhelming. I crave information from other senses because my brain tells me that the information is supremely underwhelming. I ignore information from yet other senses because my brain doesn't even recognize that there's information to process.

The sensory information that my system personally ignores: proprioception.

I think of proprioception as the sense of where my body ends and the world begins. It's a sense we typically don't think about until we're not processing it properly, and being so hyper-unaware of this sense can make it feel like I'm not connected to my physical body or the world around me. When we're connected to the earth and to ourselves, we feel calmer. When we're disconnected, we feel anxious, uncomfortable, distant, detached, separated - as if we're not real and our world isn't real. We trip over curbs and smash into walls. We float through space.

For me, the beauty of the weighted blanket is it connects me to myself and my universe. I don't register the weight in quite the same way, and so instead of feeling like my body's floating through space, I feel tethered to the bed and attached to my physical body. To make my blanket even more of a treat, mine's made of a soft, textured chenille, and ever the tactile seeker, I can run my hands along its length as I fall asleep.

Connected and calm, I'm able to fall asleep quicker and stay asleep longer. In fact, sleeping under a weighted blanket has impacted my sleeping habits in the most positive way. The better I sleep, the better I'm able to cope with tomorrow's sensory processing challenges.


In the depths of the hottest summer (and sometimes in the most unusually warm and humid late-winter nights), there are times where I'm forced to choose between feeling connected to my body (and sweating my guts out under my massive blanket) or stretching out in front of the air conditioner, completely floating through space, untethered. And so I bob and weave, a bedtime boxer vacillating between the two extremes in an effort to secure at least a few hours of restful slumber.

It's in moments like this that I think about the sleeping masses splayed out under thin cotton sheets, the crisp breeze from a nearby fan seeping through the fabric's loose, light weave; bodies entangled under a shared throw, and yes, every day filled with the ignorant bliss of proprioceptive connection.

I pop my face out from under my necessary strawberry-sherbet-colored muppety jail and glance over at my handler, sleeping so peacefully and typically under his own sheet that, for a second only, it breaks my heart, before I stick out a single toe, and then two, to catch the trace of a quick cool breeze before diving back under the soothing weight of seventeen pounds against my differently-wired system.

P.S. Looking for a weighted blanket of your own? Find one that's 10%  of your body weight + 1lb.

Shameless Self Promotion: Want to learn about SPD from a delayed-diagnosis sensory adult's perspective and hear more from yours truly? Order Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues today!

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Making Sense Book Signing

Hi CTMS Readers,

I know, long time no post!

Since Making Sense came out last month, things have been incredible. I can't disclose too much yet, but it looks like I'll be speaking about SPD multiple times across the U.S. between now and the fall . . . and there may be another book in the works (*wink*). More to follow as I know more and can share it with you all.

Until then, I thought some of you might get a kick out of seeing a few pictures from my first-ever book signing! It was such an exciting day, and I was truly touched by the outpouring of love and support.

As always, you are sensational . . .


P.S. I'd love to hear what you think of Making Sense! Please feel free to send me an email, post a reader review to Amazon and/or Barnes & Noble, and comment below.

Monday, February 22, 2016

Will My Sensory Child Be Okay?: A Letter from an SPD Adult to Parents Who Worry -- Guest Post on Lemon Lime Adventures

As part of my book launch last week, I had the amazing opportunity to guest-blog for my friend Dayna of Lemon Lime Adventures, a website dedicated to one family's homeschooling, SPD, and natural living adventures.

We decided to call the post "'Will My Sensory Child Be Okay?' . . . A Letter from an SPD Adult to Parents Who Worry." 
Yours Truly, Clearly Jonesing to Write a Blog . . .
In it, I talk about my undiagnosed sensory life - and how, in spite of my decades-long-untreated SPD and ongoing challenges, my life turned out more than "okay" (and how, with treatment and understanding across all fronts, parents can certainly trust in the fact that their children will turn out more than "okay" too). 

Hope you love it as much as Dayna and I did!

Monday, February 15, 2016

Making Sense - Released TODAY!

My first book, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues was officially released today!

I had the surreal experience of holding my first printed copy on Friday. I immediately flipped through the book, stunned with my mouth ajar, so excited to see the past year's worth of work in its final form . . . and then, of course I burst into tears. 

Once I recovered, I took this selfie:

Writing this book has been such an intensely personal experience for me. Like someone recently said, writing about SPD while having SPD is essentially writing about yourself. I know about SPD through my own experiences as well as hearing from so many others like me (and you!) across the globe, and so this book not only represents who I am and what I have, it ultimately also represents the community I love so deeply - and I hope it shows. 

One sensory friend told me that he loved the book so much, he read it in its entirety in a single day. He has the honor of being my first community reviewer, and here's what he had to say about Making Sense:

In honor of this momentous occasion, my very dear friend and book illustrator, Kelly Dillon of Eating Off Plastic, wrote the most amusing blog post about why everyone needs to buy Making Sense ASAP (accompanied by this little adorable drawing):

I'm honored to have had the opportunity to write this book, and I'm beyond thankful for the boundless support of family, friends, and the entire extended sensory community. I hope you read it and love it as much as I do . . . and if you do, I hope you tell me about it. Email me a selfie of you holding the book or take a picture of the book sitting next to your favorite sensory tools. Leave me some love on Amazon and Barnes & Noble. Share the book via social media and with your loved ones, friends, schools, and therapists. 

I'll continue featuring quotes and photos of the entire Making Sense release up here, so stay tuned for more updates!

Thursday, February 11, 2016

Coming to Your Bookshelves on FEBRUARY 15!

We are mere days away from the release of my sensory guidebook, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues! I'm beyond excited and can't wait to hear what you all think of the book.

Order your copy today at Amazon or Barnes & Noble!

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Updated Website -

Hi CTMS Readers!

In preparation for the release of my upcoming sensory guidebook, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues, as well as a few other big projects and speaking opportunities in 2016, I've updated my website,

Be sure to check out the site for:

What do you think of the new site? Is anything missing that would help you on your sensory journey? Leave me a note and let me know!

Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Jonas' Sensory Aftermath

Unless you're a bear deep in the throes of your wintry hibernation (in which case, how kind of you to wake up for this post . . . and how human of you to own a computer), you undoubtedly know that much of the East Coast of the U.S. was hit by a major blizzard named Jonas last week:
My Name is Jonas
(Having a Weezer moment)

See the hot pink around the bottom tip of New York State and the island protrusion just beyond? Somewhere between those two masses of land is where I live with my husband, smack-dab in the middle of 18-24" territory, and 24" is being stingy, IMHO. Somewhere I heard that we got upwards of 30". To say it's "snowy" here is like saying the Arctic is cold. It's not incorrect. The Arctic is cold, just as New York City is snowy, but it loses the intensity of meaning somewhere along the way.

This is snowy:
Aww, how adorable you are, you lil sprinkling, you

And this is what our street looked like only 24 hours after the storm started:

Yes, those undefinable lumps are cars
In the cartoony words of one of my favorite artists, Natalie Dee:

And well, normally I do. Like I've said here before, I feel my best in the cold. Between my proprioception and tactile needs, chilly weather helps my body feel connected to the ground. In the cold, I feel the full parameters of my skin, and so I know where I end and where the rest of the world begins. A rarity in my life with SPD.

Snow is a beautiful add-on to my particular set of sensory needs. Aside from the crisp air and sudden quiet, a heavy snowfall typically means a few comfy, warm, safe, tucked-away days with loved ones sipping cups of hot cocoa. It means snow angels and snowy eyelashes and super-soft fleece. But when the snow stops falling, the sky turns blue, and the city I live in resumes its normal buzz, I am left with the sensory aftermath of a snowstorm.

Sure, it's challenging enough for a neurotypical out there right now. The snow is everywhere. For a city that prides itself on walking, New York City, post Jonas, is pretty incredible. Through the feet of snow, brave explorers have begun to make their own snail's path down the frosted city streets. The rest of the pedestrians follow these paths to the footprint, melting the once tiny strides into walkways between snowy caverns. Mounds of snow stand between you and everywhere you need to be. Walking a block turns into a game of chicken - who gets to walk on the established paths and who needs to trek into otherwise untouched heaps of white.

Crossing the street becomes like scaling a frozen fortress . . . or even the Frozen fortress:
If only I could just let it go

Yes, let's talk about ice and slush. It's everywhere. New York City, post-Jonas, is essentially one large skating rink without skates; a solid pond of slippery. It's every 90s kid's wintry Slip-n-Slide dream.

And then there's me and my SPD.

Let me say this. Most days, it's challenging for me to engage with the outside world. It's loud, it's bright, it's in undulating motion. It's an unpredictable cacophony of sensory demands and unwelcome surprises. There are certain things I can rely on. I know that while I am over-responsive to sight and sound and completely under-responsive to proprioception, I can rely on touch and even balance to keep me going. (Fine, I'm no balance-beam-striding gymnast, but let's just say that I have bigger sensory fish to fry than fret over my less-pressing vestibular issues.) Add a pair of thick gloves and heavy boots to the mix and Disney on Ice to the sensory world outside, and I've become even more of an (albeit, temporary) sensory disaster. On this morning's walk alone, I almost fell a total of seven times. Each time I put my gloves on, the lack of cold air on my skin made my vision, hearing, and proprioception even more complex. I couldn't reasonably predict where I could stand, where I could walk, where I could fall, and where I could cross, and so, frustrated and ready to stand firmly on solid ground, I returned home, never happier to be back inside.

I know I've said nothing unusual in this post. Once upon a time, during a very strangely warm winter, there was a storm named Jonas, and many are working to cope with the aftermath of this blizzard. I'm a lucky one - we never lost power, we stayed safe. But I suppose the aftermath of this storm can serve as a reminder to all of us.

Someone in your midst, perhaps even you, lives a life with challenges, be they neurological, psychological, physical, or medical in some way. For this person, a blizzard is not just simply a blizzard. It's not just a beautiful, natural event followed by the inconvenience of dirty snow and overzealous sidewalk salting. It's a temporary shift in ability and a momentary lapse of stability.

It's a sensory aftermath that no doppler radar or even weatherperson can predict.

Shameless Self Promotion: Want to learn about SPD from a delayed-diagnosis sensory adult's perspective and hear more from yours truly? Pre-order Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues today!

Wednesday, January 20, 2016

Sensory Focus Magazine's Winter Edition - Featuring Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues

Imagine my surprise when I opened an email from my friends at Sensory World and found this amazing cover of the winter issue of Sensory Focus Magazine attached!

I'm so thrilled to share another excerpt from Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues with all of SF's readers, and I'm beyond excited to be featured so prominently on the cover. 

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

FREE Excerpt of Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues

So many of you have expressed interest in taking a peek at my upcoming sensory guidebook, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues (thanks for the love, by the way, I'm sending it back to you), and I've heard you loud and clear! To whet your sensory literary appetite, I've picked the first seven pages of Chapter 1: A Quick Confession from my book to share with you. 

Why Chapter 1? Good question. 

I actually hemmed and hawed for a while trying to pick the perfect seven-page segment, as prescribed by my publisher, to release out into the blogosphere. Let me tell you that writing a book is an exciting, scary, and complicated process, and nothing has ever made me feel as raw and exposed and invigorated as having 160-some-odd-pages of my knowledge published and pushed out into the world for consumption. And so, I thought about what I'd want to read if I were you and you were me. I am a big fan of starting at the beginning of something. Like former Poet Laureate Billy Collins says in his poem Aristotle, "This is the beginning. Almost anything can happen." You won't really understand why I've thirsted for the knowledge that I share throughout the rest of the guide before you understand where I've come from and what I've experienced, and although I share examples from my sensory life throughout the entire book, the first chapter is where I really get to tell my story. 

And so, let's start at the very beginning . . . I hear it's a very good place to start ;-)

Like what you've read? Let me know in the comments of this post, and then go order my book here

(And apologies for the words "Review Copy" through the text - it's how we have to do it until the book is published. It won't be in the final version, I swear.)

Monday, January 11, 2016

One Month Until the Release of My Book, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues!

As many of you may know, my sensory guidebook, Making Sense: A Guide to Sensory Issues, is due out the first week of February! This book, based on my popular article, The Neurotypicals' Guide to Adults with Sensory Processing Disorder, was truly a labor of love, and covers everything I know about sensory issues as a delayed-diagnosis SPD adult.

Illustrated by another amazing adult with an SPD-only diagnosis (my dear friend Kelly Dillon of Eating Off Plastic), with a foreword by the talented Dr. Sharon Heller of Too Loud, Too Bright, Too Fast, Too Tight and Uptight & Off Center fame, Making Sense is truly the first book of its kind.

Book Chapters Include:
  • Living in a Sensory World
  • The Senses, Demystified
  • The Neurological Traffic Jam
  • Sensory Issues across the Lifespan
  • Treatment, Tools, and Techniques
  • SPD and Psychopathology
  • Sensory Issues in SPD and ASD

After reviewing the book, Carol Stock Kranowitz, M.A., author of The Out-of-Sync Child Grows Up: Coping with Sensory Processing Disorder in the Adolescent and Young Adult Years and   the Out-of-Sync Child series, said:

Order your copy today!


Barnes & Noble

A eBook version will also be available for purchase in a few weeks, and a FREE excerpt from the book will also posted to my blog sometime this week, so stay tuned for updates!