Post Script to Take Back Your Life

There's one other thing that I forgot to add to the post last night.  If you're in a relationship and you experience a lot of fear, then that is a huge red flag.  Fear comes in a lot of forms, but the fear that I'm talking about are these kinds of fears, specifically:

1) You're afraid to talk about how you really feel.  If you don't feel like you can talk to your spouse/significant other/family member about your true feelings regarding their behavior/a situation/your opinion, then that is a problem.  Real relationships are built on love and respect, as in a person can lovingly or respectfully disagree with you.  But if they get angry when you speak your  mind, look out.

2) You're afraid to draw boundaries. If you're uncomfortable with something that they're doing, you should be able to speak up and say, Hey, can you stop or Hey, I don't really like that, it scares me/hurts me/makes me uncomfortable.  If they get angry at you for drawing a boundary, again, you have a serious problem on your hands.  Someone who really loves you won't continue behavior that makes you sad or hurts you.  Someone who likes to control you will get angry at you for "breaking the rules" or "stepping out of line".

3) You're afraid of making a mistake.  This can be any "mistake".  You forgot the milk at the store, and you are petrified because you know they're going to get mad. You didn't iron his shirt right, or fold it correctly.  You drove your car too far.  You didn't clean the house properly.  It can be anything that makes you nervous/anxious/worried about potential fallout and anger directed at you. That is no way to live.

There is a wonderful book that I love.  It's called "The Gift of Fear" by Gavin de Becker.  This book talks about how fear can be an intuitive tool that tells you things about yourself and other people.  I also recommend practicing a little mindfulness.  If you find yourself feeling this way, stop for a moment and really examine why you feel like that.  Then ask yourself if you would make your best friend feel the way you are feeling right in that moment.  If the answer is no, that you would never treat anyone like that, then ask yourself why you feel you deserve to be treated that way.

Take Back Your Life

I deviate from the subject of Logan tonight after a conversation with a close friend. 

Every now and then I like to revisit this one particular subject, because it's near and dear to my heart.  It amazes me that in the year 2016, women are still manipulated, abused, and treated like lesser creatures.

Do you know the signs of emotional abuse?  Could you recognize it if you were in an emotionally abusive relationship?  Some of the signs are really obvious:  if someone is in your face, yelling and screaming and telling you how worthless you are, then obviously, you are in that type of relationship.  Some of the other signs are more subtle, and because they don't all happen at once, or they may not occur every day, it's easy to let them go, make excuses for abuser.  So, here are the signs.  I get this list from http://liveboldandbloom.com/11/relationships/signs-of-emotional-abuse, but you can find similar lists on other sites that deal with abuse.  I'm not going to list all of them here, but the major ones are pretty good indications that you need to examine your relationship more closely:

1) You are too sensitive!!  They will say this if you have a problem with something they've said.

2) They will try to control the money.

3) Apologies?  Please.  They will never apologize for anything they've said or done, and if they do, it may be sarcastic, or they may turn the tables on you and try to make you feel like it's your fault.  They are incapable of owning any wrong they've done.  It's much more comfortable for them to use you as a scapegoat, because admitting that they've done wrong destroys the image they have of themselves.

4) They make fun of your goals and dreams.  Do you get excited about something, and try to share it with them?  Do they immediately shoot it down, or tell you why it's a bad idea, or poke holes in your logic on purpose?  Do they have problems sharing your enthusiasm about anything?  

5) Sarcasm is the by-word.  Don't get me wrong, some people are sarcastic by nature, or cynical, and that's just their nature.  But if they use it on you often, especially in order to make you feel stupid, then that's a problem.

6) There's a lot wrong with you.  At least in their estimation.  They like to point out your flaws, correct your behavior and even your moods, bring up past mistakes over and over so that you can continue to feel guilty, or otherwise treat you as if you are a child.  

7) They are uncomfortable with any negative emotions that you may express.  In other words, you're not allowed to ever be angry with them, but they can express anger at you.  And if you're depressed?  They may tolerate it for a little while, or make fun of it, or tell you it's time to "stop".

8) They will embarrass you in front of other people.  For real.

9) Sometimes, they're nice.  It keeps you off-balance, right?

10) They cannot tolerate criticism.  Try to point out something they're doing to you, and they will come back with ten things you did to them, as if this justifies their behavior.

Does this sound like your relationship?  Then I am going to also tell you this:

There is nothing wrong with you.  At all.  

So why don't you leave?  Why don't the thousands of women trapped in these relationships leave?

Because there are kids involved.

Because he might change.

Because you deserve it.

Because you might not find anyone else, ever again.

You can probably find a million reasons, right?  Because change is scary.  Standing up for yourself is scary.

So I am also going to tell you this:  You don't deserve this.  You are a daughter of God.  Take back your life.  Even if it means all you've got is the clothes on your back, get out of there, leave, make a new life, go to the police if you need to.  Just get out of it.  And live.  Free.

National Domestic Violence Hotline:  1-800-799-SAFE (7233) 

A picture I took of Logan in the woods near our home last summer.  That was the summer that we we discovered new swimming holes, went to the natatorium, and found hidden places...how much can change in a year...

I have nothing to say tonight except that I finally went to see "Finding Dory" and really could have used about fifty boxes of Kleenex.  I will probably never, ever watch it again.

Always the Storm

I'm working on the calm part.  Sort of.

One of These Days

My dad hated the beach.  Whenever the hot weather hit, his skin seemed to automatically turn red, if not from being out in the sun, then from the irritation of being uncomfortable during his least favorite season.  This is why we vacationed in the mountains every year.  Don't get me wrong, I loved it.  Those summer vacations are childhood treasures that I'll always appreciate and never let go of.

But I'm the opposite of Dad.  I love the beach.  I love the ocean.  If you were to ask me what, in particular, draws me to it, I could never give you a specific answer.  The tides, maybe?  The moon, at night?  The smell, or the possibility of finding something in the sand.  Or maybe just the knowledge that the water is teeming with life.  

Today is a day when I miss the beach.  I wish I was there, with my toes in the sand.  The one time in my life when I felt completely and utterly at peace, besides being in a temple, was on a beach in Playa Del Carmen.  I had nowhere to be and no obligation to fulfill that day.  I just had a chair, and the water, and the sand.  And that was enough for me, in that moment.

One of these days, when life calms down again, when things aren't so crazy and hectic, I'll pack a suitcase, and start exploring.  One of these days.

Black Nights

 

(image from fastweb.com)

It will be a little while before an appropriate place is found for Logan.  The group home process can take months or weeks, depending on what's available.  Group homes for children have a small staff to child ratio.  Generally, they look for a three or four bedroom home.  The home is staffed by staff that work eight hour shifts, and who are familiar with dealing with children like Logan.

Just so you know, none of this makes me feel better.  What we are choosing to do goes against biology.  It goes against instinct.  It goes against everything that is ingrained in you as a parent.  I have prayed about it over and over again and gotten the answer that this is what Logan needs at this time.  At night, I have the hardest time.  When I'm tired, and I finally have time to sit down and ruminate about the day, and about what obligations I need to fulfill the next day, it's easy to get overwhelmed and give in to despair.  There is really no other way to describe it.  There are some nights, like tonight, when I am okay and I can think analytically about what needs to be done, when I can consider not just the fact that he is my child, but that my other children have been affected by years of dealing with this, and I understand that the choice is in everyone's best interest.  But then there are other nights, that are just really...black.

Last night was a black night.

Black nights, friends, involve a lot of crying behind closed doors and basically just freaking out when I can be by myself.  Black nights involve trying to bargain with God, even when you know the answer, and black nights involve a lot of insecurity.  I hate those kinds of nights.

Black nights also involve me telling God:  You need to give me some more reassurance, because I can't.  I just can't.

And you know what?  He does.  My testimony of God as a loving Father has grown immensely in the last few weeks.  The first time I asked him for the kind of reassurance I needed, a friend wrote to me who I hadn't heard from for years and said, You are doing the right thing. I am in a similar situation.

And this time, a dear, wonderful friend called me and pointed out that although people may have differing opinions on this situation, myself and my husband are Logan's parents and  parents receive insight and inspiration for their children that other people can't receive.  In other words, this situation is between us, Logan, and Heavenly Father.  No one else can solve it, no one else can tell us what's right to do, because we are the ones that have been given this to work through.

And I'm really glad she called me, because until she did, I wasn't thinking of it in this way.  I love her.  She's always been a great example to me and if she's reading this, I want her to know that her phone call today was like the sun coming out for me.

I've had many other people call me just to ask how I'm doing, how Logan is, how is the family, I had a wonderful family bring us a meal the other day, and I think, that of all the places on earth, I would not want to be anywhere but here.

I know, because of this, because of the things I've experienced personally, that Heavenly Father is VERY aware of us.  And He is not only aware, He cares.  He is very concerned about his earthly children and the different trials that we have to face while we're here, and I know that He is not just an impersonal immortal, presiding over His latest creation, He is our true and everlasting Father.  He loves us, and He wants what's best for us.  What's best may not be our ideal, and what's best may be uncomfortable or we may even perceive it as undesirable, but He has a more eternal perspective than we do, and I am learning that, slowly, as time goes on.

Who Knew?

 

I'm a little strange.  I love spiders.

Black widows, in particular, are kind of elegant.  

So tonight I was reading my very densely packed textbook on psychopharm and there is an entire chapter devoted to the neurotransmitter acetylcholine (ACh).  Turns out ACh has a lot to do with muscular activity, and if a little critter gets bitten by a black widow spider, a toxin contained in the widow's venom actually causes a huge release of ACh into the peripheral nervous system.  Anytime ACh gets out of balance with DA (dopamine), chaos will ensue and your body will experience paralysis, or convulsions, sweating, uncontrollable bowel movements, etc.  

But we, as humans, don't generally experience this when we're bitten by black widows.  What really got me, in reading all of this tonight, was the sentence that said, "Ounce for ounce, black widow venom is 15 times more toxic than prairie rattlesnake venom" (Meyer and Quenzer, 2013, p. 187).

It's just that the spider is so small that it can't have a large effect on a human.  Lucky us, right?

 

My eyes are open wide;

By the way, I made it through the day.

-Shinedown, Second Chances

DA is for Dopamine

 

I'm taking this psychopharmacology class and it is driving me bonkers.  First of all, it was a stupid thing to do, to sign up for a class so heavily laden with chemistry for such a short term.

The other reason that it's driving me bonkers is because it's creating a whole new realm of questions in my head.  When I registered for this class, I had a very simplistic view of what it would be.  I thought, Oh, it will be "this drug does that, and that drug does this"  but that is NOT what this class is about.

This class is about:  These chemicals are neurotransmitters, and this is how reuptake works, and this is what dopamine does, and this is the actual process for how a neurotransmitter gets into and out of a vesicle, and this is a secondary messenger.  Oh, and let's also talk about knock out mice and transgenic mice, and what happens to them when you give them Huntington's disease and how that compares with wild-type mice who don't possess that gene.

As I read about all these intricate, wonderful processes that go on in our brains, I can't help but question what is happening in Logan's brain.  Maybe this isn't working right?  Maybe he doesn't have enough of this neurotransmitter?  Maybe these synapses aren't firing?  Maybe this other thing isn't working?  He's had an MRI, and his structure is fine, so it must be the process. The process isn't working.

And clearly, I don't know enough. None of us do.

Psychology, as much as it is my passion, is still very much in the dark ages.  We take a set of behaviors, and we observe if they cause impairment in functioning. We label the behaviors. And then we have a syndrome.  But we still cannot point to any mental disorder and say, Aha!  There!  That, specifically, is what causes depression!  Or mania!  Or schizophrenia! And the reason we can't do that is because while biology plays a role in any disorder we might develop, so does environment, and environment is not uniform across the human species.

It wasn't so very long ago that those with an mental illness were warehoused in asylums, lobotomized, given malaria (on purpose, to induce a fever), or sterilized against their will (because hey, we don't want to pass on those genes, right?) We've made enormous strides in the field since then, and coupled with neurology, and neuropsychology, and other sub fields, we can say that we know so much more than we did.

But we still don't know enough.

And I feel frustrated, because it took me so long to get here, it took me so long to understand that this is what I needed to do.  And if all I can do, at this stage of the game, is make people more aware, and educate people who might not have understood, then that's something, right?  That's a thing, right?

The Eternal Perspective

I had this friend once, who said he knew what my deepest fear was.

What is it?  I asked him.

And he said, Being alone.

At the time, I thought he was right, and maybe, for the person I was at that time, it was true.  But the last ten years have taught me how to be alone.  I'm a master at it; sometimes, even when you're married, there are things that you have to deal with on your own.  So, yes, I can be alone, it doesn't phase me...and just know that if you're in my life, it's because I want you there, not because I cannot function otherwise.

What I didn't consider, at the time of that conversation that took place so long ago, was that my deepest fear really was losing one my children.  And I guess I didn't think about it, because it was inconceivable to me.  If someone had come to me then, and said, guess what?  In a few years, you will have to make the decision to send your youngest son to live somewhere else, I would have punched them in the nose.

But here I am, making this decision.  My biggest fear has reared its ugly head.  I look at the situation I am in and I don't understand how I'm not a patient on the sixth floor also.

I go through the day and it has a surreal feel to it.  It feels like a nightmare that I'm trapped in.  Stress can do horrible things to people; it can make you physically ache, and it can make it hard to focus on anything.  Your thoughts feel scattered.  You wonder if anything will ever feel okay again, you wonder if you will ever be able to feel peace again, or feel happy.

There are also many people who may look at this situation and feel like it illustrates what they believe is a fundamental flaw in Christianity:  If God is so loving, and all-powerful, why does He allow such suffering?  Since He is God, and God can do anything, why doesn't He just heal Logan, or make Logan able to be at home?

Believe me, I have prayed for Logan to be healed.  It doesn't hurt to ask, right?  But it is not meant to be, in this life.  Logan is the way he is for a reason.  It would be easy for me to hide behind this trial, and make poor choices and blame it on the heartbreaking nature of what we are enduring.  It would be easy for me to go to bed, and pull the covers over my head, and shirk family responsibilities, or to stop trying.  I could use this situation as an excuse for so many things.  But I will not.  Everyone has trials in this life and it always flabbergasts me when I meet someone who thinks they are "owed" something:  respect, or love, or friendship, or money, or prestige, or material goods.  It would also be easy for me to look at other families and feel bitter:  Why do they get to be normal, and have "normal" children who do not have to suffer, when we don't?  Why is this happening to us?

Then I look at Logan and I do not understand why God entrusted him to me.

So, it would be easy to do all of these things:  to make excuses, to become bitter, to stay in bed, to make poor choices, but I am not a fan of the easy way.  The easy way does not promote growth, it does not show us who we are meant to be.  The easy way does not try our faith, it does not bring us closer to God.  The easy way sustains weak characters, and it encourages inaction.  The easy way is not for me.

My deepest fear has become a reality, and I am still here, still breathing, still dealing, and I will continue to do so. I think that Jeffrey R Holland said it best:

"We came to earth to face issues of mortality in the form of trials, temptations, disease, and death.  It is essential for us to face personal struggles because opposition is a crucial part of Father's plan. I suppose everybody will have some kind of an experience where they say, "I'm never going to be happy again."

Well, we are going to be happy again. That is also a part of the plan.  It's the very nature of it. Hang on and hope. Never lose faith in your Father in Heaven, who loves you more than you can comprehend. Never, ever doubt his love for you. Hold fast to the Atonement.  Believe in miracles. When you've done all you can do, endure to the end. And remember, hope is never lost. 

Broken minds can be healed just the way broken bones and broken hearts are healed. While God is at work making those repairs, the rest of us can help by being merciful, nonjudgmental, and kind."  
Logan's mind will not be healed in this life.  His life is taking the course it is for a reason.  But I have a solid eternal perspective, and I know that this is not permanent.  One day, in the next life, I will be able to make up for lost time with him, I will meet the Logan that is not impaired, I will meet the son who is lucid and aware.  This trial is huge, and it is scary, and we can allow it to turn us to God or to other, darker paths.  I choose God, and I will choose God, over and over again, no matter what.

"I will be the pattern of all patience"  -Shakespeare, King Lear, Act 3, Scene 2

The Process

A lot of people have expressed concern about Logan and asked where he is now, and what will happen next.

Right now, Logan is at a children's hospital.  The reason he is there was simply to remove him from a situation.  The hospital is not a long term solution, nor should it be.  Call it "crisis management", because that's what it is.

In order to place a child in a group home, you have to go through your local MH/MR organization.  You have a service coordinator.  The service coordinator gives you paperwork to fill out in order to find the best possible location for your child.

There are a lot of misconceptions about group homes.  People think that when you put your child in there, you don't have any say over what happens to them, that you will never see them again, or that sort of thing.

But that's not true.  We don't have to accept the first placement they come up with.  And we can see him any time we want to, take him out for outings, and eventually bring him home for visits.

I hope this clears up some confusion and eases some of the worry that people are experiencing.

Thank You

 

Since my post the other day about the decisions we are facing with Logan, I have received a tremendous outpouring of love and support from so many people.  I just want to say to everyone, thank you. Thank you so much for the tears you have shared with me, the offers of help, the prayers, the love that you have shown.  I knew that I was surrounded by amazing, wonderful people, and the past couple of days has been a true testimony to that belief.

God bless all of you.  I love you.

When you think all is forsaken

Listen to me now (all is not forsaken)

You need never feel broken again

Sometimes darkness can show you the light

-Disturbed, "The Light"

When You Have to Call the Crisis Hotline

A long time ago, when I first started this blog, I promised myself this would be an honest, unvarnished look at life on the spectrum.  From time to time, I depart from that and post about other things, out of boredom or from lack of any serious material.

Well, now I have some serious material.  And it needs to be written about.

All children with ASD are different.  Some function quite well and have very high IQs.  These are the children that people picture when they think of "autism".  Some of them do not function well, socially or academically.  They have mild to severe behavioral problems, some of them have physical problems, and some of them, when they hit puberty, become almost unmanageable.

This is who my sweet boy, Logan, is.

I cannot describe to you the pain of watching a child who you remember as a baby with soft, curling hair, grow into a tween who cannot control meltdowns that become so violent your other children must hide in their own bedrooms.  I can't tell you the number of times I have cried while trying to stop my own son from hurting himself, the frustration of calling agency after agency and doctor after doctor, only to be told, No, we cannot help.  I've written about the isolation that dealing with this creates; what I have not written about is the complete and utter heartbreak of hearing your own son say "I love you", and in the next twenty minutes dissolve into unintelligible screaming because you had to say the word "no".  I have been shoved, pulled on, hit, kicked, and scratched.  I have been screamed at.  I have been threatened.  I have watched my own son try to slap his own eyes out of his head because he cannot control what is going on in his brain.  I have held him in my arms while he screamed "I hate you Mommy!" over and over until he started to cry, and I looked at him and said, "You can't make yourself stop, can you?" And he cried and said, "No."

It is heartbreaking to watch your own child's mind become his own worse enemy.

Yesterday, we had an incident, here at our home.  It involved a screaming fit of epic proportions.  It involved a threat to the safety of my son and other family members.  And my husband and I concluded that we needed to call the crisis hotline at our local MHMR.

The crisis hotline is supposed to be your last line of defense when you are dealing with a mental health emergency.  Pecan Valley MHMR is supposed to send someone to your house to assess the situation, and if the person in question is a danger to themselves or others, they are supposed to find a place for that person to go.

A woman came out to our house and she was very concerned for us and for my son.  She called two hospitals that said no, they could not take him. The third one said they would.  We bathed and fed him and my husband drove to this hospital. He waited more than two hours, only to be told, We cannot take a child like him who has this type of diagnosis.  

So he had to bring him back home.  Before he did that, he called the crisis hotline again. The person on the phone was completely unhelpful, she said, oh, yeah, someone with an intellectual disability is probably not going to get help, so you need to just "call around" or go to an ER.

This morning, I started making phone calls.  The original person that came out to the house called me back and said, "I'm sorry, but I'm really uneducated about all of this." and went on to tell me there was nothing she could do.  I called every single resource and phone number and contact I had accumulated over the years.  No one would help us.  I wanted to scream at all of them:  WHAT PART OF HE IS GOING TO HURT HIMSELF OR SOMEONE ELSE DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND???????

I cannot describe the despair and utter darkness of feeling trapped, of knowing that your child is in dire need of medical attention, and having door after door shut in your face.  It leaves you in the darkest place, with the understanding that you are completely alone, that you have to fight this monster with the limited knowledge that you do have, knowing that something terrible may happen, and it will happen because no one recognized or cared about the urgency of your situation. You feel so hopeless, and helpless.

Then I made a phone call to set up some other appointments for him, because we have to keep going and keep trying,  and by a great, huge blessing from God, found a place for him to be admitted.

I won't comment here on the ineptness and complete disregard for my own son's safety and our safety that our local state agency displayed, because that is another post, and believe me, it will be written.  But I will explain that part of the problem that we, as parents of Logan, and that many other parents face, is that when many mental health hospitals hear the word "autism" they are done.  They will not treat it, and they especially will not treat it if it's complicated by a severe mood disorder like my son has.  Many hospitals use specific therapies such as group therapy and talk therapy to help disturbed children and adolescents sort out their feelings and understand their own emotions.  A child with an intellectual disability cannot be reached with this kind of therapy, so they will not treat him.  There are maybe two hospitals in the metroplex that will, and they are very limited on the space they have available.

I do want to tell everyone that has been involved with Logan's life up until this point:  God bless you. I thank God that I am surrounded by you.  Logan has been blessed by you.  We are tired, we are exhausted. and we now have to consider that the best option for him is to be placed somewhere that he can function and flourish.  He cannot do this at home any longer.  This is a hard thing to write and a hard thing to admit.  It's a truth that I have avoided, for such a long time.  There is a part of me that feels like such a failure as a parent.  I go over and over it in my head:  how I could have done this differently, or chosen that path, but I know that I fought as hard as I could for him.  I have exhausted every resource that was available to us.  It is now doing Logan more harm than good to be in this environment, and he needs to be with professional caregivers who can direct his behavior and create a safe, structured environment that is conducive to him learning appropriate behaviors.  If we do not choose this for Logan, he will, without a doubt, become a news story, or eventually, the ability for us to choose what happens to him will not be an option for us anymore. This is painful, and it is going to be painful, for a very long time.  I have held onto him so tightly, for so many years.  It is not my choice, any longer. At some point, when you have fought and fought and done everything you can do, you have to let God take over.  And I know, without any doubt in my heart, that He is very aware of Logan, that Logan is being looked after by Him, and that He has a plan for him.

Pretty simple, right?  Oh, and read a bunch of good books.  And get a couple of degrees. And sleep.

I love David A. Bednar.  He always gives great talks during conference.

I forget this sometimes, what he says.  People who wear their hearts on their sleeves sometimes think with it too...and that gets us into trouble.

Happy Friday, everyone.  Enjoy your weekend!

It Must Be Summer

Wet footprints and mud on the floor?  check.

Dirty dishes in the sink that reappear almost as soon as we wash them?  check.

Random toys washed up against the wall like detritus from a Toys R Us shipwreck?  Check, check,.

Am I tired and didn't get enough sleep last night?  Yes, check.

Is there an empty sno-cone container in the minivan?  Probably.  Check.

Is there a teenager still asleep in her bed at noon?  Yes.  Check.

Are there piles of dirty laundry in the bathroom that reappear like the dirty dishes do?  Oh, yes.  check.

It must be summer.

Above the Clouds

Last night I went to yoga, even though I didn't want to.  I made myself get ready and walk out the door.

Everyone thinks that yoga is supposed to be about light and happiness, but it's not always like that.  Sometimes, as I'm going through all the poses, my mind wanders, and where it wanders to is very telling.    The room is quiet except for the music they play. There is no talking, and a lot of times it's so still that you can hear everyone breathing.  In a sense, because you're so focused on what you're doing, you become alone in a room full of people, and your thoughts become bigger than you.  The biggest issues in your life, or perhaps the ones you've been avoiding, are suddenly center stage in your brain, demanding that you look at them.

It's been a depressing few weeks (months?) in my life.  When you are continually faced with challenges, it's easy to lose perspective.

At the end of our session, we always go into savasana.  And during savasana our instructor always creates some sort of imagery.  This time she asked us to picture the most beautiful blue sky we'd ever seen.  I can't pinpoint one single time I saw the "most beautiful blue sky", but I thought of the time I went to Playa del Carmen in Mexico. I thought of my wedding day.  I thought of wandering through a cemetery, once upon a time. I thought of driving to Wichita Falls to visit my son in the hospital...the sky was always bluer there.  So I pictured all of those.

And she talked about how sometimes even when the sky is cloudy, airplanes are able to rise and fly above the clouds and find the blue again.

It occurred to me that for a long time, I've been worrying far too much about things that I have no control over, and investing so much emotional energy into things that don't do anything for me except bring stress and heartache.  As she talked about flying above the clouds, I realized that I didn't have to worry about all that stuff anymore.

Life is like a bank account.  No, more than a bank account.  Life is an entire portfolio.  We have a finite amount of time to spend here, on this earth.  Some people waste their time like some people waste money, investing in things that are temporary, putting their money into ventures that don't have a great return.  Some people spend their time doing things that don't make them happy, because they feel like that's what they're "supposed" to do, or it's what's "expected".  They end up miserable, longing for something else.  And some people invest in the wrong people. They try so hard to be in this group or that group, because they think that's where they belong, and their self-worth depends entirely on the acceptance of these people. Some people give too much, and they become emotionally overdrawn.  Some people don't give enough.  And they develop a miserly, scrooge-like persona that isn't conducive to healthy relationships. Some people pick a stock because it looks good, or it's been packaged well, but then it turns out to be a dud, and they lose. The reality is that love shouldn't be so hard.  Friendship shouldn't be so hard.  Good investors don't buy a stock and then pound their fists on the table, shouting, "Perform, damn you!"  They know what they've got going into the deal.  They know what to expect (most of the time).

Here's to doing what's best for yourself, investing in what makes you happy, and building strong relationships with the people who really love you.

Why shouldn't you buy flowers from a monk?

Because only you can prevent florist friars!

Happy Thursday!

Sean Connery in "The Name of the Rose"

Confessions of Moms with Special Needs Children

image from http://www.zippi.co.uk/thestudio/creating-art-using-roy-lichtenstein-art-techniques/  Roy Lichtenstein

There are a lot of things we never tell people.  We keep a lot of things hidden, either out of fear of being judged or because we don't think people can relate.  I'm talking about moms who have special needs children, of course.  So here is my confession:

I'm a member of the group "At Home" on Facebook.  Basically, it's a group of women from all over the US, who share their personal decorating ideas that they use in their own homes.  After joining this group, I figured out that there was a disparity between these women and myself.  The first time I read through some of the posts, this is what I came across:

Woman posts picture of two tiles sitting on a counter.  Woman asks the question:  Help!  Need to decide which one to use for kitchen back splash!  Have no idea, need to decide by this weekend or Hubby will choose for me!  Need advice!

or, Woman posts picture of side table with a display on it.  Woman asks this question:  Is this too much?  Do I need to take away the flowers?  Should I add a giant letter Q?  What do you think of the color? So unsure!

And the disparity I discovered was that while I enjoyed reading this stuff and seeing what people came up with, I couldn't relate to it at all.  I would read these posts, and I would think, I wish the biggest thing I had to worry about was which tile to use for a back splash or whether or not a picture is centered on a wall. These issues seemed to consume these women to the point that they needed to post about it on Facebook.  I couldn't understand it at all, because my life has not been like that for such a long, long time.  

I've talked to other moms with special needs children and they have similar issues.  Some of them get angry, when they hear people complain about their neurotypical children.  Some of them get jealous when they see families out together, having a good time, able to enjoy outings that are pretty much shuttered to us.  Some of them have children who are violent, and they have to lock up anything that can be used as a weapon (I'm not making this up.) Some of them struggle with negative feelings towards their own special needs children, because having that child has changed their lives so profoundly, in sometimes negative ways.  And some of them are so angry and depressed that they self-medicate with shopping, alcohol, food, anything to take the loneliness and pain away.

I think this is something that never gets talked about, because moms like us are often labeled as "superwomen".  People shake their heads at us and say, I could never do what you do.  I really believe that anyone could, if it was their own child, but that's not the point.  These same people who call us "superwomen" or "wonder women" don't know how lonely we are and how isolated we feel, they don't know how often we lock ourselves in the bathroom and just cry, because we've had a really hard day with our kid, and they don't know that we can remember what "normal" was like, before autism came along and changed our family dynamic forever.

This may seem like a really negative spin on the situation, and also very dark, so I want you to understand that of course we know that it's not always like this.  We do have friends.  I'm fortunate enough to be surrounded by really supportive family members and an amazing church family who offers help all the time, and I'm really thankful for that.  What I'm trying to say is that not every woman has this.  Some women who deal with this situation are completely alone; they do not have any family members that are capable of understanding or offering help, and most of their friends have disappeared into the woodwork.  

So, if you're a mom, and you have a child with special needs, and you're reading this, know that you are not alone, that there is a whole army of us out there doing what you are doing, feeling what you are feeling, and experiencing the same thing that you are.  You're not by yourself, you can reach out to me on this blog, you can shoot me an email at rachstogner@gmail.com, or find me at alltogethercleburne.org.

 

The snarky side of me wants to say, "But only if the space-time continuum has been ruptured, and then, you need to exercise extreme caution because no two objects can occupy the same space at the same time, and if you literally run into yourself, you could destroy yourself, or the entire timeline, then mankind as we know it would devolve into mass hysteria, dogs and cats living together, that sort of thing."

I need to go to bed now. 

One Day

 

When my husband and I first got married, we found this broken down little house in Fort Worth.  I instantly fell in love with it.  I don't know why I love old, broken things. I guess I imagine too much what they can be like when they're whole again.

But this house was perfect for a pair of newly-weds and we spent months making it exactly right.  We even put in a jetted tub.  (I miss that tub!!!)  I also miss that neighborhood.  It wasn't the best neighborhood; it was full of small, older homes. But the great thing about it was that it took us less than ten minutes to get to downtown Fort Worth and about the same amount of time to get to the Hulen area.  

There was an area, on the edge of the neighborhood, that had a lot of trees and a field, and a couple had bought a house on the edge of it and fixed it up in this really cute, Bohemian way.  One day, as I was driving home (in our black Toyota Celica, which I also miss terribly), I saw a peacock in that field with its feathers all spread out.  I was instantly in love.  

I'm not a huge bird lover, but this is my favorite bird, besides an owl.  I've looked into getting one, but they are very loud, very territorial, and they require a mate so that they won't fly away. They can also be aggressive and challenge their owners.  But I want one anyway.  I'm stubborn like that, I guess.