This Is Your Farm, Too
November, 2022
“Wow - it’s like this place was made for our kid!” This is a refrain I often hear when a new visitor comes to the farm. My response, “It was.” That’s not an exaggeration. It was made for every person who processes the world differently and deserves to have a space to just BE. It was made for every parent who wants to have a family excursion, but gets overwhelmed thinking about the stress of the unknown. Parents, who have to work through various scenarios before leaving home - What if the destination is too loud, too bright, too crowded? What accommodations will be needed, what are the contingency plans for a meltdown… an outburst… a change of clothes? It becomes exhausting when you aren’t even sure of the payout. Who wants to rally a family and then have to leave 10 minutes after arrival, defeated and frustrated?
I remember when my daughter was very young and struggling with sensory integration so intensely that I had to go through a long routine every day in order to get her dressed. I started the routine by brushing her with a Wilbarger brush, then moved on to perform multiple joint compressions. Next, I’d have her walk in dry rice through one bin and in dry macaroni through another. Finally, I’d squeeze her hands and forearms in rhythm as she jumped ten times before she would put on seamless socks. You read that correctly - seamless. I’d build thirty plus minutes into every morning to put socks on my daughter. (Shout out to our old dog who gladly ate the rice and noodles that found their way to every room in the house.) Forget about Halloween tricks and haunting – dressing was scary. Weekends were easy-going and fun until it was time to put on shoes or a jacket. Once out of the house, it was anyone’s guess. Even though I could usually identify possible triggers, there was always the unexpected. I will never forget the occasional looks thrown my way when I would take my kids to the grocery store in the dead of winter, my son bundled up like a burrito, while my daughter wore short sleeves, leggings, no shoes, and sometimes no socks, let alone mittens or a hat. Whatever… We needed food.
From the sensory sensitive child’s point of view - getting dressed can be torture. A sensory diet of jumping, swinging, pushing, rolling becomes a way to assuage that torture. Leaving the house can be hard. Going on a family adventure can be harder. Arriving at said adventure, the whole family heightened after a trying car ride can be downright miserable. However, when that destination is Helping Friendly Farm? It’s a little easier. We get it. We want you to be happy. This is your farm, too.
The idea of combining sensory exploration with animals and gardens was made for your family. The sequence and flow of the farm works by allowing the Sensory Barn to work its magic before heading outside to nature and animals. The barn’s rooms were built specifically for engaging in vestibular, proprioceptive, tactile, auditory, and visual stimulation first, so that when visitors go out into the elements, they are better equipped to handle the sensations they experience. They can accept a gust of wind, the smells in the garden, or the light touch of a plant brushing against them. By the time visitors make their way to the goats and chickens, a piece of hay poking into a sock is better tolerated. Maybe even the tickle of a goat kiss is welcomed. And the best part - if there is a meltdown, no one cares! There is always a place at Helping Friendly Farm to find peace or seek movement. We understand what we can and accept what we can’t without judgment. We don’t choose our path in life, but it is ours to navigate. We all deserve access to places where we can be ourselves, and so do our kids.
A few weeks ago, a mom visited HFF with her son. She shied away from the sensory gym and stood in the doorway while her son played, ran, climbed, and jumped. The mom presented almost the opposite of her outgoing, whirlwind son. Where her son was seeking stimulation, the mother appeared to avoid all the noise and activity in the sensory gym, reluctant to even step inside. Her son was supervised by volunteers and seemed content, so I told her that she was welcome to explore the other rooms if she wanted to do so. When she found the light & sound room, her whole demeanor changed. She smiled softly, sank into a bean bag and quietly stared at the bubble tube in the darkened room. After a few minutes, she turned to me and said, “This is what I like.” Fifteen minutes went by before she emerged from the room, noticeably more relaxed. As she went to collect her son to head outside to the gardens, she turned to me and said, “You know, I have autism, too.” Huh. No, I didn’t.
I am always inspired when I see family members each relating to something different at Helping Friendly Farm. Celebrating unique perspectives only serves to strengthen the family unit. I believe the key lies within sharing the experience together. This Thanksgiving I’m grateful to be along for the ride with the families I’ve met, who share themselves with the farm and create memories of joy with each other.