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- Beany Brain #46: At Home and Good Grief
Beany Brain #46: At Home and Good Grief

Beany Brain: loving our jumping-bean brains!
Welcome to this issue of the Beany Brain! I hope today’s newsletter will bounce us up as we contemplate the upsides and challenges of being neurodivergent, a little beauty, some creativity, and just general yeehawesomeness.
Table of Contents
{Content/trigger warning in this issue: mention of suicide and grief.}

Photo by Abigail Munday
At Home
Home is where you can find the bathroom in the middle of the night.
(Abigail Munday)
We’re back to the home topic today, like homing pigeons on a search. Remember when I wrote about home in Beany Brain #44?
Well, folks, I’m still thinking about it.
The other day we were treated to an afternoon out at the Everyman theater (cinema in British English) to see The Salt Path. Have you read the book? (I haven’t yet.) Have you seen the movie/film?
I don’t want to give away any spoilers, but it’s based on a true story, a memoir by Raynor Winn, one half of a couple who became homeless in rural England, and to go along with that a diagnosis for her husband of an incurable degenerative disease. With nowhere else to go, they set out on foot with their tent on the Salt Path, a coastal walk in the southwest of England.
At one point in the movie, Ray (the author of the memoir), looks at her husband, Moth, and says:
You are my home.
I found that so touching, especially as Stephen and I have just celebrated our 24th wedding anniversary. During that time we have moved 7 times, including 3 international moves.

Selfie by moi
We really are home together.
The Japanese have a phrase (atto ho-mu) that comes from the English phrase “at home:”
アットホーム
It means something like a cozy atmosphere. You can say it about a comfy cafe or a soft nook.
And it’s something I pursue.
I guess “hygge” would be a similar concept.
(I’m not religious about it, though.)
For me, it just means somewhere comfortable that I can sit with a book and a cup of tea. Somewhere I can retreat to and hopefully not have to mask.
That’s home too.
My people. My place. My head. My heart. My body.
It’s not simple and yet it is.

This reminds me to keep asking questions—of others and of myself.
Maybe for now “home” can remain a question. A mystery. As ethereal as a philosophical conundrum and as concrete as a cuppa.

Photo by Abigail Munday
Good Grief
Grief is normal; grief is hard.
Both/and.
2025 marks 20 years since one of my dearest friends committed suicide: we went to high school and college together; we played sports together; we made a very stupid home video of a scene of Hamlet together; we drove 13 hours together each way to and from college on many occasions; she introduced me to spaghetti with peanut butter on it (I’ve never had it since); I was a bridesmaid in her wedding; I held her baby when he was brand new (he’s now 25); she threw me a bridal shower.
And I still miss her.
Grief Australia says neurodivergent people may grieve differently than neurotypicals. 20 years ago, at the time of my friend’s unexpected and traumatic death, I didn’t show much outward grief. I was processing inwardly. I was asking questions. My brain was busy with the sharpness of it. I had flown in from Japan quickly. Others around me were more expressive and verbal about their loss.
I think another reason I move inwardly is that I don’t seek attention. I don’t want eyes on me (hello, RSD = rejection sensitive dysphoria).
Grief Australia offers some helpful hints for supporting neurodivergent folks in their grief:
Affirm their experience.
Be clear when communicating.
Prepare them for what’s to come.
Provide comfort through routines.
Be patient.
Seek extra support when necessary.
I still think about my friend. I’m still processing.
I still wish it hadn’t happened.
If you are having thoughts of suicide in the UK, please contact:
In the US, it’s 988.
In Japan, you can get help from TELL in English or Befrienders in Japanese.
Our church here (while we visit) in the UK has an upcoming (and monthly) bereavement cafe that I’m going to try out. I think that’s such a splendid idea to offer to folks—a cup of tea, a chat, or silence if you need it.
Matthew 5:4 says, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
Mourning is active.
It’s normal. How you do it is affected by how your brain works. And that’s OK.
Good grief.

Our friends’ dog Geoff at the Ark Cafe last week. Photo by Stephen Munday.
Yeehawesome!
Yeehawesome! is a happy-brain roundup in each issue of Beany Brain. What’s happening that’s good in brain land? What’s bringing me joy?
Smiles. I feel like the big smiles of two small children and a dog named Geoff (all on different days and in different places) were smiles from God for me.
I got to meet up with a group of other neurodivergent adults at a local pub the other night, and it was lovely to hear struggles and stories that I could relate to. And I can reassure you that spilling peppermint tea all over your tennis shoe won’t stain it. I have no idea how I know that.
Harry Specters, an ethically-made chocolate company, was founded by a family whose son is autistic, and they deliberately hire autistic people to work and train there.
Beany Brownie Points and Extra Bonus Funniness

Tea with Tolkien
Wonderful Wednesday
Wonderful Wednesday was a day once a year in college when they would suddenly and surprisingly call off all classes and we’d play all day. The cafeteria provided special fun food and we’d do stuff outside like slip ‘n slides and jello wrestling in sumo suits. This segment of Beany Brain is dedicated to that memory of silliness and fun—no words, just a photo from the week that I’ve taken or found that reminds me to let the joy in. Since Beany Brain is published on Wednesday every week (at least, Wednesday in Japan), I hope you enjoy this Wonderful Wednesday.

Photo by Abigail Munday
Today’s Beany-full Summary:
Still considering what home means.
Grief is good, and it can also be different for neurodivergent and neurotypical people.
Go forth in Beany joy. What will help you feel yeehawesome this week?
Thank you for reading this installment of Beany Brain! You’re very welcome to hop on by any old time.
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