While considering rural life, one might imagine slowing down and dumbing down. But that couldn’t be more wrong. Life on the farm can be simpler, but it’s far from slow and dumb. A very special gifted child taught me that life on a farm is just what the doctor ordered.

Our youngest child has been an anomaly. He never slept through the night, was clingy and cried often as a baby, and was constantly sensory seeking and difficult to manage. At ten months old, we gave him small pieces of pizza to try. He quickly spat them out and has never, in the eleven years since, eaten pizza again.

At five, he was diagnosed with Celiac disease after being too difficult to potty train. Public schooling was failing. He was consistently having accidents at school. By the time he was six years old, he was running, hiding, and crying while in fetal position, begging not to go to school. Combined with lack of support and understanding from the school, we made the decision to pull him. Sensory issues abounded and, without the tools or knowledge to help, we just thought we had a difficult child—our “squeaky wheel.” Once we decided to bring him home, our lives changed. Bringing his older brother home soon after became a blessing we didn’t know we needed. We’re continually thankful for our “squeaky wheel” making it happen.

At six, he was still unable to dress himself without me laying out clothes on the floor in the right direction and shape. He still was unable to write his name or read a word, and he still lived in an imaginary land far away from reality... I dug my heels in and did some major research on what could be the cause that my seriously smart boy couldn’t do basic things. After months of searching, I found what could be our answer: dyspraxia.

Dyspraxia is a neurological disorder, appearing more frequently in boys than girls, affecting fine and gross motor skills, motor planning, and coordination. Although not related to intelligence, dyspraxia sometimes affects cognitive skills. Symptoms can vary from fatigue and lack of motor planning to fine motor skill issues, reading issues, speech issues like apraxia of speech, sensory issues, lack of spatial awareness, clumsiness, and more. The more I read about dyspraxia, the more I realized it fit my son: a highly intelligent, curious, inquisitive, passionate, loving kid that couldn’t sleep through the night, dress himself, or tie his shoes.

An occupational therapist evaluation found my son to have fine motor skills in the fifth percentile. That explained why he struggled with writing and holding small items. Gross motor skills have also been an issue—having lived on this earth for twelve years now, he is unable to ride a bike, or scooter, or anything that requires balance. My son attended weekly (sometimes twice a week) occupational therapy sessions and one visual therapy testing session where they identified tracking issues and provided exercises for the OT to support what we could do at home. He did two years of behavioral therapy where the therapist struggled to identify whether or not he was an empath or a “severe perfectionist.” An educational therapist tried to test him only to discover his sequential learning was far surpassed by his visual-spatial abilities (fifth vs ninety-fifth percentiles, respectively).

After all of the therapies, we realized that not only was suburban life not for us but that occupational therapy was basically farm chores. The OT had him haul mulch, push wheelbarrows, walk in a crab walk, and swing on a swing to pick up items off the floor to encourage coordination, so why were we paying thousands of dollars annually in insurance premiums, insurance deductibles, and more, for farm chores?

Additionally, we wanted a simpler existence. We didn’t fit in with suburban life or the Keeping Up with the Joneses mentality. Country life allows time for coordination, learning at our pace (regardless of how fast or slow that might be), and living life our way. The community I need not impress now sees my heart, not my pocketbook. My chickens don’t care what car I drive or mind the spider web on the front porch. The friends who come visit us at the farm enjoy leaving spiders there and examining the web design. A hummingbird caught in a spider web fluttering and struggling to free itself exhilarates us, as we can appreciate its life for what it is and the purpose it serves. Living in the country is worthwhile for the nature that surrounds us and for the greater appreciation of our place in the world. We have twenty acres of nature now, which is something I will never want to be without.

To the GHF community: don’t let rural living scare you. Life experience taught me that we can stretch our twice-exceptional and asynchronous wings to become the beautiful butterflies we were meant to be. We’re given room to do it, and that’s easier for me in a rural setting than in an urban or suburban one.