Grief does some unusual things to people. But grief I feel is very similar to depression, it doesn't discriminate and it certainly doesn't mean everyone will feel the same way.
My mum bravely lost the fight to cancer on March 15th with those who loved her most by her side. As respect to her and my brother I will not be going into detail about that day and what we endured but I will tell you how this event has changed me and almost merged me into a different person.
I sat there most of that day with thoughts of coming and going in my head of I don't know if I want to be in the room when it happens. But it got to the point so late in the night that I was asking for my pillow from home, my kindle and book. I had decided I was going to read my mum some naughty paragraphs from a book and hopefully send her peacefully away with some "erotic" thoughts LOL.
Subconsciously I knew through the whole day I wouldn't be leaving her side.
People describe birth as one of the most rewarding events to be at - to see a life being brought into this world screaming and crying. And ultimately for me, after having three children of my own - yes it was the most rewarding and beautiful event in my life. Being with my mum in the those last hours, minutes and seconds I have never felt so much love, joy and sorrow all at once. We aren't saying hello, but finally saying our goodbyes. And yes it was sad, one of those most saddest parts of my life. It was also the hardest... but stroking her hand and telling her Dad was there waiting for her and to go with him filled my heart with so much pride.
Pride that I was loved so deeply, cared for so lovingly and cherished by a women who was not only my mum, but my best friend.
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Three weeks have passed and I still find it hard to answer people who ask if I am OK. Or when people who see me pass on their condolences, I don't know what to say. How to act - because grief is still a big part of my day right now. I don't know how many times I have gone to call my mum and ask for advice and to have a chin wag. I miss hearing her voice, her reassurance that everything will be OK. Her warmth in the way she knew what I needed to hear. Not being able to walk into her house and see her sitting there.
Facebook holds the most hardest parts, because occasionally a memory will pop up, and her name appears. Sometimes I smile, sometimes I just want to remove the memory so I can't feel the pain. I am not ready to remove the account, but know I need to. It's selfish of me to keep her on there. As for her contact in my phone - that one I don't know how long it will remain.
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The past few weeks I have really struggled to identify with myself in this world. Who I am, where I want to be and where I want to go. I have always struggled to find my groove and find my love and passion. And this is where I would call my mum and ask for that advice and because I can't do that, I am forever in my brain churning thoughts and over thinking every little process in my life.
I don't know what I want to do anymore!!!!!
I don't know who I am besides a mum and wife.
I have lost my passion for everything and my drive to get there. I thought I knew what I wanted, but I don't think I ever truly did. I think I wanted what I wanted because I thought that was the only way I could be happy. But realising and being reminded with the way I was raised I was only on that path to keep up with the pretense. I don't want a lavish lifestyle and the fancy things. I don't know why I ever thought I did! I certainly wasn't raised that way and I am certainly not raising my children to be like that, so why do I feel the pull to want and need things.
I always thought a career would bring me happiness. Wanting a career is only making me stressed and making me stressed isn't making me the mum I want to be! I want to be like my mum. A mum who hardly gave a shit and was the most stress free woman I had ever met.
I want to find a job I love! A job where I can come home and still be me and let my kids see their mum happy. I haven't been happy for a very long time and that's because I am striving for a future I just won't see.
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Grief is still consuming me and how I feel and that is OK. Grief acts differently for all of us.
Grief is also making me question who I am. Not only as a person but as a Mum.
Saturday, 6 April 2019
Friday, 8 March 2019
Feeling of accomplishment...
We have three children and in the past I haven't mentioned their names - but I am hopeless at the best of times remember to call them by their real names, typing under a ghost name for them is just even harder. Actually, would probably mean that I end up calling them by their alias and then I will get some strange looks for sure!
So let me introduce them - Hannah who is 11. She's our rainbow baby (not so much anymore I suppose). She took a while to come into our lives and after miscarriages she decided she wanted to be the sticky one and bless us with her presence back in 2008. Mackenzie who was a little surprise, we weren't actively trying but not actively stopping. She was born in 2009, so there is only 17 months between her and Hannah. She is a ball of fire when she wants to be! She's confidence in her skin and who she is but has a lot of emotional regulation issues going on. She has high functioning autism and her emotional side has always been our biggest challenge with her.
Then there is Jacob, our little Whoops! But he is by far the best whoops we could ever imagine. He came 3 years earlier than planned haha! Wouldn't change it for the world and to be honest I don't think I could see myself with a 3 year old right now in my life!
And this post is about him - just him. I want people to understand how challenging and rewarding having a second child on the spectrum can be. How long it came to get that diagnosis and why I push for parents to never doubt their intuition about their child - no matter how many people say otherwise.
Jacob was born 4 days over his due date - a lovely 4kg of pure happiness and joy. He was a gorgeous happy little boy. He loved to dance (shuffle) to music, play with his toys without the constant need for someone in the room and was always that little baby who would chat the ear of a stranger! He slept like a log and was the one that just slipped into his own routine. He was always such a little babbler and had a very good vocab for his age. But at 20 months he still wasn't walking...
They don't really worry too much if they're not walking unassisted before 2 years of age. But he was getting close. We put it down to him just being stubborn! And he was a stubborn toddler - but before we were placed on a waiting list to talk to a professional at 21/22 months of age he decided to just get up and walk. And because he was such a late walker - he hardly fell over. So I just pushed those intuitive thoughts aside, just a bit.
But then things slowly started to change in the way he developed. He was still a happy little boy, but his vocab took a backseat while his body worked hard on catching up on gross motor skills. He became more clingy and sooky but being nearly 2 we just put it down to toddler stage. Mackenzie at this stage had just received her official diagnosis of ASD, but never thought to look more closely at Jacob's behaviours mainly due to his age.
Toilet training was a nightmare! By 3 he still wasn't trained and because of council regulations enrolling him into 3 year old kinder wasn't going to happen because they like them to be trained. Otherwise it would mean trips to kinder for nappy changes. He was suffering horrible separation anxiety and it was more obvious that it was more than just normal anxiety. He hated change to his routine and if something was out of place he would have a tantrum. I was watching him closely and at around 3.5 I was very concerned with his gross motor development and anxiety.
- He still hated play equipment, so we avoided parks
- He wouldn't attempt to ride a tricycle
- Hated painting or getting his hands dirty
- Separation Anxiety was getting worse
- He would avoid using stairs because of his gross motor issues
She red-flagged it as a meltdown... Now bear in mind you would think I would know what a meltdown was because of Mackenzie. But their meltdowns are very different in the way they react. I had no idea. And the more and more I thought back to his past tantrums I realised they were characteristically more meltdowns.
I started the ball rolling of getting him diagnosed privately and using a govt. funded program to help with his Gross Motor set up through the council. I wish I had pushed harder at this stage.
His OT through the agency was to say the least, useless. I voiced my concerns and she stated and I quote "he does not have Autism. He has separation anxiety with gross motor delay of about 2 years. He is not having meltdowns because I have not seen him have one and he will talk to me about his animals quite happily. You need to adjust how you parent him and use visuals to guide him." After nearly 6 months of using her and appointments for an hour of her sitting at my dining table but never interacting with him, I had enough and ceased the visits. I was also seeing the same psych who diagnosed Mackenzie... after doing the questionnaire I was informed that she could not official diagnose him because he and I quote again, "gave eye contact and was happy enough to discuss his animals with me".
I left both those professionals feeling deflated. He hadn't improved, his gross motor was getting worse and his meltdowns were increasing. He was now also becoming fixated (I wonder if you know) with Animals. And considering two professionals noted his keen interest and almost obsession with animals - they didn't see it as a red flag.
A couple of years went past, he did kinder and whilst they never saw issues (I think this helped due to a very small group and great teachers) he was still struggling. I was at breaking point because it felt like no one was listening at all! Except for one mum, who said to me. You know him, get a second opinion. ASD is NOT the same in every child. She suggested a paediatrician so I went home and placed him on the waiting list. I stated back with a private OT who was beyond awesome and a different psych who worked closely with him and understood him. Because of past dealings I still thought he just had anxiety, gross motor delay and now added SPD.
Primary School starts - and the first day is a wipe out. The joy as a mum watching your child go to school and especially your last was gone. He had made himself sick through the night worried about school. I was beyond being able to keep myself together and we broke down together. It was hard. I had failed him as a mum - I should of pushed harder and harder one those first two "professionals" who would always shut me down. His teacher and school were amazing and I do not regret for one minute moving the girls at this stage. We worked closely together and he finally started going. We did a couple of half days and slowly he got into a sync... we had moments where he was anxious but we helped him along....
Finally in April (approx) of 2018 we saw the new paed. I walk in and instantly feel at ease he has this sense of calmness about him. He takes one look at me and Jacob and asks how long? And I tell him everything. By the end of it I am exhausted because I have told the story so many times... and he says he believes me and that it's time to get the help we need. He pushed quickly because a diagnosis before 6 would mean getting funding. I cried then and there and he just patted my hand and said it will work out...
His psych who knew my background and Jacob's started the assessment within a week we had a diagnosis... hearing that report still makes me tear up. The way they diagnose ASD had changed since his first attempt - and maybe that's why it was never picked up. Officially in his report was a lack of eye contact (ironically) and the inability to maintain a back/forward conversation. And also the inability to start one and play in a group setting (of taking turns). The behaviours he had shown during the few months we had been seeing her were also reported and it felt like everything had finally be lifted. I wasn't failing him as a mum - I was advocating for him. He was officially diagnosed with High Functioning Autism with SPD and Gross Motor Delay two weeks before his 6th birthday!
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Nearly a year on and the reason I went through all that I want to write how my heart swelled today leaving him at school. We were so worried about the transition back to school would be, especially after 6 weeks off. He was nervous the first day, but after picking him up he sounded already like a different little boy.
The school introduced composites for 1/2 this year and I walked in with an open mind and knew that logistically they had no other choice. I knew a few were unsure and this is another reason why I wanted to write this out. Trust that your school and your teachers know what they're doing when you may think otherwise... Jacob has flourished in the past 6 weeks and I put it down to the fact he is in a grade with boys a year older. He has friends (not saying he didn't before LOL), but friends he WANTS to outside and play with, friends where he wants Mummy to quickly drop him off so he can play outside quickly in the morning, friends that make him talk too much that he needs to move seats (LOL, this one made my heart warm because while it may make some groan, it was a moment that made me realise he's going to be just fine)... he has friends that come up so quickly to him and he wants to engage in their interests, play in dirt, run around, play ball and be a little boy.
It is all I ever wanted for Jacob - to have that connection with people. Being able to discuss their interests without changing to his or feeling the need to walk away.
We still have our moments but the moments are getting less frequent and he wants to go to school and not miss out on seeing his friends. His interests have changed to Basketball but now I just say that Mummy has heard enough please just let me have a break for a bit. And he understands... But the husband does encourage the obsession LOL but they have something together so I can't be that mad about it all.
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The other day another boy called Jacob fat - and no I didn't go all mummy bear on the school LOL. I know his teacher and it was dealt with swiftly, but for a few days you could see that little anxious clock ticking - he said he wanted to work out more because he was fat.
And this is where this current blog ties in with all my other ones. Body acceptance needs to be taught at a young age. Jacob has struggled with his gross motor for so long that he hated physical activity. He is changing now as the anxiety isn't as strong. But he is always going to be that more slightly behind. His size doesn't determine who he is as a person or who he will be when he is older.
But for now this Mumma Bear is proud of her little guy for pushing those boundaries and never giving up.
And a note for other Mum's questioning whether to push for that second opinion... do it. Don't question yourself over your intuition as their mum. You're their voice and advocate when they can't do it for themselves.
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Thursday, 7 March 2019
I am banning the word diet...
Well, I am going to try and eliminate it from my vocab to begin with - I understand I am still going to hear this word, but something that triggered this whole thought process and why I needed to start writing in my blog again was the fact that I heard a little girl no younger than 8 say indirectly to me "My mum says I'm on a diet and I can't have chips"... now we all know kids like to tell little porkies and I also understand that quite possibly she misheard it as the mother talking about herself. But that one sentence made me realise, how often have my children heard or see me treat food as this evil thing in my life!?
If you have read my past two blogs and many of my other ones you have probably noticed a theme going on with the way I write and what I write about. The fact I hate my body and how it looks. I have done so for sooooo long I can't even remember the last time I actually looked in the mirror and loved myself. You probably also know that I failed with WLS and that I constantly fail at dieting...
HOLD UP... let us step back a bit.... why have I failed? Really? Why? Because health professionals and people in my life see my size and weight as a project? As an avenue to discuss my health? I have NOT failed - the system has failed me. And it's going to continuously fail others if they do not redirect their hatred of fat people. Stop trying to FIX us!
One thing I am starting to realise and also what I am starting to research (properly I might add, not like these bogus anti-vaxxers) is that by trying to shrink us to an "ideal" weight can have more implications on our health than telling us to start accepting our bodies for what they can do and achieve. I have been on so many fad diets, well-being journeys, programs and the last final one was WLS. Yes I lost weight felt slightly "happier" but then when I lost that motivation or had a slight gain or no change I fell off. The weight crept back on and then a little more. This is where the failure thoughts come into play... I'm failing and then the thoughts start that I am lesser of value to this world because I am bigger.
I started listening to a podcast yesterday after recommendation from an person I follow on Instagram who is about body acceptance at every shape and size. I quoted her in my last blog, please follow her if you are over the stigma. I will link her at the bottom of this blog. The podcast I started listening to was Christy Harrison - Food Psych. I was hesitant at first because it would mean going AGAINST EVERYTHING we are told from a young age. AGAINST what people say to me, what people think of others and AGAINST so called health professionals. But I found one that I wanted to listen to - The Truth about Weight Loss Surgery and "Food Addiction". I will also link the podcast at the bottom of this blog. They didn't overly discuss Lap-Banding but they did discuss the fundamentals of how restrictive eating can have an effect on your body and mind. Now please be mindful they didn't state this was for everyone that has had surgery, but they did back their case.
For me WLS has done exactly what they said can happen to people. I went in thinking WLS would fix me make me feel normal again. All it did was make me miserable when I didn't lose a few grams a week, I felt like I was failing. I hated the fact I couldn't eat a proper meal with my family. I hated knowing that at any moment I could end up purging or sliming. I hated the fact I could eat slider foods just to get some energy. I hated FOOD and myself. So I turned to the glass of wine a lot more and more and more. Apparently there is a higher addiction level with people who have had WLS in turning to alcohol because we absorb it quicker and differently. And you know what - that is 100% true in my case. I never had an addiction, not until the WLS. Could be a coincidence, who knows... but they need to stop selling WLS as the end to obesity because ITS NOT! It has been proven that no diet and WLS is ultimately the biggest diet you will ever be on, can fail! And unfortunately if it does fail you end up back where you began or worse off.
Last year I left my psych vowing to not get into this vicious cycle of the "well being" mindset. That I would love my body for what it does. But I failed - and because I see this failure in the mirror and when I go clothes shopping I become depressed.
I have decided I won't be getting the surgery to lose weight - because I know eventually my body will do what it wants to bloody well do! I want to wake up and enjoy life.
If you have read my past two blogs and many of my other ones you have probably noticed a theme going on with the way I write and what I write about. The fact I hate my body and how it looks. I have done so for sooooo long I can't even remember the last time I actually looked in the mirror and loved myself. You probably also know that I failed with WLS and that I constantly fail at dieting...
HOLD UP... let us step back a bit.... why have I failed? Really? Why? Because health professionals and people in my life see my size and weight as a project? As an avenue to discuss my health? I have NOT failed - the system has failed me. And it's going to continuously fail others if they do not redirect their hatred of fat people. Stop trying to FIX us!
One thing I am starting to realise and also what I am starting to research (properly I might add, not like these bogus anti-vaxxers) is that by trying to shrink us to an "ideal" weight can have more implications on our health than telling us to start accepting our bodies for what they can do and achieve. I have been on so many fad diets, well-being journeys, programs and the last final one was WLS. Yes I lost weight felt slightly "happier" but then when I lost that motivation or had a slight gain or no change I fell off. The weight crept back on and then a little more. This is where the failure thoughts come into play... I'm failing and then the thoughts start that I am lesser of value to this world because I am bigger.
I started listening to a podcast yesterday after recommendation from an person I follow on Instagram who is about body acceptance at every shape and size. I quoted her in my last blog, please follow her if you are over the stigma. I will link her at the bottom of this blog. The podcast I started listening to was Christy Harrison - Food Psych. I was hesitant at first because it would mean going AGAINST EVERYTHING we are told from a young age. AGAINST what people say to me, what people think of others and AGAINST so called health professionals. But I found one that I wanted to listen to - The Truth about Weight Loss Surgery and "Food Addiction". I will also link the podcast at the bottom of this blog. They didn't overly discuss Lap-Banding but they did discuss the fundamentals of how restrictive eating can have an effect on your body and mind. Now please be mindful they didn't state this was for everyone that has had surgery, but they did back their case.
For me WLS has done exactly what they said can happen to people. I went in thinking WLS would fix me make me feel normal again. All it did was make me miserable when I didn't lose a few grams a week, I felt like I was failing. I hated the fact I couldn't eat a proper meal with my family. I hated knowing that at any moment I could end up purging or sliming. I hated the fact I could eat slider foods just to get some energy. I hated FOOD and myself. So I turned to the glass of wine a lot more and more and more. Apparently there is a higher addiction level with people who have had WLS in turning to alcohol because we absorb it quicker and differently. And you know what - that is 100% true in my case. I never had an addiction, not until the WLS. Could be a coincidence, who knows... but they need to stop selling WLS as the end to obesity because ITS NOT! It has been proven that no diet and WLS is ultimately the biggest diet you will ever be on, can fail! And unfortunately if it does fail you end up back where you began or worse off.
Last year I left my psych vowing to not get into this vicious cycle of the "well being" mindset. That I would love my body for what it does. But I failed - and because I see this failure in the mirror and when I go clothes shopping I become depressed.
I have decided I won't be getting the surgery to lose weight - because I know eventually my body will do what it wants to bloody well do! I want to wake up and enjoy life.
- I want to be able to wake up in the mornings and be able to have something a bit "naughty" and just enjoy it for what it is.. FOOD
- I want to be able to enjoy going for a walk, not because it might help me lose weight, but because I enjoy doing it!
- I want to be able to show my girls that body acceptance isn't glorifying obesity.
- I want to be able to become less stressed about my body and how it looks, because that stress is the reason I am depressed.
- I want to love me
- I want others to see that I love me
- I want to smile and genuinely do it because I am happy.
- I want to love me the way my mum loves me...
Which is where we come in full circle. My mum loves me, she's loved me from the day I was born. All my lumps and bumps, when I was at my biggest and my smallest. Her last memory of me won't be for what I look like, but for who I was as her daughter. She loves me for ME!
One thing I need to learn is that not everyone is also going to agree with me, they may also judge me, hell I guarantee a lot will judge behind a screen for my words - but please remember... I am not judging you. I support anyone in what path they want to choose for themselves. But also know that if the path you choose doesn't work - you didn't fail, you never have. It's the system that is failing people.
I am not a project, I am not someone who needs to be fixed.
I am just someone who needs to find herself again and love herself - and maybe, hopefully the culture will change in trying to fix us, but to support us and realise the damage it's doing trying to fix us.
*links*
Why I need to love ME...
So I am hoping that everyone has read my last blog before they start this one - I am setting them a few hours apart in hopes that will happen.
One thing about my mental health that has always plagued me since the day I soaked in the words of my grandmother was the word FAT.
I was so young, around my oldest daughters age 11. I started to think I was unworthy of people to like me. My grandmother and aunt had this tendency to comment on my size whenever I saw them. And these were people I saw quite frequently, and when you hear comments about what you look like often enough you start to believe them. I don't think I ever heard my grandmother say one nice thing about the way I looked. If she did it was always a backhanded comment. Oh your hair looks lovely today, but that's because you have it tied up. Oh that jumper is very pretty, it hides your tummy. These comments (I must admit aren't exact LOL) are the ones that sit around with you for years. Then the comments start in adolescents where girls and boys alike would compare you to someone else. They would compare you based on your weight, height and looks.
So from a very young age I was made to think I was ugly, horrible and unlovable because I didn't look like someone else. It could have been any reason, but mine was always linked to weight. I was a horrible ugly person because I was bigger than my best friend. This is where the trouble with food began. I never developed an eating disorder, but my relationship with food changed just a frequently as my taste in boys and which one I liked more.
Even when I had my first boyfriend his comment that my best friend was beautiful and pretty made me think I wasn't worthy of being his girlfriend. I started to self sabotage that relationship very quickly... and that self sabotage continued not only with boyfriends but also friendships. The worst part I think about these years was the Health Education you had in high-school. Weighing and measuring teenage girls and recording it on their health record, still baffles me! The anxiety of those days still make me feel nauseous. Even as I got older and into more serious relationships, comments about what I looked like shape who I am today. One boyfriend wouldn't let me cut my hair as he liked me to look feminine. The more I type these comments out the more ridiculous they sound and the more it makes you wonder why I still hold them to my chest.
It is because of this pre-conceived notion that we as women, young girls, men and boys have to look a certain way. To weigh a certain weight. To be flawless and perfect. Women are sniggered at if we don't shave, wax or trim. I still don't understand why... well I guess I do. It is society and the notion we should be hair free like those retched porn stars.
In 2014 as most of you know I had lap-band surgery. This was because I was unhappy with the way I left in my own body. I hated the way I looked. Hated what I saw in the mirror. I lost 35kg and funnily enough the comments of "wow" and "good job" propped my self worth a little higher. I was finally worthy of loving.
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!!!! Yes, I am saying it! What the actual fuck??? I am more worthy of loving because I weight 35kg less?!?!?!? I know, I know that isn't everyone's thoughts. But those who have battled a life time of self loathing, self hate, comments and stigma about their size would think that. I felt more worthy and loved because I had lost weight. No one congratulates you on putting on weight LOL
And here I am 2019, back at starting weight, maybe slightly more... and this is where part of my depression is stemming from. The Alfred called me last week, in the midst of all the shit going on with my mum and me wanting to be there with her. I need to do that pH test again - because fuck it the first time didn't work. Apparently I took reflux medication. HELLO I don't suffer from it why would I take it. So they want me to come in again. This isn't just something I can pop into my local doctors to do. Nope 2 hour round trip, organising it around work, the anxiety of having that thing again (which isn't meant to cause pain, but ummmm for me it did) and honestly I don't have time right now as my Mum is more important right now. I got told if I don't do this and I reject the next 2 appointments I will be taken off the waiting list...
So I made the decision... well bit on both sides here. And I am no longer getting the surgery to get the Sleeve done publicly. So I start to research... costs to get Bypass done privately. So stab in the dark with no PHI it will be around 17-20k out of pocket. With PHI paying for a year and then still needing to pay out of pocket a few thousand... Why the FUCK am I doing this????
Go on say it - I know you all want to chime in... it normally happens.... FOR YOUR HEALTH TAMARA. But one thing I read this morning that made me want to punch the next person who says that (sorry about the violence, I probably wouldn't) was the following.
"There is a war on obesity right now and the medical community is heavily invested in it. However, what the research is actually saying is quite different - we are fighting an enemy that doesn't exist" Kristina Bruce
Keep reading the next blog where I am hopefully changing the way I view food, my body and who I let dictate what I should look like.
Stigma and Mental Health
So my last blog was a while ago - I am unsure why I stopped typing in my blog. I think life in general got in the way, but also because I was unsure who was really reading my blog.
Recently - things in my life have just gone pear shaped, so I guess the best way for me to actually process what is actually go on in my life and ultimately in my head is to type an open journal. Generally my blog is just an open view into my brain, how it ticks, works and what I am thinking. It's a way for people to get to know me without me actually word vomiting in their face. I have always been a thinker from a young age I would just daydream and think. I like to listen too, but I have the tendency to butt in during conversations too. I would almost call myself an In Betweener. Yes... I would accurately compare myself to one of those guys from that British series. Only difference I guess between them and me, is a penis.
So a year ago my mum got diagnosed with Stage 4 Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer, for all you people that can't be bothered googling it is essentially linked to smokers (even non smokers). It has been to say the least a tough bloody year for our family and very close friends. My brother, who if ever reads this has to be noted as one of the strongest bloody individuals I have ever met. He has been my mum's carer for the past 12 months and if I could give a price in anyway shape or form... it would be to show how grateful I am to have him in my life, but not just mine. Our children too.
The past month mum decided to stop treatment and in the past 3 weeks I have slowly in small ways started to lose my mum. She still has that sharp tongue when she needs it but the physical changes are what is hurting me the most. I'm OK with her deciding this, it is HER body and HER choice. And we respect that, but doesn't make it any easier of course.
Which brings me to why I have decided to get back into blogging - the past month my mental health has deteriorated so rapidly I wake most mornings not knowing who I am anymore or why I am still here. I am generally so open about my mental health - but I have this voice right behind me telling me to be strong for everyone else, you can crash later. And heck that STIGMA that I must be strong is hard hitting. I wake up exhausted, angry, hurt, sad and depressed most days. I can't remember the last day I woke up happy! And I guess I need to re-wind a bit here. And really really show where it started to fall apart.
July 2018 - Alfred Hospital, I was officially put on the waiting list for have my Band removed and to have the Sleeve done. This may or may not happen in one surgery. At this stage, I am STILL unsure if I want to proceed with the sleeve.
August/September 2018 - I basically discharge myself from seeing my psych. I have been feeling really good about myself lately. Mum was in a stable position, I was awaiting the call from the Alfred and ultimately I had decided to return to Uni (or should say, go to Uni) to study Psychology. I felt REALLY good, and this is probably the last time I felt truly Happy.
December 2018 - hectic month, Christmas, end of year and just general tiredness. I sat my first ever exam and felt really pumped to start my 3rd unit to officially enrol into Swinburne. But my mental health slowly day by day here started to waiver. The exhaustion of not being about to be everywhere at once was starting to take its toll and working as a Baker was not helping. By the end of the month, I decide to postpone Unit 3.
January 2019 - taking each day as it comes. I am neither sad or happy. I am in this slow rut. My patience is wearing thin, my self loathing starts to begin more and more. I am starting to hate myself for who I have become and what I look like. I have some pH 24 hour test where you have a tube shoved down your nose to monitor acidity levels. Sets my anxiety right off...
February 2019 - Mum decides to stop treatment and my mental health is pushed back further. I decide to not do Unit 3 because my time needs to be elsewhere. I do decide that I want to go into Management again and attend an information session for department managers. By this month, my mood is definitely not in the green zone. Most days I am angry... at what I am unsure.
Recently - things in my life have just gone pear shaped, so I guess the best way for me to actually process what is actually go on in my life and ultimately in my head is to type an open journal. Generally my blog is just an open view into my brain, how it ticks, works and what I am thinking. It's a way for people to get to know me without me actually word vomiting in their face. I have always been a thinker from a young age I would just daydream and think. I like to listen too, but I have the tendency to butt in during conversations too. I would almost call myself an In Betweener. Yes... I would accurately compare myself to one of those guys from that British series. Only difference I guess between them and me, is a penis.
So a year ago my mum got diagnosed with Stage 4 Non-Small Cell Lung Cancer, for all you people that can't be bothered googling it is essentially linked to smokers (even non smokers). It has been to say the least a tough bloody year for our family and very close friends. My brother, who if ever reads this has to be noted as one of the strongest bloody individuals I have ever met. He has been my mum's carer for the past 12 months and if I could give a price in anyway shape or form... it would be to show how grateful I am to have him in my life, but not just mine. Our children too.
The past month mum decided to stop treatment and in the past 3 weeks I have slowly in small ways started to lose my mum. She still has that sharp tongue when she needs it but the physical changes are what is hurting me the most. I'm OK with her deciding this, it is HER body and HER choice. And we respect that, but doesn't make it any easier of course.
Which brings me to why I have decided to get back into blogging - the past month my mental health has deteriorated so rapidly I wake most mornings not knowing who I am anymore or why I am still here. I am generally so open about my mental health - but I have this voice right behind me telling me to be strong for everyone else, you can crash later. And heck that STIGMA that I must be strong is hard hitting. I wake up exhausted, angry, hurt, sad and depressed most days. I can't remember the last day I woke up happy! And I guess I need to re-wind a bit here. And really really show where it started to fall apart.
July 2018 - Alfred Hospital, I was officially put on the waiting list for have my Band removed and to have the Sleeve done. This may or may not happen in one surgery. At this stage, I am STILL unsure if I want to proceed with the sleeve.
August/September 2018 - I basically discharge myself from seeing my psych. I have been feeling really good about myself lately. Mum was in a stable position, I was awaiting the call from the Alfred and ultimately I had decided to return to Uni (or should say, go to Uni) to study Psychology. I felt REALLY good, and this is probably the last time I felt truly Happy.
December 2018 - hectic month, Christmas, end of year and just general tiredness. I sat my first ever exam and felt really pumped to start my 3rd unit to officially enrol into Swinburne. But my mental health slowly day by day here started to waiver. The exhaustion of not being about to be everywhere at once was starting to take its toll and working as a Baker was not helping. By the end of the month, I decide to postpone Unit 3.
January 2019 - taking each day as it comes. I am neither sad or happy. I am in this slow rut. My patience is wearing thin, my self loathing starts to begin more and more. I am starting to hate myself for who I have become and what I look like. I have some pH 24 hour test where you have a tube shoved down your nose to monitor acidity levels. Sets my anxiety right off...
February 2019 - Mum decides to stop treatment and my mental health is pushed back further. I decide to not do Unit 3 because my time needs to be elsewhere. I do decide that I want to go into Management again and attend an information session for department managers. By this month, my mood is definitely not in the green zone. Most days I am angry... at what I am unsure.
Today March 6th
I have woken up depressed and for the first time I am admitting that I am depressed. I know I have been for a while, maybe I shouldn't of stopped seeing my psych so quickly, but I was feeling the best I had felt in years back then. But right now - wow... it's such a different feeling to PND where my days were blurry and numb. I feel everything this time. I feel the anger, the hurt, the pain and the sadness. The one person I can normally rely on (ME) to talk openly about depression is creating this bubble and not wanting to openly discuss it. Why??? Stigma I suppose... and I think I know one main culprit of my depression and why I am here. It's not the fear of losing my mum, it is the fear of losing the one person in my life that has ALWAYS loved me for ME.
to be continued...
Monday, 23 July 2018
Marriage... Babies... and Now
I started writing another blog just before - but wasn't feeling it after starting to type it. And I think that's because I need to get out what I have been feeling since reading a few books.
So a friend suggested I read a few books by the Author Colleen Hoover. It's not the first time this friend has suggested a book/author so I trusted her judgement on this. And I am so glad that I read this amazing woman's work. I am not normally a romance kind of girl - well, I am but the past romance books I read were a little kinky (no not that 50 shades of grey crap, a more depth and story telling kinky romance). But these books, each one I read, or should say devoured the more I connected with each story. The age of the characters are younger than me, but the way she writes and portrays I feel I am glimpsing back into my past and seeing my future all in a few thousand words.
The latest book I read "All your Perfects" was about a marriage going through a bad patch. It deals with infidelity, infertility and love. You may remember in one of my original blogs I wrote about how I suffered a few miscarriages before conceiving my first child. So this book in a way hit home a bit during those tough few months of our married life.
And this is why I am writing this blog, maybe it's more of a letter to my husband...and in depth into a marriage many people would assume is always happy. And guess what, marriage isn't all roses, marriage is bloody HARD WORK. Marriage isn't about calling it quits - marriage is about falling in and out of love all the time. And one quote in the book that holds strong is that (and I may get this slightly wrong LOL) "One of us may give up on the other one at any time, but as long as we don't give up together at the same time"... something about this made me click in my current 13 year marriage. We have had our ups and downs, our yelling arguments, times where I didn't even like my husband. But if I look back on it now.... all those times I gave up on my husband, he never once gave up on loving me. And I guess, it could be said the same for him.
So here goes....an open letter to my husband. A chance for him to read this and hopefully respond ;) and a chance for those to realise - marriage isn't always pretty or nice.
Dear....
We met during a time online dating was taboo - it was when you dated people you pashed at a nightclub or met through friends. Meeting someone off the Internet was considered dangerous. Oh how times have changed. You probably wouldn't of liked me during my high school years and quite frankly I probably would've found a way to bypass you. See I went for the notorious bad boy - I guess it was my way of breaking free of all bullying that I had received, I didn't quite care about mys self worth before you.
A few months before meeting you, I had just broken up with a guy I thought I would marry. I have always been the type to love hard, strong and wear it on my sleeve. But he broke not only my heart, but the way I loved back.
On March 9th 2001 we met, secretly I believe at the Flinder's Street Station under the clocks. In my typical bogon style I was loud the first time you met me. Cracking jokes to hide my insecurities and I guess one of the first ones was the pick up sticks comment near the Art's Centre. I still do remember that comment. We walked around the city that day, I can't remember exactly where but I do remember when you held my hand for the first time. It was on the way to Queen Vic Market. I also remember sitting next to you at Flagstaff gardens just talking... and I remember when you had to leave me at the station to pick up your brother from school. I remember the quick peck on the lips.
I do remember how it made me feel - happy.
I do remember that I called my then best friend and told her of my excitement.
What I didn't think would happen next - was falling in love with you so quickly...
So I was new to this whole "dating" scene. I had never really dated anyone that made me nervous to talk with or about. My parents weren't too happy with the prospect of online dating. I had in the past abused their trust when it came to boys. I was 17 and you were 18, closer to 19. I had just started my baking apprenticeship and I guess mum was worried I would play boy over career. But I wasn't about to do that. We took things pretty slowly - but I do want to talk about our first "date" that was I guess official. You even had to meet my parents before we could go on this - for that I liked you a little bit more. Books or magazines tell you boys hate meeting parents and considering you did this on our 2nd official date meant a lot to me. My parents couldn't work you out, you were quiet and polite. Didn't give much away and honestly I think that shocked them. Their daughter was dating someone they weren't used to.
That day we went out for lunch, nothing spectacular it was KFC LOL - but we took it over to a park I wanted to show you because I just wanted to talk and get to know you a bit more. This was the first time you really kissed me - first time I had been kissed and got that feeling in the pit of your stomach. That feeling that you read about in all those romance books. It's where you separate for air but feel lonely. It's probably the first time I have ever told you, let alone a blog how it made me feel. It was the first time I felt safe.
You see, the guy before you never made me feel like I was 1st in his life even after 6 months. He promised me the world and even though I was young, like I said I wore that heart on my sleeve. And one of his kisses ended with him telling or more pushing me away and saying he needed to break up with me. He turned something that was special - into something that tortured my soul and heart. I don't think that part ever healed...
But in that one kiss you healed a fractured part of my heart - it wasn't fully healed it would take years even a decade to do that (but you don't know this right now).
Things progressed with us, fast... I wasn't scared or maybe I was I don't know. We both had said I love you within 3 months of our relationship. At this point, I can honestly say you probably meant it more than me. But please don't think that's something that you should worry about. Again you had only healed a fraction of my heart, and I still had this gaping big hole that needed mending. It wasn't just the previous boyfriend who had hurt me, it was many before that. It's not something I can easily talk about on a blog but you know what it was that happened to me, and those close to me also know. It's that part of me that will never be mended and that part of me that will always be broken and dark. And that is no reflection of the love we share now. It was at this point I started to (attempt) to push you away. Saying that I needed to slow things down. I never told you this and you've probably forgotten, but I am glad at this point you didn't give up on US. This is why I am writing this open letter. The soul purpose - it's when YOU didn't back away or give up. I may of started to, but you saw something, felt something and made sure it didn't go away. This is another part of my heart that you healed.
We finally decided to move in together - I can't remember what year but we had been dating for 2 years. We were comfortable in our relationship and you hadn't run away from someone who did shift work. We rented - and people always bang on about rent money is dead money. But I am glad we did that. It was our trial together. They say you don't know someone until you really move in with them. And here you learnt all about me... And I learnt all about you. During these three years 2001 - 2004 we had our ups and downs, our battles and our fights. But again, when I was giving up YOU weren't. There you were, still loving me even though my flaws tried to push you away.
On April 4th 2004, you proposed to me. Even though I had been bugging you for months to propose and even I did on leap day LOL you held out. I give you shit ALL the time for this LOL, and you know the story I am about to tell the world... At 9pm (ish) just before I was about to go to bed for an early start you got down on one knee and proposed while I was on the couch, in my pj's... It wasn't romantic it wasn't this big thing...
And here's the tag line - It was US - I may give you shit but you knew us and you knew me better than anyone. I didn't want a big deal - I never have! I still don't! Our relationship has always been about what WE want. And here we were this 21 and 20 year old, living in a house that had an outdoor dunny, 2 doors from my parents, renting and now engaged...
That black hole in my heart.... just got a bit smaller...
So, I have decided to do this in parts *wink* I am cruel like that.
If you want more, you're just going to have to wait !
So a friend suggested I read a few books by the Author Colleen Hoover. It's not the first time this friend has suggested a book/author so I trusted her judgement on this. And I am so glad that I read this amazing woman's work. I am not normally a romance kind of girl - well, I am but the past romance books I read were a little kinky (no not that 50 shades of grey crap, a more depth and story telling kinky romance). But these books, each one I read, or should say devoured the more I connected with each story. The age of the characters are younger than me, but the way she writes and portrays I feel I am glimpsing back into my past and seeing my future all in a few thousand words.
The latest book I read "All your Perfects" was about a marriage going through a bad patch. It deals with infidelity, infertility and love. You may remember in one of my original blogs I wrote about how I suffered a few miscarriages before conceiving my first child. So this book in a way hit home a bit during those tough few months of our married life.
And this is why I am writing this blog, maybe it's more of a letter to my husband...and in depth into a marriage many people would assume is always happy. And guess what, marriage isn't all roses, marriage is bloody HARD WORK. Marriage isn't about calling it quits - marriage is about falling in and out of love all the time. And one quote in the book that holds strong is that (and I may get this slightly wrong LOL) "One of us may give up on the other one at any time, but as long as we don't give up together at the same time"... something about this made me click in my current 13 year marriage. We have had our ups and downs, our yelling arguments, times where I didn't even like my husband. But if I look back on it now.... all those times I gave up on my husband, he never once gave up on loving me. And I guess, it could be said the same for him.
So here goes....an open letter to my husband. A chance for him to read this and hopefully respond ;) and a chance for those to realise - marriage isn't always pretty or nice.
Dear....
We met during a time online dating was taboo - it was when you dated people you pashed at a nightclub or met through friends. Meeting someone off the Internet was considered dangerous. Oh how times have changed. You probably wouldn't of liked me during my high school years and quite frankly I probably would've found a way to bypass you. See I went for the notorious bad boy - I guess it was my way of breaking free of all bullying that I had received, I didn't quite care about mys self worth before you.
A few months before meeting you, I had just broken up with a guy I thought I would marry. I have always been the type to love hard, strong and wear it on my sleeve. But he broke not only my heart, but the way I loved back.
On March 9th 2001 we met, secretly I believe at the Flinder's Street Station under the clocks. In my typical bogon style I was loud the first time you met me. Cracking jokes to hide my insecurities and I guess one of the first ones was the pick up sticks comment near the Art's Centre. I still do remember that comment. We walked around the city that day, I can't remember exactly where but I do remember when you held my hand for the first time. It was on the way to Queen Vic Market. I also remember sitting next to you at Flagstaff gardens just talking... and I remember when you had to leave me at the station to pick up your brother from school. I remember the quick peck on the lips.
I do remember how it made me feel - happy.
I do remember that I called my then best friend and told her of my excitement.
What I didn't think would happen next - was falling in love with you so quickly...
So I was new to this whole "dating" scene. I had never really dated anyone that made me nervous to talk with or about. My parents weren't too happy with the prospect of online dating. I had in the past abused their trust when it came to boys. I was 17 and you were 18, closer to 19. I had just started my baking apprenticeship and I guess mum was worried I would play boy over career. But I wasn't about to do that. We took things pretty slowly - but I do want to talk about our first "date" that was I guess official. You even had to meet my parents before we could go on this - for that I liked you a little bit more. Books or magazines tell you boys hate meeting parents and considering you did this on our 2nd official date meant a lot to me. My parents couldn't work you out, you were quiet and polite. Didn't give much away and honestly I think that shocked them. Their daughter was dating someone they weren't used to.
That day we went out for lunch, nothing spectacular it was KFC LOL - but we took it over to a park I wanted to show you because I just wanted to talk and get to know you a bit more. This was the first time you really kissed me - first time I had been kissed and got that feeling in the pit of your stomach. That feeling that you read about in all those romance books. It's where you separate for air but feel lonely. It's probably the first time I have ever told you, let alone a blog how it made me feel. It was the first time I felt safe.
You see, the guy before you never made me feel like I was 1st in his life even after 6 months. He promised me the world and even though I was young, like I said I wore that heart on my sleeve. And one of his kisses ended with him telling or more pushing me away and saying he needed to break up with me. He turned something that was special - into something that tortured my soul and heart. I don't think that part ever healed...
But in that one kiss you healed a fractured part of my heart - it wasn't fully healed it would take years even a decade to do that (but you don't know this right now).
Things progressed with us, fast... I wasn't scared or maybe I was I don't know. We both had said I love you within 3 months of our relationship. At this point, I can honestly say you probably meant it more than me. But please don't think that's something that you should worry about. Again you had only healed a fraction of my heart, and I still had this gaping big hole that needed mending. It wasn't just the previous boyfriend who had hurt me, it was many before that. It's not something I can easily talk about on a blog but you know what it was that happened to me, and those close to me also know. It's that part of me that will never be mended and that part of me that will always be broken and dark. And that is no reflection of the love we share now. It was at this point I started to (attempt) to push you away. Saying that I needed to slow things down. I never told you this and you've probably forgotten, but I am glad at this point you didn't give up on US. This is why I am writing this open letter. The soul purpose - it's when YOU didn't back away or give up. I may of started to, but you saw something, felt something and made sure it didn't go away. This is another part of my heart that you healed.
We finally decided to move in together - I can't remember what year but we had been dating for 2 years. We were comfortable in our relationship and you hadn't run away from someone who did shift work. We rented - and people always bang on about rent money is dead money. But I am glad we did that. It was our trial together. They say you don't know someone until you really move in with them. And here you learnt all about me... And I learnt all about you. During these three years 2001 - 2004 we had our ups and downs, our battles and our fights. But again, when I was giving up YOU weren't. There you were, still loving me even though my flaws tried to push you away.
On April 4th 2004, you proposed to me. Even though I had been bugging you for months to propose and even I did on leap day LOL you held out. I give you shit ALL the time for this LOL, and you know the story I am about to tell the world... At 9pm (ish) just before I was about to go to bed for an early start you got down on one knee and proposed while I was on the couch, in my pj's... It wasn't romantic it wasn't this big thing...
And here's the tag line - It was US - I may give you shit but you knew us and you knew me better than anyone. I didn't want a big deal - I never have! I still don't! Our relationship has always been about what WE want. And here we were this 21 and 20 year old, living in a house that had an outdoor dunny, 2 doors from my parents, renting and now engaged...
That black hole in my heart.... just got a bit smaller...
So, I have decided to do this in parts *wink* I am cruel like that.
If you want more, you're just going to have to wait !
Thursday, 21 June 2018
It's been a while...
That's actually one of my favourite songs and currently is on my Spotify playlist - it's a song that I used to sing to at the pub, blind off my face. Before being married and before kids... when I thought the world was revolved around me and how much money I could save from $100 after drinking...
Fast forward to now - married for 13 years and three kids. H, M and J - I didn't even think about marriage or kids back in those days. I mean, I was with my now husband but the thought never entered our conversations or topic. We never knew about things like PND, mental illness, sensory processing issues, fussy eaters and the big one AUTISM.
And that's why after so long from blogging I have decided to come back and do a little blog on Autism and how it has changed us as a family unit.
Like I said, before we had kids we had no idea anything existed besides....well CHILDREN. I have began studying Cert III in Teacher's Aide and even knowing about ASD and other behavioural things there is still stuff out there that I had no idea existed. Our middle daughter M was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism back when she was 4.5 in kinder and from memory I have already blogged about that back when I first started this page. But this post isn't about her... it's about our little boy, our last baby who was recently diagnosed HFA - or Level 1 Autism.
Hearing those words again wasn't as hard as the first time. Even though we had been fighting to hear them since he was 3.5 years of age it came as no shock. He was struggling at school to interact with other children, he would play but it was more of a follow. He had a horrible start to the year and actually didn't officially start school when all the preps did. Do you know how soul crushing that was for me? Not that he didn't want to go to school, but the anxiety he must of felt - how horrible his tummy must of been hurting to make himself sick. And there was nothing I could do but comfort him. He slowly transitioned into school and actually did really well. His teacher, what can I say. She is beyond amazing! She has done wonders for him, and I worry we won't get the same teacher for him next year.
So two weeks before he turned 6 he got that diagnosis. Like I said I didn't really react as much as I did with M. But I will be honest and say right now it's hurting so bad inside I don't know what else to do but type it out.
J is such a sweet little soul - he loves being loved, he cuddles and loves kisses. He adores to chat about his loves and interests (Dinosaurs and Animals). He loves to draw and colour in and honestly if you didn't know any better you could say he was a very NT boy. But that's where the "normal" stops. He doesn't like to be hugged or kissed unless he wants to - and this includes extended family. He finds it hard to look you in the eye when talking, he's not being rude but he just doesn't feel comfortable - that also comes to talking to you or trying to answer. He sometimes really struggles and will get me to answer for him. I am tying to encourage him to talk and it's slowly getting there.
He's possessive of his stuff - toys, balloons, paper, textas, pencils, anything really that is "his". I never really understood when he did it and I had honestly never seen him do it. But last week for his birthday his cousin touched his balloons, and the anxiety that came across him. It was almost instant, I couldn't and still don't understand why he felt that way. It's something I need to learn and help him with.
There is so much more to his little quirks that I could be here typing about all night - but honestly this isn't the reason for the post/blog.
I want people to understand how hard it is for US as parents to help raise these little souls. How much time and effort we put into their needs and wants. The therapy, the meetings with schools, phone calls, appointments and most of all the meltdowns. I am not shrugging off the fact that raising children in general isn't hard - but raising on with special needs just adds a little more to our shoulders.
We don't need judgment, we don't need the eye rolls... we need the smiles and encouraging comments. My sister in law tonight messaged me and said how well I handled J tonight after his meltdown. Just something as simple as that reminds me that I am doing the best I can with what I have got. This parenting gig is bloody hard as it is!!!
So here goes from an Autism Mummy
My son has Autism, my daughter has Autism. Two out of three of my children have Autism. Because of this I have my own super powers - I can hear the snide remarks, I can see the eye rolls, I can sense when you think my child just needs to "suck it up" or my child needs get "over it". What would you actually like him to get over? His Autism? Maybe YOU yourself should get over it. Get over the fact you DON'T understand Autism, you DON'T understand what a meltdown is and you also don't do enough research of your own to understand not ONE autistic child is the same as another!!!! They're all different and they all showcase different things at different times.
My son's meltdowns can range and only I as a parent know when he's having one. It hurts when you think my child is just being a normal child, when I can feel his pain and feel his anxiety. I am trying to make him feel safe in this world where men are told not to cry and not to show emotion. I am trying to make him understand his feelings and you doubting his makes it harder for me...
Fast forward to now - married for 13 years and three kids. H, M and J - I didn't even think about marriage or kids back in those days. I mean, I was with my now husband but the thought never entered our conversations or topic. We never knew about things like PND, mental illness, sensory processing issues, fussy eaters and the big one AUTISM.
And that's why after so long from blogging I have decided to come back and do a little blog on Autism and how it has changed us as a family unit.
Like I said, before we had kids we had no idea anything existed besides....well CHILDREN. I have began studying Cert III in Teacher's Aide and even knowing about ASD and other behavioural things there is still stuff out there that I had no idea existed. Our middle daughter M was diagnosed with High Functioning Autism back when she was 4.5 in kinder and from memory I have already blogged about that back when I first started this page. But this post isn't about her... it's about our little boy, our last baby who was recently diagnosed HFA - or Level 1 Autism.
Hearing those words again wasn't as hard as the first time. Even though we had been fighting to hear them since he was 3.5 years of age it came as no shock. He was struggling at school to interact with other children, he would play but it was more of a follow. He had a horrible start to the year and actually didn't officially start school when all the preps did. Do you know how soul crushing that was for me? Not that he didn't want to go to school, but the anxiety he must of felt - how horrible his tummy must of been hurting to make himself sick. And there was nothing I could do but comfort him. He slowly transitioned into school and actually did really well. His teacher, what can I say. She is beyond amazing! She has done wonders for him, and I worry we won't get the same teacher for him next year.
So two weeks before he turned 6 he got that diagnosis. Like I said I didn't really react as much as I did with M. But I will be honest and say right now it's hurting so bad inside I don't know what else to do but type it out.
J is such a sweet little soul - he loves being loved, he cuddles and loves kisses. He adores to chat about his loves and interests (Dinosaurs and Animals). He loves to draw and colour in and honestly if you didn't know any better you could say he was a very NT boy. But that's where the "normal" stops. He doesn't like to be hugged or kissed unless he wants to - and this includes extended family. He finds it hard to look you in the eye when talking, he's not being rude but he just doesn't feel comfortable - that also comes to talking to you or trying to answer. He sometimes really struggles and will get me to answer for him. I am tying to encourage him to talk and it's slowly getting there.
He's possessive of his stuff - toys, balloons, paper, textas, pencils, anything really that is "his". I never really understood when he did it and I had honestly never seen him do it. But last week for his birthday his cousin touched his balloons, and the anxiety that came across him. It was almost instant, I couldn't and still don't understand why he felt that way. It's something I need to learn and help him with.
There is so much more to his little quirks that I could be here typing about all night - but honestly this isn't the reason for the post/blog.
I want people to understand how hard it is for US as parents to help raise these little souls. How much time and effort we put into their needs and wants. The therapy, the meetings with schools, phone calls, appointments and most of all the meltdowns. I am not shrugging off the fact that raising children in general isn't hard - but raising on with special needs just adds a little more to our shoulders.
We don't need judgment, we don't need the eye rolls... we need the smiles and encouraging comments. My sister in law tonight messaged me and said how well I handled J tonight after his meltdown. Just something as simple as that reminds me that I am doing the best I can with what I have got. This parenting gig is bloody hard as it is!!!
So here goes from an Autism Mummy
My son has Autism, my daughter has Autism. Two out of three of my children have Autism. Because of this I have my own super powers - I can hear the snide remarks, I can see the eye rolls, I can sense when you think my child just needs to "suck it up" or my child needs get "over it". What would you actually like him to get over? His Autism? Maybe YOU yourself should get over it. Get over the fact you DON'T understand Autism, you DON'T understand what a meltdown is and you also don't do enough research of your own to understand not ONE autistic child is the same as another!!!! They're all different and they all showcase different things at different times.
My son's meltdowns can range and only I as a parent know when he's having one. It hurts when you think my child is just being a normal child, when I can feel his pain and feel his anxiety. I am trying to make him feel safe in this world where men are told not to cry and not to show emotion. I am trying to make him understand his feelings and you doubting his makes it harder for me...
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