A Gift, Not a Curse

“Mom, help me remember to schedule that appointment with the eye doctor,” Ellie said, as I drove her to community college.

“We have to remember to send in my transcript from this summer class to college!” she said, a week later.

“Mom, we REALLY have to pay my roommates for utilities tonight! Help me remember!” She yelled as I headed to the office.

One role I didn’t expect to play was my neurodiverse daughter’s reminder system. But as Ellie returned home from college for the summer, she has struggled to keep track of everyday tasks beyond her summer coursework. It’s gotten to the point where I insisted that we experiment with an app that offers a shared task list instead of me trying to function as Ellie’s second brain.

When Ellie struggles with executive functioning skills because of her attention-deficit disorder and autism, I sometimes feel frustrated by the challenges of neurodiversity. But an unexpected source - a new novel featuring a neurodiverse heroine - reminded me recently of neurodiversity’s accompanying gifts.

In her romance novel, Almost By Design, author Jenny Erlingsson beautifully captures those tensions in her neurodiverse heroine, Kenya. Kenya has untreated dyslexia, which is a learning disability that affects a person’s ability to read, write, and spell accurately. Autism, ADHD, and dyslexia are all classified under the umbrella term “neurodivergent” because they all refer to how the brain is wired differently than a “neurotypical” one.1

Like my daughter, Kenya struggles with executive functioning skills while trying to hide her neurodiversity. Almost By Design opens with Kenya’s world unraveling in real time. Because of her dyslexia, Kenya mixes up dates for two important events and ends up missing a key work meeting with high-profile clients (apparently she didn’t hire her mother to remind her, haha). In an impulsive reaction to her self-imposed mess, she enters the dance floor with too-high heels and ends up with a sprained ankle. With the added challenge of her injury, Kenya digs herself into an even deeper hole while encountering a potential love interest. So Kenya launches an intense drive for perfection to gain her desired promotion. If Kenya can just try hard enough to impress clients and convince her boss, she will be okay.

But as Kenya drives herself into action, she abandons her needs. Eventually, her best efforts to mask her neurodiversity fail, both in her dating life and in her career. I recognized those efforts as my daughter has worked diligently to hide how much her disability cripples her. When neurodiverse individuals overdo it with masking, they often crash with exhaustion.

As I read Kenya’s story, I knew Jenny Erlingsson understood neurodiversity herself. No one could recreate that specific shame and anxious turmoil just by research. In her author’s note, Jenny writes about her own daughter and husband’s struggles with dyslexia.

The novel became richer for me as I recognized myself in Justine, Kenya’s mom, who cannot hide her frustration and worry. Kenya describes her mother’s expression. “She’d seen this look plenty of times before. A mix of annoyance and worry, and then more annoyance because something her oldest daughter had done made her worry.”

That ‘look’ feels familiar; I’ve worn it myself more often than I’ve meant to. I have also felt frustrated, confused, and scared about my daughter’s differences, especially before we had diagnoses to explain them. Why couldn’t she just clean up after herself - was she lazy or inconsiderate? As she accidentally left medications, homework, and lunch at home, I worried about how she would manage as an adult. Why could she decorate our living room with such a gorgeous flair or make a gourmet meal, but she couldn’t remember to pay for utilities in her college apartment?

Jenny writes about when she received her daughter’s dyslexia results: “I cried because there were times I thought she was not listening well. I assumed she was being disobedient when she hadn’t done what I told her to do or when I had to repeat instructions multiple times. But the assessment made me realize that when my daughter is given a list of things to remember, her brain might drop the last few.”

When we don’t understand the nature of neurodiversity, it’s easy to focus solely on our kid’s challenges. We may hit a wall of despair, underlined by fear, as we watch them struggle. As they become young adults, the natural consequences for lost keys, missed deadlines, and impulsive decisions become even harder to bear.

Even though Jenny understands the challenges, she also names the gifts of neurodiversity. She says, “When you look at the origin stories of several well-known figures, you’ll see that they, too, struggled with dyslexia. For many of them, there is a correlation between those learning differences and their creativity and entrepreneurial risk-taking.”

Kenya’s creative genius shows up in her energetic event planning. She imagines and organizes joyful, effective, beautiful gatherings for her community. When her plans hit a snag, Kenya knows how to win over partners with humor and warmth.

At one point, a wise mentor tells Kenya that she herself has dyslexia and sees it as a gift. She knows dyslexic managers who have an uncanny ability to strategize in unique ways. This mentor tells Kenya to consider her dyslexia an intentional gift from God, who created her mind and her heart.

Similarly, my daughter’s artistic brilliance shows up in many ways, such as her ability to knit gorgeous clothing and produce bakery-worthy pastries. Like many autistic people, Ellie becomes fixated on a special interest and researches it endlessly, becoming an expert in it. Right now, her passions are chemistry and biology. While she watches her classmates moan about failing impossible tests, she sails through with all A’s. I imagine that someday, Ellie’s medical research will provide long-awaited answers to chronic health conditions.

Helping our kids process both the challenges and the gifts of neurodiversity feels important. When Justine and Kenya have an honest conversation about the emotions that have floated on the surface of their relationship for twenty years, they connect on a deeper level. Those are the honest conversations I want to have with my daughter, ones where we talk about our fears, our hurts. and our hopes. It’s not about wrapping it all up in a perfect bow, but rather coming closer together to navigate the hard and the beautiful.

The more I learn about neurodiversity, the more compassion I have. A neurodiverse brain processes information differently. Not worse or better, just differently. Rather than labeling it as defiance, carelessness, or apathy, we might become curious about their perspective.

For instance, when I asked Ellie why she relies on me rather than her own systems to keep track of her responsibilities, she explained how frustrated she is with the limitations of her brain. She’s tried many systems without success. She’s helped me understand how overwhelmed she often feels. Even if I don’t want to keep subscribing to the “mom reminder system,” those conversations help me step into Ellie’s shoes without judgment. Then I can come alongside her to find something that works for both of us.

Towards the end of the book, I silently cheered as Kenya gradually released the belief that her neurodiverse brain is “a curse, a constant obstacle I needed to overcome just to be normal.” Instead, she begins to see her dyslexia as a gift, as she embraces herself as God made her. She moves out of hiding her neurodiversity to self-acceptance. As she shares her diagnosis with others, including her boyfriend, she takes another step to release shame.

Almost By Design beautifully underlines that neurodiverse minds aren’t a design flaw. They’re part of how God intentionally made each of us in unique ways. I want Ellie to believe that in her bones, long before she has to learn it the hard way, like Kenya did. Even as we continue to work together to build executive functioning skills and systems, I want her to move through the world without shame. And like Justine, I hope I can keep supporting her, while admitting my mistakes along the way.

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