Daily Prompt: Sympathy (Keep it!)

Sympathy

Sympathy: caring and understanding for the suffering of other

Don’t tell me you have sympathy for me as a mother who has saved her child’s life a hand full of times. Don’t tell me you have sympathy for me when you hear I gave him CPR today or we made it through another seizure.

Don’t tell me how you could never do what I do.

You cannot imagine my feelings or what is going through my head while I gave him CPR – How I cried and prayed he wouldn’t die in my hands. How I screamed for the paramedics to hurry up. You cannot imagine how I felt.

I hope you never know how it felt.

Keep your sympathy, give me your heart. Give me your silence so I know you are listening. Give me your time so I know you care. Give me your prayers so I know you love me. Give me your patience when I don’t return your calls. Give me your love when I am angry.

But please don’t give me your sympathy.

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Anxiety got me like WTF?!?!

Anxiety just creeps up on me like a bad wedgy. One minute I’m happily dropping my son off at school next minute I’m running scenarios in my head about the things that COULD happen to him after I leave.

School nurses that show up 2 hours late and seem to think nothing of it are assholes.

My son goes to school with oxygen and a nurse is usually there to keep an eye on things. She needs to make sure the tank is full, that he is breathing ok, that he takes breaks when needed and that his oxygen concentrator battery doesn’t run out.

It’s not that hard.

So when a nurse arrives 2 hours late and manages to let the battery on his oxygen run out during her shift – the main job she has – I get angry. Anger is usually my first emotion. The program teaches me that anger stems from fear or hurt.  I have to ask myself why I am angry. I am angry because the nurse isn’t doing her job! Which spirals me into the scenarios of what could happen if John doesn’t have his oxygen.

It’s a vicious cycle that I need to stop myself in the middle of and chant “Let it go, let it go”.

What I do have control over is whether that nurse comes back. I also have control over teaching the aides and teacher what to do if a nurse doesn’t do their job or doesn’t show up.

I have control of how I react to the situation.

Before I got sober I had 2 personalities; confrontational or isolation

Today, I still have multiple personalities but they come from a better place 🙂 I can pause and live in the solution, right after an anxiety attack. I can stop myself from letting the crazy committee in my mind take over and pray, right after the anxiety attack.

I don’t know if I will ever avoid that anxiety but at least I know I can get through it today with a little more grace and dignity then I did in the past.

Now I just need to pray we find a reliable nurse that cares enough to show up on time. And I will continue to be grateful for the amazing staff at his school that support us!

Daily Prompt: Elevate

via Daily Prompt: Elevate

Elevate

When I think of the word elevate I can break it down by my life’s era’s.

In the 80’s, this child could elevate into tantrums and anger in a split second.

In the 90’s, this business woman would elevate an issue to a manager if I wasn’t getting what I wanted.

In 2005, this mother elevated issues to Doctors and Nurse Practitioners if my son wasn’t receiving the care he needed.

In 2010, this woman’s life was elevated to a state of chaos, so badly I needed a program!

In 2017, when I hear the word elevate I think of elevating over my body in a state of meditation and peace of mind.

It’s amazing how life’s perspective changes over the years as we grow emotionally.

I hope I always remain teachable.

Quality Time, please?!

Quality time is so important to me.

I love spending quality time with my friends and family. When the time together isn’t forced and everyone really wants to be there, I feel loved.

I feel hurt when I schedule time with someone and they blow me. That tells me that my time is not important to them. It tells me that I am not important to them. Whatever they blew me off for is more important, whether its work or other people. This is with the exception of emergencies.

I really feel what you put out into the world, you get back in some form. Saturday, I had plans with someone I love and they blew me off. That night I was asked by two people if I would sponsor them. I spent the evening with a new sponsee talking about resentments and personal growth. We talked about owning our part in our story so we can learn and grow from it. Then we went for ice cream and laughed at her 7yr old son’s silly jokes.

The next day I was invited to lunch with a grammar school friend, which I accepted gratefully. Another friend invited me to a Jazz fest which I couldn’t attend because of work and sponsee commitments.

The universe if keeping me busy with people who want to spend time with me. Surrounding me with love the way I need to receive it, in quality time.

Thank you universal friends! Thank you HP for giving me the gift of friendship, sobriety and love!

What’s your love language?

Last night, I wrote a long resentful angry blog about my partner. I did not share it with anyone. Even last night in the midst of my anger I knew it was unfair and I was just venting. I am so grateful for my restraint of pen and tongue these days. Makes life so much more fun and full of gratitude.

This morning I read this blog:

https://12stepwork.com/2017/08/27/success-in-relationships/

Right after crying about feeling left out and unloved…

“… it’s not anybody else’s job to “make” me feel better or different… whenever I’ve left the job of “Make me happy!” up to someone or something else, it ends up causing me a lot of needless suffering… happiness is an inside job.” – Mike Stewart, Life Lover

What a great reminder. My marriage can be lonely sometimes. There is this site that talks about our “love Languages”.  How we show people that we love them. It’s hard when you are with someone that doesn’t speak your love language. You have to constantly remind yourself that you are enough and this is the way they show it.

http://www.5lovelanguages.com/

I took the test.

My results: Words of Affirmation

Actions don’t always speak louder than words. If this is your love language, unsolicited compliments mean the world to you. Hearing the words, “I love you,” are important – hearing the reasons behind that love sends your spirits skyward. Insults can leave you shattered and are not easily forgotten. Kind, encouraging, and positive words are truly life-giving.

The tight runner up being “Quality Time”.

I am pretty sure that my partners love language would for me would be:

His Results: Acts of Service

Can vacuuming the floors really be an expression of love? Absolutely! Anything you do to ease the burden of responsibilities weighing on an “Acts of Service” person will speak volumes. The words he or she most want to hear: “Let me do that for you.” Laziness, broken commitments, and making more work for them tell speakers of this language their feelings don’t matter. Finding ways to serve speaks volumes to the recipient of these acts.

He likes to fix things for me, build new things and cook. Just tonight I mentioned that I need a new shelf put up at the shop and his eyes lit up while saying “I’ll be by tomorrow to take a look” And he will be by, I guarantee it.

After 24 years together, I am not always happy. As I am sure he isn’t as well. The hardest part about marriage is growing emotionally together. When one person isn’t growing emotionally and the other is, it makes for a tough time. The person growing has to find ways to compliment themselves and feel good in the space they are in. I do this by going to meetings, meeting other woman that can help me grow and talking to other woman that may feel the same way. It lets me know I am not alone and that the negative feelings shall pass. Thank God those negative feelings pass, with the help of some friends.

Take the test, tell me what your love language is.

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What’s Next?

It’s been an autistic kind of day…

This morning John refused to talk to me unless we used the walkie-talkies. I enjoy when he does this because it encourages him to use proper sentences and good words. He keeps the volume so low on the walk-talkies that we can’t hear each other. However, we are standing right in front of each other. I believe the sound of the voice through the walkie-talkie causes a sensory issue so he keeps the volume low.

On the way out the door an older man walking a huge old German Shepard was walking by. John started chanting “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” over and over again. The man stopped and looked at us shocked. I quickly looked at him and said, “I’m sorry, he’s autistic, he’s just nervous”. The man gently said, “I can leave”. I said, “NO, we see you all the time, its ok. He has to be Ok”. All while John was chanting “Fuck”. The man said to John, “Hey John, this is my dog Jake”. John stops chanting and looks in their direction and says, “Jake, like Jake and the Neverland Pirates. Jake, Captain Hook, Mr. Smee, Sharky, Izzy and Skully.” The man responds, “Oh Skully, yeah I like X-Files, too”.  Next run in with Old man and Jake should go a little smoother.

We went to the last day of camp’s talent show at Indy Park. John is so well behaved at Indy it literally has me stumped. I have no clue why. Maybe because he loves it there so much. We spent an hour there listening to the team, greeting everyone and sitting watching the show. It was the quietest he has been all year so I really took advantage of talking to other adults without interruption. It was amazing!

As we were leaving it took everything in me not to cry before we got to the car. John loves this place but cannot attend because of his medical needs. They do not provide nurses and I can’t stay with him. I was sad because Special Olympics starts in September and he will not be there. I was sad because he is missing out on so many things that he loves, where he feels the most comfortable with the friends that make him feel normal and loved.

When we arrived home I let him eat “black” popcorn, didn’t feed him dinner and sat my depressed ass on the sofa. I was emotionally drained from having a good ugly cry in the car on the way home. John asked to go downstairs to play Wii. I was all for it, but didn’t follow him. I wanted to see if he could do it himself this time. He has seen me do it a million times.

I waited…I got lost in my phone…I waited a little more….got lost in my phone a little more and then popped up thinking he was way too quiet. Ill head down to see what’s up.

Scene: Our basement is small so the doors are pocket doors that slide into the wall. The bathroom door was half open with oxygen tubing trailing out. The smell of shit was in the air. I slowly peek in to find a few balls of shit on the floor, a little on the wall, all soaking in a pool of pee with his jeans and underwear laying on the floor soaked. John is sitting on the toilet humming and chanting “what’s next, Mommy?”, the question he has been asking all fucking day, while splashing his feet in the pee.

I managed to get it cleaned up while he sat on the toilet. I was amazed that he didn’t move off the toilet. I think he knew this wasn’t right and just wanted to sit there till it was gone. Kind of like what I want to do when I do something wrong….maybe it will just disappear?

All cleaned up, he jumps on the couch to play his Wii asking “what’s next?”  The bathroom is probably cleaner then when we first bought the house, BONUS!

My character defects like to creep in unintentionally. One of them is impatience and anger. Today, it didn’t’ happen. I only felt sadness. I feel like that is emotional progress…feel the feelings, walk through the fear, and keep the faith….

All day I have been listing off in my head the autistic quality’s that my son has.

The repetitive asking

The swearing

The need for a schedule

The lack of understanding of danger

He is intellectually disabled

He is beautiful, smart and so loving

Whats next blog

This is the face I love every day. It’s the face after the storm, after the hardship and after the madness. It’s the face of love and gratitude. He puts his head on my shoulder while patting my back saying “Gracias, mommy”. While we are just sitting there, after the storm. He puts on a hardy laugh while saying “I love you mommy”, just to see us laugh, after the storm. At bed, he asks one more time “What’s next?”, tonight the answer was “Tomorrow is Saturday, Chuckie Cheese because you earned it!”. He responds. “I earned it!” while his 12 year old body wiggles so hard with excitement.

#GoodNightSweetWorld

And tomorrow we will do it again…

To teach…or not to teach?

Recently, I have been thinking about going back to school for a degree in Early Education. Since I already have a Bachelors it wouldn’t take too long. I have always wanted to be a teacher. The hours and seasons would work perfect with my seasonal business selling froyo and with John.

Anytime I start thinking about changing careers, making life decisions or anything of that caliber I throw it out into the world. I start talking about it. I truly believe if you put it out there the answers will come. When I mention going back to school to be a teacher most people say, “You could be a Special Ed teacher!!”, like it’s the most exciting thing since sliced pie.

Um, NO!

It’s like a mechanic with a crappy car. He goes to work all day and doesn’t want to come home and take care of his car, too. Just because I have a special ed. child doesn’t mean I would make a great special ed. teacher.

I appreciate all the people that have taken on John and didn’t give up. He went through 5 schools before 6th grade. He had some amazing special ed. teachers and one crappy special ed. teacher (She’s a whole other blog post). But, I don’t think I could do it. I get a real high off of watching kids do “normal” or “typical” things like color, eat, talk, play and breathe. It makes me so happy when kids play using their imagination or when they interact with other children. I would love to be the person to facilitate all this normal behavior. I would also love to be the person to mold these “typical” children into kind, smart productive high schoolers.

So this is me putting it out there, again. I am still on the fence. My brain tells me I am crazy for taking on all this extra work, my heart tells me I could make a difference. I let myself think too much about it and the committee in my head can be a tough committee, not always supportive. I find the most real support, whether it’s for or against, from the real woman in my life. They are the most honest! Sometimes they see things in me that I don’t see, good and bad. When they are brought to the forefront I can recognize the good and work on the bad.

Love my amazing tribe of supportive woman!