You sat there in the chair shifting. The cushion was not comfortable but it wasn’t the worst you’d ever deal with. You waited as the papers shuffled on the desk and he turned to face you. Quietly the little boy with the big brown eyes was playing with the blocks. The noises made the silence worse. Shuffle shuffle, click click, unidentified sounds from that beautiful boy. Finally he turned, you dug your fingers into your legs to keep from shaking. You already knew the answer but you needed to hear it from someone who could tell you that you weren’t crazy. He had a PhD, he knew crazy. Autism, Aspergers to be exact. Along with Sensory Processing Disorder and anxiety. You lips pressed together so you don’t cry. You knew what they were going to say, but hearing it was a slap in the face. But 4 years later you’re still ok.
Tap, tap, tap….fancy pen on a fancy leather shoe. Your under a microscope. He won’t tell you what’s wrong. Claims he doesn’t know. But you already heard the answer, because you’ve been living with it for years. But you needed to hear him say it. Say that you were bipolar and borderline. And he refused. So you broke his mug. And when you were finally ready to hear the answer, it was still a stinging mark across your face, because it wasn’t supposed to be right. 3 years later, you’re still alive.
Over and over this happens. It feels good and bad at the same time. Vindicated but what the fuck are you supposed to do now?
Now…When you need answers. When the bloods come back highly abnormal, you get nervous. And it’s not nervous that they will find something but more nervous that they wont. You are tired, swollen and drained. So they had scheduled another test. And you pray something pops up. Because in all your years …Nothing has. It’s hard to fight an invisible disease when you can’t find it. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. So you hope they find something. So that you won’t have to suffer without reasons…
But you realize in this moment that this may be the one answer that you don’t want to have already answered.
What do you say when someone you has never met, but has touched your life so profoundly. Do you weep freely or hide your tears from the world. When we lose those that shaped our lives through their words and talent; We sit in stunned silence as if a lover has passed. When the tears finally come and your body convulsed with solve, you curse the universe for trying to shatter dreams.
“What are you going to do next? Hit me with that fiiish”
Thank you for bring my awakening, helping me go after my dreams and just being one helluvah guy.
I love you forever
I like you for always
As long as I’m living
My baby you’ll be
I remember life before I was a Mom. I can tell you some tales that are outlandish but true. But those are in days long past, in a memory box, on a shelf not yet forgotten.
Jayson and Kaylin showed me how pure and divine love is. That there can be tears and scrapes along the way but nothing will bounce back quicker, fight harder or grow stronger than the soul of a Mother.
Now I know that you can eat oreos dipped in orange juice and that boogers are nutrious. I know that when push comes to shove you can and will use anything to clean up spills, that magic eraser doesn’t work on all paint and stains on beige carpet are harder to get out than one would think.
But I also know a tutu goes with everything (so does a Batman mask). I know the satisfaction of being read to. And how important having medicinal peas in the freezer are.
Today is one of those days I am counting my blessing as I can hold my babies tightly. My thoughts are with those whose time was cut short. May they shine brighter than the rest of all the stars. And may we know that they are ever by our side, waiting patiently, till we can take them in our arms again.
Pixie is just getting to the the point of hand games. But around here they dont seem to play them as much. Do you remember your favorite handgames? How they went? Am I making sense?
Hand games, that you played with friends. Miss Mary Mack, Ana Banana, QuackAdilioso, Miss Lucy, Down Down Baby.
We are bringing them back I’ve decided. Just like pogs (which are coming back to, I’m determined). If we could entertain ourselves with pieces of cardboard and metal, we can show the future the joy in hand games. And jump rope. And…and….JACKS
That’s it, people, we are forming a coalition, a society, a big fucking group to show our future leaders how to shake it off, go footloose, and be kids.
I need a good name for my group now. Something I can hashtag.
And I need more ideas! My brain is spinning, so I need your imput!
What was your fave childhood game? Tell me!
*note* I may or may not be having a just over quarter life crisis…don’t judge me!
I’m serious, it is a legitimate question to ask. You can answer for any of your really strong drugs that keep you balanced. My Valium is bright orange. It is the color you see when you go to the drug store and buy waxy earplugs or those really gross circus peanuts that people seem to enjoy.
Bright Orange. I suppose that it is supposed to maybe cheer me up. Make me feel like taking them it a-ok. Most of my pills, if you lay them out, are brightly colored. That is one of the reasons you know, that they say to keep them away from kiddos. I’m getting off the topic here, but there is a reason for that too. And that reason is exactly why I curious about the color of your Valium.
I have never really talked about my bipolar before but it is something that has come up a lot more recently. My switch seems to be getting flipped a lot more easily. I wake up this morning, I’m excited to start my day….well mostly, I have the kids ask the neighbor if they can walk with him to the bus because I haven’t changed and the color air hurts my soul. But most of all because I really don’t want to leave this house. I never want to leave the house.
So I woke up in a good mood, woke Charming up in a silly way and the kids. I sat down on the couch with Louise and pulled a blanket over me. (This is after the kids left and I still have not been able to get Charming out of bed) I have a huge cup of hot cocoa, that doesn’t taste as good as when Charming makes it but I know he is running late, so I don’t bother him. I have an appointment for OT and PT consults starting at 1015, it’s only 845 ish.
I take morning meds, meds that have a bit to keep down my depression but do nothing for my manic (those ones are bright blue!) and watch one of my fave shows as I get dressed and I put my contacts in. The show ends I am fully dressed…except my keys. I begin to search.
I search and search and search. Everywhere they should be, under everything. I start to panic. The switch starts to flip. I am running around the house frantically looking for my keys which I can not find. I call Charming, I cry about my keys, I snap at him for taking the wrong car, I apologize, I hang up.
Out of breath, I call the doc’s office to reschedule the appointments. I send Charming an apology text and now the house begins to waver. So not only is my snowball rolling down the hill of disasterville but it’s getting harder to stand. So I curl up on Louise, nest down into a blanket and open that bottle of joy, swallowing my dosage of happiness.
It takes a while to work but the placebo effect kicks in as it always does and I know I am going to be ok. I fell asleep and woke up indifferent. Not happy not sad but back to meh. That’s what sucks about having a mental disorder and a personality disorder. You never know who is going to win the fight when you wake up from something you perceive as bad.
When you crash emotionally and you don’t know what is going to happen. when you have trains of thought that go five billion miles per hour and in thirteen million different ways. You wake up and you are either the squirrel from”Over the Hedge” or Eeyore. You are either a drill sergeant getting everyone ready and doing your daughters hair all fancy. Or you are really wishing you were healthy enough to homeschool because then you wouldn’t have to leave the house.
You have this manic energy to clean the entire house, and after a few minutes, your body gives up on you. You collapse on the floor in tears because you just want things to be good. You want to make everything ok again. You want to feel useful but your body doesn’t want you to help. So you nest into yourself and become defensive.
Or worse, you just don’t care, about anything. you sit there and nothing’s going to make you care. You haven’t gotten validation from the people you feel you need it from. So instead of using your words, you just are emotionless. Or you are mean and push people away. Or at least, you try to. But there is always one person that won’t go away, and you have a love/hate relationship with that. it’s more that you love them and hate yourself. Because you don’t have the words to tell them what’s going on in your brain. Because you don’t know what’s going on in your brain.
So there you have it. At least, I think I summed up the bipolar thing rather well. And I even threw in a little borderline in there for ya… When it comes to having any illness that requires pills you sit there and wish for it to be over you count the days till you can stop taking pills and feel better. But, there are days that I look at those very bright pills in my hand, take a deep breath, ignore the tears welling up in my eyes and swallow all those brightly colored pills in my hand.
Because no matter how many days I count, you can’t get rid of what I have.
I am not going to sit here on a platform and talk about Autism. I am not going to give you my story, not right now at least. I am merely here to show you a picture. A picture of love, a picture of understanding, a picture that means more to me and more to advocation that any I have ever seen.
Three years ago I posted this picture with this caption.
Most grownups don’t understand Aspergers. My three-year-old daughter does… Jayson said“Kay I’m not feeling good, I forgot my blanket I need pressure”, this is what she did. No questions. No fighting. They are watching tv…I love my kids
Three years later, she is still the only one that totally understands him. They may argue, antagonize and all those things that siblings do. But when he needs something he can’t communicate, she is there, and taking care of him.