Fossilmania

If I hadn't gone into psychology, I would have gone into geology.  The only thing that decided me against it was the fact that a lot of geologists end up working for oil companies, which I didn't want to do, or out in the field (literally), which I cannot do and take care of my kids at the same time.

So it's just a hobby.  It's a lifelong hobby, actually.  When I was a kid, my parents would take me and my brother to Colorado for camping vacations.  Every tourist trap always had rock samples for sale.  I think what cemented it for me was the time we rented a cabin in Estes Park.  The Fall River ran behind those cabins, pretty rapidly and ice cold (yeah, a totally safe spot for kids to play! :P) and there were huge boulders sticking up out of the water.  One morning my brother and I went out there, and someone had very carefully set a piece of iron pyrite (fool's gold) and some other interesting specimens on the top of this boulder.

Yes, I took them all.

No, I am not ashamed.  No one was there, and it was impossible to tell who they belonged to.   Etc, etc. justification, blah blah blah.

After that I was often looking at the ground.  I had a box under my bed that was full of rocks.

Fast forward years and the two geology classes I took at Hill College just fanned the flames.  Now I have a huge appreciation for this hobby.   To me, geology is history.  It's a record.  And (all scientists everywhere are going to roll their eyes at this one, but I care not) it's God's diary.  (Hey, He created all of it.  It's not specific about how).  I'm going to finish my MS in clinical therapy...and then perhaps go back to school and indulge myself in this.

Tomorrow at the Glen Rose Conference Center, my oldest son and youngest daughter and I will be attending "Fossilmania".  I've never been but I'm told it's so cool.  It's free to get in, and there are free things for the kids and lots of things to look at.  I can't wait...that, coupled with the Dallas Gem and Mineral Show in November, is going to send me into Sparkly Overload.  (A sparkly is my non-scientific term for any rock or mineral that...well..sparkles...)  

Anyhow, it's late, and I've been watching The Flash. I wish I could run that fast....

"One Day" is the treasure that I've buried in my heart.  

Pumpkins and Spice and Everything Nice

I took my 3 year old for a walk today.  And ohmygosh. The weather.  So perfect.  

This is my absolute favorite time of year!  I love things that smell good, and to me, fall smells good.  And it sounds good.  The wind blowing against windows.  Rain on the roof.  Leaves crunching under my feet.  There isn't anything not to like.

Fall is the perfect weather for hunting through old cemeteries for that perfect photograph (sounds morbid, I know, but to me, ancient tombstones are historical relics, and should be respected and memorialized).  It's the time of year when I can feel my spirit lifting, in spite of gray skies and chilly evenings...both of which I love.  It's the perfect time of year to throw a soup in the slow cooker, or some chili (with chickpeas...for texture...) and for revisiting Marystown, once again.

What is Marystown, do you ask?  Well...it's this little Texas town, and strange things happen there.  It's become a tradition to write about it once a year...and this year, I think darkness is hovering in a grocery store parking lot...

More to come, dear readers.  Stay tuned.

Pain is a beautiful thing.  It skins you alive and turns you into a creature you might not have been had you lived another life.

As a human being, when life's challenges hit home I experience them pretty much like anyone else.  I get angry, sad, depressed, stressed, whatever.  But there's also something in me, as a writer, that stands back and watches and learns. I remember reading an article in Writer's magazine years ago.  I don't remember who said it or the exact wording, but it was a female writer, and she said something like, My dog could die, my house could burn, my husband could leave, and there would still be a part of me standing to the side and saying, Isn't this interesting?

Which sounds like something a psychopath would utter.  It seems so devoid of appropriate feeling.  But the way I look at it is this:  Life is a beautiful mess.  It's the chaos of the hurricane caused by the mosquito that your grandmother swatted on a front porch one summer evening.  You never know what can fall in your lap...the good or the bad.  It's scary and exciting and terrible and wonderful, and if you really want to enjoy it, you have to accept all of it.

This past week my son was admitted to a psychiatric ward at a children's hospital.  We took him there because his behavior had finally gotten the best of us.  It was more than we could handle.  We realized, while he was gone, that we had just been managing our lives this entire time.  We were putting out fires and forgetting to live. I confided this incident to a few friends and inevitably, they were horrified.  They felt sorry for us and sorry for him and wanted to fix it.  A couple of friends listened and then changed the subject and redirected the conversation back to themselves.  A couple of friends brought food.  One friend told me I didn't have to have all the answers right now, and she was the one I listened to the most.

The point is that we got some help for our kid.  It was a long time coming.  I am by no means convinced that all problems are now solved and we can move forward with the warm assurance that this new medication he's on is the magic bullet that will put down the moody beast that rears its ugly head in him on his worst days.  Instead I've learned, this week, that each day is like a pearl on a string.  Some of those pearls are flawless.  Some of them are misshapen, like freshwater baubles.  And some of them are discolored.  But they are all pearls, and they all have their own beauty.  I've also learned that there are too many things I have let fall by the wayside, and too many things I have put up with for far too long.  Life is precious.  Life is sweet.  Life is not meant to be wasted feeling sad.

My son is not his disorder.  He, himself, is also precious, and sweet.  Dealing with is disorder is a one day at a time scenario.  I consider him, and the extraordinary amount of patience, and love, that he requires, and wonder how many people would actually be able to do it?

Swim upstream

Kick the hornet’s nest

Poke the tiger

Rattle some cages

Make them uncomfortable

GO AGAINST THE GRAIN

Open your mouth

Make the leap

Live out loud

Change the world

It's heartbreaking to watch a personal fiction unravel.

Domestic Violence Awareness Month

This month is domestic violence awareness month.

I'm still amazed at the attitudes some people take towards this.  Especially the attitude of "She/He must like it or she/he would leave".

It's not that simple.

Part of the reason domestic violence is so hard to combat is because the perpetrator becomes very skilled at demoralizing his or her victim.  The victim feels powerless, they begin to believe they don't deserve better, and often, their very lives or the lives of their children are at stake.  It escalates and sometimes the victim becomes a prisoner in their own home.  The abuser dictates who they can see and talk to and when. They are often quick to jump to conclusions about their victim's behavior.  They check mileage on their victim's car.  They cut off means of communication.  Some women, and some men, end up dead, or they walk out with just the clothes on their back rather than stay in this intolerable situation.

Verbal abuse is even more insidious, and while it doesn't leave physical scars, it does leave psychological ones.  Verbal abuse includes making threats (if you don't do A, then I'm going to leave, or if you don't do A, then I'll do B, and you won't like it when I do B), making comments about a person's appearance and intellectual ability (you're really stupid, you know that?), twisting situations around and blaming the victim for the perpetrator's own anger or misbehavior (if you didn't do A, or act like A, then I wouldn't have to act like B, or do B.  This is totally false, because everyone is responsible for their own behavior).  It also includes interrupting, not listening, discounting feelings and opinions,and  acting concerned when in reality the abuser is trying to control someone's behavior. It includes not giving due consideration to someone's opinion, or respecting those opinions even if you don't agree with them.  It includes not being able to take responsibility for one's own actions (Spouse:  I'm not happy because you said/did A.  Abuser:  Oh, so it's my fault?  *proceeds to verbally attack spouse* instead of listening and trying to come to a resolution). It also includes continuing a behavior that the abuser knows makes the spouse sad, miserable, uncomfortable, or embarrassed. The spouse becomes trapped in a deadly cycle with the verbal abuser, because they think they can make the abuser understand them or see their point of view.  This will never happen.  The abuser likes the feeling he/she gets from being "right" and "in power" all the time.  They're really not interested in a loving relationship.

Have you also noticed that I have referred to the victim as HE or She?  Statistically, women are most often the victims of domestic abuse.  But men are too.  Men don't receive as much attention for this because of society's perception of women as the "weaker" sex, but abuse can happen in any relationship, to any gender, even among LGBT couples.  And it's really not about gender.  It's about one person mistreating another person.

If you are being abused  and you need help, call this number.  This is the National Domestic Violence Abuse Hotline.  1-800-799-7233.  

The Dual Child

Once again, I have come down with some sort of cold or virus, and I am hacking and coughing.  The 80-year old man is back.  I'm tired of being sick and sick of being tired.  You never fully appreciate your ability to navigate life until something impedes your skill to do so.

I've titled this entry "The Dual Child" for a reason.  People never believe me when I tell them that my son is one child at school, and a completely different person at home.  I once tried to explain this to a psychiatrist that had practiced for a number of years.  He was in his 70's and working at our local MHMR clinic, if that tells you anything.  I explained the personality difference between the boy at school and the boy at home.  He told me he didn't believe me.  That he had never heard of anything like it.  Besides the fact that I didn't appreciate being called a liar in so many words, nor that my authority as the expert on my son wasn't recognized, it disappointed me that someone who was supposed to be in the business of helping people wasn't educated enough on the newest frontier of psychiatry.  The word "fossil" comes to mind, but I digress.

My son has been described by his teachers as "a model student", "the sweetest boy", "always does what he is told", "never causes a problem", etc.  All of this is true.  He is sweet, and when he is not overstimulated or dealing with change in his schedule, he is the calmest child and easy to talk to and reason with.

He is not like this at home.

The strict predictability of a school day does wonders for him. If children with ASD thrive on scheduling, then this environment will, of course, suit his psyche.  He always knows what to expect.  The same people are always there.  He eats lunch at the same time every day.  He has similar assignments every day.  The same classes at the same time.  Not everyone will behave in the same manner, but there are rules, and most of the time, those rules are followed.  Mom drops him off at the same time every morning and picks him at the same time in the afternoon.  Do you see now this might calm a child riddled with anxiety?  The sheer sameness of each passing day poses no threat and no surprise to him.

Home is different.  In a home, you cannot keep a schedule like this, nor should you expect your other, neuro-typical children to adhere to it. There are unexpected sounds and noises.  Because of everyone's crazy schedule, dinner is probably not at the same time every night.  Not everyone behaves in a predictable manner because when you're at home, you're freer to express yourself, and to wear what you want, watch something on tv, listen to music, have friends over.  It's unpredictable.  It's an unpredictability that neuro-typical people don't think much about, but to a child with ASD, it's very hard to deal with.  So when he's at home, my son screams, or hits things, or acts out.  He gets overstimulated very easily.  It's not something a lot of people understand. There have been times when he has stood in our front yard, shrieking until I could get him into the house.  In all the times we've lived here, our neighbors have never complained or said anything.  They must be saints, because I know they've heard him on more than one occasion.

So what is the point of explaining all of this to you?  The point is that just because something looks one way to you, doesn't mean that it is that way.  I've had people comment to me that I do this mothering thing with my son so well, that my husband and I have it all together, etc.  I appreciate their faith in me, I appreciate the encouragement, and I appreciate their belief that this is easy.  I'm here to tell you that it's not.  It's the hardest thing in the world.  It changes you.  It makes you into a different person.  You start to see the world differently, and you start to view other people differently. This isn't a bad thing.  There are many things I've learned from my son that I wouldn't trade anything for, and I would never want to go back to the person I was before I had him.  I just want to make the point that it's very easy to make assumptions about people.  You really can't know someone else's experience unless you've lived through it yourself, or know that person extremely well.

How do we solve the issue of the "dual child"?  The answer is, you don't.  You cannot create a school environment at home, anymore than the school can become "homey".  You provide as much predictability as is reasonable for you to provide, and you teach your child with ASD that at home, this is the way things are done, and at school, they are done a different way.  You learn ways to calm him, or re-direct him.  Above all else you have to operate with understanding that you are not dealing with someone who is malicious.  You are dealing with someone who is carrying an extreme case of anxiety, and that anxiety may cause them to say and do things that are hard to watch and even harder to deal with.  If you let go of your expectation that your child with ASD will stay calm and that you can make them into something else, things will be, in some ways, less stressful for you.

The Conservatory

I went to get my hair cut today and on the way home decided to stop at the Botanical Gardens in Fort Worth.  I haven't been there in years.  I think the last time I went there was for a friend's wedding over twenty years ago!

Anyhow, everything was vaguely familiar, until I went inside the main building and saw that there was a conservatory.  I had no memory of this.  You have to pay a couple of bucks to go inside it, but if you love plants and gardening, it's well worth it.

The conservatory is like a giant rainforest.  The air is very humid and there is water everywhere.  There are ponds and waterfalls incorporated into the landscape and some plants, like the one in my picture, are at least two stories tall.

I could have stayed in there forever.  I'm not joking.  It was amazing and peaceful and beautiful.

I had the chance to wander around the grounds as well, and that was gorgeous too, but since I was short on time I didn't get to explore as much as I would have liked.

Sometimes unexpected detours are the best trips of all.  If you have a chance to visit the conservatory, I highly recommend it.

Unplugged

This week has been a life-event type of week for our family.

Puberty and autism don't go well together.  There are a lot of reasons for this, but mainly it's because when a child with autism experiences puberty, they can't really express what they're feeling.  There are too many changes going on physically and emotionally.  A woman wrote another blog entry about it this week and I identified with it in every aspect.  Needless to say, stress has built up in our home over time.  You don't realize how close you are to the breaking point until you take a step back and look at the situation from a different angle.

My oldest son and daughter are partially home-schooled.  Part of the beauty of home school is that if you want to spend some quality time with your kids and just take a day off, you can do that without getting a bunch of phone calls or having to write a bunch of notes.  So, my husband took the day off work and we took our oldest son and daughter, and our baby girl, and left town for a little while.

It was just a day trip.  We stopped and got kolaches.  I'm a big believer in trying new things as long as those new things aren't illegal, and I'm embarrassed to say I never had a kolache.

I have no regrets.  That's all I'm going to say.  Oh, and that I walked it all off later.

We then paid a visit to Cameron Park Zoo in Waco.  This is what I imagine a "boutique" zoo would look like.  It's small, but really beautiful.  Because we went there on a Thursday, we had the zoo practically to ourselves.  It was a gorgeous day, we got to wander around at our leisure and enjoy each other and the animals, and we had a great time.

This is the first time in months that I have felt so calm, and at peace.  The pain in my neck, where all my stress seems to settle, did not make an appearance today.  I tried to examine the day to see what I did differently, and what I did differently was I experienced something new.  I went somewhere new.  I also did not check my email all day, did not make any phone calls, except to a family member to let her know where we were, did not work on school work, did not work on real estate, did not clean the house, did not stress about dinner, and I crashed on the couch after I picked up Logan from school and had a great half an hour where I just held him and we talked and watched tv.

It was heavenly.

And I wondered what would happen if everyone could unplug like that at least once a week?  I know it's not possible.  It's not possible to travel somewhere new once a week, but what if once a week we just stopped everything.  What if once a week the only commitment we had was to ourselves?  That sounds incredibly selfish, and maybe it is...but what if we took a time out more often and gave ourselves time to think, and relax?  Perhaps that was what Heavenly Father meant the Sabbath to be.

And yes, I do see more kolaches in my future ;)