Dr. Rhonda Richmond
As I indicated in “You Have to Start Somewhere,” I spent many years practicing my written communication skills in an effort to comprehend. I tried multiple solutions and stuck with less supportive tools because I didn’t know how to evaluate why that tool was ineffective. I found a few strategies that worked in the short term: targeted vocabulary, practicing definitions, video support, and conversing with others. The issue was that these tools took a great deal of time to implement, and still, many of them were short-lived – especially when I used them independently of one another.
For those new to my story, here is a bit of history. When I returned to college, I also worked with my children at home. Three of our five children are neurodiverse. I developed a plan for my children at home, and we were successful with them. They were taking advanced classes, reading every piece of literature they could get their hands on, and advancing their vocabularies far beyond my own.
However, I was using similar tools and still did not have the success my children were having. Yes, I had obtained a BA in Communication and a master’s in Literary Studies, but language was still a struggle for me. I had a better understanding of my gaps, and that was helpful. However, I missed details when writing. I read over mistakes that were blatant to others. Social communication remained exhausting. I was taking in information and losing it shortly after.
I still struggled to find employment, and while looking for work, one day, my daughter told me that I should be a teacher. She explained that other kids deserved the support she and her brothers had received.
Her advice made sense to me. I had a useful skill. So, I enrolled in a doctoral program, hoping to finally have the credentials to get my foot in the door and have a career in education. Not long into the program, I realized I was writing lots of information; the next day, it was GONE. That usually happened a week later. I struggled (without having notes right in front of me) to remember the names of researchers and theorists, and my anxiety was raising the roof – for lack of a better analogy.
With the financial burden of going to school looming over my head, I went looking for relief. I walked into an art store and decided to try painting. My first real attempt ended in failure on the canvas, but it opened a channel to information I had studied that lived in my head. I was able to access it like never before.
Temple Grandin wrote a book titled “Thinking in Pictures,” in which she discusses how she sees information. She describes thinking in pictures as a form of visual thinking characteristic of many individuals with autism. She explains that instead of processing information in abstract terms or through verbal language, she and others like her experience the world in vivid, detailed images. This form of thinking allows her to create mental pictures that help her understand concepts and solve problems.
For me, there is something about the brush’s stroke, my body’s movement, and the colors on the canvas that weave my thoughts together. Before painting, I often feel stuck and I have more communication issues. The world feels cloudy and difficult to take in. The painting process is chaotic (sorry to my amazing husband) as I fight through the information in my head. My entire body calms down when I step back from a completed canvas. The beauty of it is that, in doing this, I can take just about any information I am processing at that time, visualize it, and explain it to others.
I express this emotion in this painting titled: “The Dance”
