LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.

LJ Herman is a former editor at Love What Matters and lives in Colorado. LJ is a concert, ticket and technology enthusiast. He has seen the Dave Mathews Band over one hundred times and counting.
“If it is causing stress, takes too long, or interferes with other activities the family has, it should be skipped. There’s no dread, no afternoons or evenings filled with anxiety, tears, or frustration.”
“I remember thinking, ‘This guy better stop,’ but telling Grace in a quick tone, ‘Come on. We need to hurry.’ From the sidewalk, I reached out both of my hands and yelled ‘Stop!’ I watched my own self and 3-year-old daughter get struck by a moving vehicle.”
“‘Go Big or Go Home!’ his dad told him. Honey, this is supposed to be a fun thing,’ I told him as I brushed back his golden hair. ‘But Mommy, what if I lose?’ he cried. When we arrive at the top of the mountain, he panics. ‘I don’t want to do it, Mommy. I am scared.’ I hear the cries of the crowd, the unmistakable climax of shock, and then silence.”
“Right now, my daughter is friends with no one. She keeps to herself and sees little interest in gossip or small talk. And that has to do with a little part of her called autism. Include the child who keeps to themselves. The one that’s weird. The one that’s ‘rude.’ Extend an invite to those who are like you, but also those who differ.”
“After delivering my first child at 15, I was left with a body I didn’t recognize – heavier, softer, and covered in stretch marks. I wallowed here. I was molested here. I hid underneath men’s clothes, 2 sizes too big. Anything to deflect sexual attention. I am more than my body, but this vessel is not less important because its existence has been perverted and misused since the beginning of time.”
“I was still a single mom of a boy with autism living in a 2-bedroom apartment. My son was all grown. In comes this short, little peanut with those blue wrap-around glasses, all wide-eyed and ready to go. ‘I want to take him home.’ I couldn’t even get the words out before I started bawling!”
“The constant thought of, ‘I should just crash my car into a tree,’ kept playing in my mind. I was thinking of every way possible to leave Molly and go back to the way my life once was. I was scared to be left alone with Molly. I didn’t trust myself, and I was scared to admit it to anyone. Scared people would always think of me as ‘the crazy chick that wanted to hurt her baby.'”
“She was 7. As you can imagine, when I came home pregnant at 14, I was terrified. It was my choice to either silence her or lean in. I leaned.”
“I will never forget that first day having to leave him. I came home and cried because I was afraid he wouldn’t be understood. But he came out full of smiles and handed me a picture. One I knew he couldn’t have done by himself. He’d done it with his special needs assistant. I will always remember she said to me, ‘Mom, we did it together. And he chose red. I think it may be his color.’ And she was right. It still is.”
“She would break out the large stitching needles and sit on my tiny form, peeling my fingernails away from my flesh. It didn’t matter what it was, she insulted it. ‘You will die alone,’ she said when I mentioned being in love with a girl. ‘I should have aborted you,’ when I talked back. Once puberty hit, it was game over for me. I couldn’t win no matter how hard I tried.”