It's a gorgeous almost fall day outside. Sunny, breezy, kid with Autism not in too much mania, you know, the PERFECT day. Except for drama. Why does there always have to be drama? Why can't I just enjoy a nice day. I don't remember the last time I enjoyed a day.
**FROM HERE DOWN IS NOTHING BUT A BIG PITY PARTY BITCH FEST. CONTINUE READING OR NOT. BUT IF YOU CONTINUE READING, PLEASE, EITHER COMMENT WITH SUPPORTIVE "There there" TYPE COMMENTS OR STFU...BECAUSE YOU COULD HAVE STOPPED READING.*****
Seriously, I do not create drama. I usually go out of my way to avoid drama, often at the expense of my own sanity. Well, there's a futile effort because I deny myself and end up with more than my damn share of drama.
I have always worked hard to ensure that people around me are happy. I'm a little Cinderella-ish in that way because I feel like I sleep near fires and everything around me is all dirty....but I want to make everyone happy....but I'm a little tired of nobody caring if I am ACTUALLY happy. They want me happy enough that I don't lash out and make them miserable...but actually helping to prevent me from that lashing out, nah. Too much effort it seems.
Putting things back where you got them (better yet, back where they were when I put them away...because in all likelihood, you picked them up after someone else picked them up and just put them wherever.)
Hanging up a towel? seriously, you like mold? Yeah, I don't. It's gross. Preventing easier than cleaning.
Putting clean clothes away so they don't imitate the dirty ones? I'm TIRED OF SO MUCH LAUNDRY. I don't mind laundry from people wearing clothes. But how many outfits you need in a day? TWO. Work/School and relaxing clothes. But washing clothes because someone couldn't be bothered to put them away and little stimmer stimming and throwing them on filthy floor? Yeah, ticks me off. Makes my left eye twitch. Pretty sure that's a serial killer "tell".
Unloading dishwasher? Those things are clean. Put them away (again, see, put them away where they belong). You won't get cooties from them. I promise.
That brings me to the kitchen sink/hazardous waste gathering place. Do that one up there ^ and then rinse your dishes and put them in dishwasher. Then that disgusting smell won't build. Those gnat/fruitfly whatever things...won't hang out. Seriously. PREVENTION.
Seriously. Get me some help before I need some professional help. Or just get me a damned straightjacket and take me away so I can get some sleep.
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
A little fall of rain
It's a rainy day/evening here in New Mexico--a rare one. It's not all monsoony and floody...well, it has been at times, but it's now more a gentle little fall of rain that can't hurt me now. Yeah, I totally just plagiarized one of my favorite musicals...but it is stream of consciousness writing weather with the stream of water rushing down the curbside. It is a gentle pitt-patt of rain outside that I listen to right now with the door open. It is a small chill in the air that makes my toes cool and reminds me that fall is falling all around.
I am also listening to Pandora radio..on the "soothe the savage beast" station that bounces between some of my favorites from the 80s & 90s--New Age music that I loved to listen to when the cool October rains fell all around the campus of KU, making the tree trunks dark and the large colorful leaves brighter in comparison. It soothes the savage beast inside of my beautiful son so that a peace can overtake him and allow him the rest his active body so desperately needs. I hope that his dreams are as peaceful as his face in repose.
He enjoys the gentle fall of rain as well. Was pure faerie magic to watch him skip and spin in the rain--arms outstretched so that as much of him could be touched by the light caress of water falling from the sky; his face upturned in rapturous delight as the drops kiss his impossibly long eyelashes. My delight in that was equaled only by the sound of his belly giggles as he swung on his rope in the heavier rains. His frenzy actually controlled by him--whipping himself around the tree trunk, once getting a little too close to the wading pool of water whose level was higher thanks to the blessing of rain--his little bottom getting entirely soaked dipping in, oh how he LAUGHED. I'd once heard that a child's laughter gives birth to faeries--well, there was certainly a faerie baby boom this afternoon should there be truth in that! His laugh is the caulk in the heart cracks caused by our inability to effectively communicate as often as I would like.
And now I may turn off the music and listen to nature's song....and try to keep from stealing Eponine's song. . .
I am also listening to Pandora radio..on the "soothe the savage beast" station that bounces between some of my favorites from the 80s & 90s--New Age music that I loved to listen to when the cool October rains fell all around the campus of KU, making the tree trunks dark and the large colorful leaves brighter in comparison. It soothes the savage beast inside of my beautiful son so that a peace can overtake him and allow him the rest his active body so desperately needs. I hope that his dreams are as peaceful as his face in repose.
He enjoys the gentle fall of rain as well. Was pure faerie magic to watch him skip and spin in the rain--arms outstretched so that as much of him could be touched by the light caress of water falling from the sky; his face upturned in rapturous delight as the drops kiss his impossibly long eyelashes. My delight in that was equaled only by the sound of his belly giggles as he swung on his rope in the heavier rains. His frenzy actually controlled by him--whipping himself around the tree trunk, once getting a little too close to the wading pool of water whose level was higher thanks to the blessing of rain--his little bottom getting entirely soaked dipping in, oh how he LAUGHED. I'd once heard that a child's laughter gives birth to faeries--well, there was certainly a faerie baby boom this afternoon should there be truth in that! His laugh is the caulk in the heart cracks caused by our inability to effectively communicate as often as I would like.
And now I may turn off the music and listen to nature's song....and try to keep from stealing Eponine's song. . .
Saturday, October 6, 2012
Boneless weary
Have you ever had moments in your life when you feel as if your bones have been liquified? And I don't mean that someone has given you a kiss so wonderful you wanted to melt; I mean the feeling that your body has had all it can take and your bones have just disappeared. And not in the cool way that Harry Potter's arm bone was magically removed in book 2. Just had your bones sucked right out of you where you stood and you crashed to the ground.
I have.
First time I remember it happening was for someone foolish. And I blame the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol. But when you think you are in "love" and come home to find him and all of his crap gone, and you've not yet realized he had done you a big favor, and you've been drinking, it stands (or falls) to reason.
Second time, January 3, 2009, something in my body knew before my brain allowed me to realize that I'd lost my mother forever. I still cry when I think about that because that's when everything in my life fell apart and I think that I lost more than my bones that day--I lost so much of my soul that I think I shall never, ever recover. I miss her and although I grieve so much every day, I still can't heal.
The last time was the other night. I just hate autism so much and I just can't deal with it anymore. I can't help him and I can't protect the littlest from his rages and so I fail them both. And whatever little bit of a soul I had left after January 2009 just died in me.
I have no backbone left. I can't state how I feel to people that need to know how I feel because I can't even express to them in words what needs to be seen, heard and understood. I cannot fathom how it's not obvious. Apparently I don't understand the self-absorption that would blind someone to the reality around them. I just don't. Or perhaps I am so self-absorbed, I'm the one that is blinded. I don't know. I don't know anymore and am weary of being blamed for being a "know-it-all" and a "no-it all" at the same time. I'm weary. And boneless. And soulless.
I have.
First time I remember it happening was for someone foolish. And I blame the ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-alcohol. But when you think you are in "love" and come home to find him and all of his crap gone, and you've not yet realized he had done you a big favor, and you've been drinking, it stands (or falls) to reason.
Second time, January 3, 2009, something in my body knew before my brain allowed me to realize that I'd lost my mother forever. I still cry when I think about that because that's when everything in my life fell apart and I think that I lost more than my bones that day--I lost so much of my soul that I think I shall never, ever recover. I miss her and although I grieve so much every day, I still can't heal.
The last time was the other night. I just hate autism so much and I just can't deal with it anymore. I can't help him and I can't protect the littlest from his rages and so I fail them both. And whatever little bit of a soul I had left after January 2009 just died in me.
I have no backbone left. I can't state how I feel to people that need to know how I feel because I can't even express to them in words what needs to be seen, heard and understood. I cannot fathom how it's not obvious. Apparently I don't understand the self-absorption that would blind someone to the reality around them. I just don't. Or perhaps I am so self-absorbed, I'm the one that is blinded. I don't know. I don't know anymore and am weary of being blamed for being a "know-it-all" and a "no-it all" at the same time. I'm weary. And boneless. And soulless.
Monday, April 2, 2012
Autism Awareness and Poetry Appreciation
Since April is both Autism Awareness and Poetry Appreciation month, I figure maybe I'll write a poem a day--and try to have a theme going.
I found a bunch of things I used when I taught poetry and I think I will also take the opportunity to do some experimenting with my poetry writing by exploring different styles. I might even do a couple poems of the same type. Who knows what I will do. What I hope that I do is actually WRITE one poem a day. Now, these will all be rough drafts and perhaps I will revisit them and refine them. perhaps I won't....but here goes. And since I missed April 1 since I didn't THINK of it yesterday, I'll post TWO.
Autism
Unruly, unique, unbelievable, upheaval
Timid, tiresome, ticklish
Impish, incredible, indigo, imaginative, impatient
Sociallyawkward, stigma, silly scoundrel
Marvelous, moving, magnificent, misunderstood.I Wish
I wish I could see the world through his eyes
I wish I could understand his needs better—especially when he doesn’t feel well
I wish I could be sure he knows that I adore him
I wish I had more patience
I wish everyone knew his fits of laughter more than his fits
I wish there was more understanding
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
We get by with a little help from our friends. Margaritas might help too.
The following words are not mine. They are from a friend who is foraging a path through the forest of Autism that I will be travelling at some point. It was a private message to me. She has a son on the spectrum. And like all of us, she loves her son. Even when the autism doesn't make it easy. Unless you've traveled this path, please do not dare to judge. (I asked for her permission to publish this. Names have been removed to respect her wishes. Her wishes for her son to never know how she struggles because she doesn't ever want him to doubt her love for him made me think about how much I complain about my son. She humbles me for more reasons than this.) I'm going to shut up now and let her "speak"; please listen. Sometimes we need to give each other our voices too.
You know, I don't post as openly about autism on my Facebook because I never want my son to see me ranting about him when he is on FB. Stinks when they grow up. But boy, today has been a day. And, I'm betting my 17 year-old doesn't appear to be all that different from your little boy today. He is on spring break. Spring break, and all other school breaks are a nightmare for those with autism. They just screw up the routine!
He went on an impulsive eating binge while I was in the shower- marshmallows, raw carrots, chocolate cake, funions, ovaltine and milk- and then threw up. Like a toddler I might add, leaving the mess for someone else to clean up while he stormed off slamming doors and screaming. He refused to go to the psychiatrist for his appointment. He dumped chips into the dishwasher his little sister was unloading--leaving her in a fit of tears.
And now, while we wait on the in-home therapist to come and help get him checked into temporary respite care (that is the 'treatment plan' for when he creates a hostile or fearful environment in the home) he is sleeping like a baby which only makes us clench our fists and doubt ourselves for following the treatment plan.
And when it is all said and done tonight, I will have to deal with my mom and husband's mom and the brother-in-law who all sit in judgement because somehow we were responsible for his behavior and didn't handle it right. And then when we lay down to sleep we will beat ourselves up yet again for sending him away and wonder what we could have done to make it all go differently and then we'll surrender because we know we've done everything we possibly can. We'll remind ourselves that working toward long-term assisted living really is the right thing to do for him and then we'll cry ourselves to sleep because it hurts.
I am so mad right now because I want to tell this to the world, but I can't because my son might see it and he might not understand that we love him more than anything in the world even though we struggle so much with his behavior. So I share it silently with another mom who's 'been there' and try to hold my head up high
You know, I don't post as openly about autism on my Facebook because I never want my son to see me ranting about him when he is on FB. Stinks when they grow up. But boy, today has been a day. And, I'm betting my 17 year-old doesn't appear to be all that different from your little boy today. He is on spring break. Spring break, and all other school breaks are a nightmare for those with autism. They just screw up the routine!
He went on an impulsive eating binge while I was in the shower- marshmallows, raw carrots, chocolate cake, funions, ovaltine and milk- and then threw up. Like a toddler I might add, leaving the mess for someone else to clean up while he stormed off slamming doors and screaming. He refused to go to the psychiatrist for his appointment. He dumped chips into the dishwasher his little sister was unloading--leaving her in a fit of tears.
And now, while we wait on the in-home therapist to come and help get him checked into temporary respite care (that is the 'treatment plan' for when he creates a hostile or fearful environment in the home) he is sleeping like a baby which only makes us clench our fists and doubt ourselves for following the treatment plan.
And when it is all said and done tonight, I will have to deal with my mom and husband's mom and the brother-in-law who all sit in judgement because somehow we were responsible for his behavior and didn't handle it right. And then when we lay down to sleep we will beat ourselves up yet again for sending him away and wonder what we could have done to make it all go differently and then we'll surrender because we know we've done everything we possibly can. We'll remind ourselves that working toward long-term assisted living really is the right thing to do for him and then we'll cry ourselves to sleep because it hurts.
I am so mad right now because I want to tell this to the world, but I can't because my son might see it and he might not understand that we love him more than anything in the world even though we struggle so much with his behavior. So I share it silently with another mom who's 'been there' and try to hold my head up high
Friday, October 28, 2011
I have green eyes, just like you....
Apparently I once told my green eyed mother, "I have green eyes, just like you." Well, if you know me or have seen any photos of me, you know my eyes are as brown as brown can be. My eyes may not be the color green of my mother's, but they are green today for other reasons.
It's not easy for me to admit, but they are green like the green-eyed monster of jealousy. It's not pretty, but unfortunately it's true. I figure, the first step is admitting it.
I am jealous of people who don't have to constantly use pictures to communicate (or attempt to) with their child.
I am jealous of people that don't have to lock their cabinets and refrigerators because of more than the normal kid-getting-into-cabinet-and-spilling-entire-packages-0f-cereal/gatorade/rice/milk/soda/bread/mother's sanity that other people have to deal with daily.
I am jealous of people who don't have to battle to keep their children into carseats. And by battle, I mean BATTLE. As in I have wounds. Bruises, scratches, bite marks, pinches. I have yet to have a broken bone although my nose begs to differ. (And, yes, I know that my nose is cartilage. But broken cartilage can't feel much better, especially when it's on the front of your face. Oh, I forgot that my elbow, which had been fractured about 20+ years ago has swelling and brusing and could be micro-fractured again. Yep. Just because someone's sister got out of the car without him.
I am jealous of people that don't lie partially awake every night worrying that their child will again figure out how to get windows open and climb out just because the outside is so damned tempting.
I am jealous of people that get naps.
I am jealous of people who have outside assistance so that there is respite.
I am jealous of people that don't have to wipe poop off their 5 year olds on top of all of the other shit.
I am jealous of people who are stronger than I and have created a world for themselves where they provide help to others, can ask for help from others, can accept help from others and then get a home built especially for them to make their struggles easier. (yay for the family that has a home and land and are financially secure and were lucky enough to have ABC come build them an extreme home and get a Hawaiian vacation out of it.)
I am jealous of people that can pee in peace.
I am jealous of people that don't have shredded toilet paper carpeting their floors.
I am jealous of people that don't have to interrupt their selfish blogging time to clean up spilled mountain dew because I forgot to put it in the locked refrigerator.
I am jealous.
It's not easy for me to admit, but they are green like the green-eyed monster of jealousy. It's not pretty, but unfortunately it's true. I figure, the first step is admitting it.
I am jealous of people who don't have to constantly use pictures to communicate (or attempt to) with their child.
I am jealous of people that don't have to lock their cabinets and refrigerators because of more than the normal kid-getting-into-cabinet-and-spilling-entire-packages-0f-cereal/gatorade/rice/milk/soda/bread/mother's sanity that other people have to deal with daily.
I am jealous of people who don't have to battle to keep their children into carseats. And by battle, I mean BATTLE. As in I have wounds. Bruises, scratches, bite marks, pinches. I have yet to have a broken bone although my nose begs to differ. (And, yes, I know that my nose is cartilage. But broken cartilage can't feel much better, especially when it's on the front of your face. Oh, I forgot that my elbow, which had been fractured about 20+ years ago has swelling and brusing and could be micro-fractured again. Yep. Just because someone's sister got out of the car without him.
I am jealous of people that don't lie partially awake every night worrying that their child will again figure out how to get windows open and climb out just because the outside is so damned tempting.
I am jealous of people that get naps.
I am jealous of people who have outside assistance so that there is respite.
I am jealous of people that don't have to wipe poop off their 5 year olds on top of all of the other shit.
I am jealous of people who are stronger than I and have created a world for themselves where they provide help to others, can ask for help from others, can accept help from others and then get a home built especially for them to make their struggles easier. (yay for the family that has a home and land and are financially secure and were lucky enough to have ABC come build them an extreme home and get a Hawaiian vacation out of it.)
I am jealous of people that can pee in peace.
I am jealous of people that don't have shredded toilet paper carpeting their floors.
I am jealous of people that don't have to interrupt their selfish blogging time to clean up spilled mountain dew because I forgot to put it in the locked refrigerator.
I am jealous.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
A dream is a wish your heart makes. Until your Mom breaks it.
"I want to hold Mickey's hand and watch the stars!" There is just no way to convey how compelling those words were when uttered by Maggie when she was about 3 years old and Disney was running ads about dreams coming true for the millennium and a child is holding Mickey Mouse's hand and watching the fireworks. Maybe if you'd seen her wide brown eyes begging from under bangs that had needed trimming for about two months as she clasped one hand into the other in illustration of holding Mickey's you'd get it. But you weren't there and it wasn't your heart being squeezed in between those hands. I actually burst into tears and promised I would someday take her.
I looked into it, was going to take out a 401k loan to take her, but decided to use the money to move to Albuquerque that year instead. Sorry Maggie.
About a year and a half later, though......Spring Break Kindergarten for Maggie, my BFF Melissa and her son Dakota, (7 months older than Maggie) flew into Albuquerque for the 13 hour drive to LA--destination DisneyLand. It was truly a magical kingdom and fun. I had the most fun, followed by the 5 and 6 year olds, followed by the only adult in the group, Melissa. Yeah, I admit it. I acted like a giddy child. I'd never been, Melissa had been countless times, and, well, youth is wasted on the young...so I had the most fun. (I remember it all. Maggie has vague memories augmented by the 20+ rolls of film I acquired of our experiences over 5 days. 3 days in the park, 1 cold rainy-ish day at the ocean, 1 afternoon at the top of the precipice of the Grand Canyon, and then two or three days of travel, which barely count.)
At the time of the trip of a lifetime, Maggie was obsessed with Little Mermaid. I say obsessed only because it's true and she got it from me. I went to it when it first came out in theaters about 9 times. First on our agenda was to go to see Ariel. (If you've never been to Disney theme parks, the characters are live, life size (or larger) and all over! You can stand in line and see them and get photos and autographs and I'm getting excited all over again just TYPING about it!) *Deep breath--inhale slowly, exhale slowly.....* Ok, I can continue. Maggie had been working on coloring pictures to give to her idol. The photos I have from that experience are priceless. She was so excited about the experience that before falling asleep in her bed that night, she colored about 10 more pictures for Ariel. Day 2 was an opening repeat of Day 1. Ariel first. Maggie was giddy.
So because of her love of Ariel, and she was going to need a new backpack ANYHOW, I found one with Ariel on it when I was Christmas shopping. And since I had already spoiled her rotten with items from me, I thought it would be cute to give her the backpack and sign the card "Ariel". (And if anyone gets their underpants in a wad about it, there better be nothing under YOUR tree from Santa Claus.) Oh, the look of joy on her face that her friend Ariel remembered her! It was the best face ever. Too bad nobody but me got to see it. Eh, stinks to be you guys. Sorry, I was actually IN the moment rather than viewing it from behind the camera. You'll get over it. Of course, you'll never see that face again because of what happened a few years later.
She found out the truth. It took a couple of years. I don't remember when exactly she realized it. But she yells at me constantly about it. "YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" Yes, sometimes she means this because I "lied" to her about Ariel giving her that backpack. She was more upset about THIS than when she figured out Santa=me in our house too. (I wonder if she would rather think she'd been on the naughty list all of those years.)
So, in one year, I made her dreams come true and shattered them. (The shattering actually came a few years after, but hey, it doesn't sound as cool.) And I'm sure that since she just turned 15, she will utter those words again for various reasons. But I would do it again given the chance.
I looked into it, was going to take out a 401k loan to take her, but decided to use the money to move to Albuquerque that year instead. Sorry Maggie.
About a year and a half later, though......Spring Break Kindergarten for Maggie, my BFF Melissa and her son Dakota, (7 months older than Maggie) flew into Albuquerque for the 13 hour drive to LA--destination DisneyLand. It was truly a magical kingdom and fun. I had the most fun, followed by the 5 and 6 year olds, followed by the only adult in the group, Melissa. Yeah, I admit it. I acted like a giddy child. I'd never been, Melissa had been countless times, and, well, youth is wasted on the young...so I had the most fun. (I remember it all. Maggie has vague memories augmented by the 20+ rolls of film I acquired of our experiences over 5 days. 3 days in the park, 1 cold rainy-ish day at the ocean, 1 afternoon at the top of the precipice of the Grand Canyon, and then two or three days of travel, which barely count.)
At the time of the trip of a lifetime, Maggie was obsessed with Little Mermaid. I say obsessed only because it's true and she got it from me. I went to it when it first came out in theaters about 9 times. First on our agenda was to go to see Ariel. (If you've never been to Disney theme parks, the characters are live, life size (or larger) and all over! You can stand in line and see them and get photos and autographs and I'm getting excited all over again just TYPING about it!) *Deep breath--inhale slowly, exhale slowly.....* Ok, I can continue. Maggie had been working on coloring pictures to give to her idol. The photos I have from that experience are priceless. She was so excited about the experience that before falling asleep in her bed that night, she colored about 10 more pictures for Ariel. Day 2 was an opening repeat of Day 1. Ariel first. Maggie was giddy.
So because of her love of Ariel, and she was going to need a new backpack ANYHOW, I found one with Ariel on it when I was Christmas shopping. And since I had already spoiled her rotten with items from me, I thought it would be cute to give her the backpack and sign the card "Ariel". (And if anyone gets their underpants in a wad about it, there better be nothing under YOUR tree from Santa Claus.) Oh, the look of joy on her face that her friend Ariel remembered her! It was the best face ever. Too bad nobody but me got to see it. Eh, stinks to be you guys. Sorry, I was actually IN the moment rather than viewing it from behind the camera. You'll get over it. Of course, you'll never see that face again because of what happened a few years later.
She found out the truth. It took a couple of years. I don't remember when exactly she realized it. But she yells at me constantly about it. "YOU RUINED MY LIFE!" Yes, sometimes she means this because I "lied" to her about Ariel giving her that backpack. She was more upset about THIS than when she figured out Santa=me in our house too. (I wonder if she would rather think she'd been on the naughty list all of those years.)
So, in one year, I made her dreams come true and shattered them. (The shattering actually came a few years after, but hey, it doesn't sound as cool.) And I'm sure that since she just turned 15, she will utter those words again for various reasons. But I would do it again given the chance.
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