Autism and Psychiatric Hospital

Today I have to find mental strength.  It seems so hard to do the past few months as I find myself sinking into some emotional pit of doom, unable to find even enough strength to do the required tasks of the day.  However, this is also a required task, and one of great importance.  But, it doesn't make it any easier to gear up for.

My son has been hospitalized in a psychiatric center for issues he is unable to control due to his autism.  He is no longer functioning in our world as his fear and struggles prevent him from managing on a day to day basis.  And it sounds like he's pulling mama along for the ride, as I am having the exact same issues, without the aggression and violence.

This afternoon we head once again for another meeting with his psychologist, our psychologist, to discuss the ups and downs of our life as a family with autism.  The ups come fewer and further between than the downs, and the worry from this has taken the livelihood from my eyes and replaced it with someone I don't even know.  I look at myself and wonder where the spirited, passionate mother and woman of long ago has gone.  What I see scares me.  I do not wish to be the woman behind those eyes.  She looks back with a defeated blank stare on her face.  She is not alive.  She cannot find happiness.

This is the second round of psychiatric hospitals for our family.  I have major doubts about what they can do to help.  All the time and energy and focus put into helping my child, and I really don't see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I can't fathom finding help for this child whom owns my heart as I think about his thoughts and actions and his manner of living.  And yet, something in me won't give up, won't quit searching, won't quit trying.  He deserves my full attention, my every breath to get him to a place of happiness and success in whatever his path through life takes.  He deserves my undying commitment.

But what he can't take from me, I have learned, is my own happiness and success.  He can't grab onto the gleam of pride and strength in my eyes and turn it into the woman I have allowed myself to become.  He can't take away my own life.  I have allowed that to happen through fault of my own, given in to the power it has over me, this autism thing.  I have allowed it to suffocate me.  I haven't been strong enough to overcome the pain and hurt and fear and worry and sadness.  This isn't about him, but about me.  This is me living with autism.  Not autism in my own head, but the outward effects of having an autistic child. I am at a place where I am no longer willing to give it the power I have in the past.  I want to stand with pride, find the twinkle of expression in my eyes, be one step above this living with autism thing.

Today I will go to the psychiatric hospital where my son is being kept for the coming 9 weeks.  I will go and tell them how autism is affecting me, my marriage, my family.  I will tell our psychologist what I need to beat autism, what I need to do to find my sanity and regain my lust for life.  I will tell her I want my husband to see the life in my eyes, be able to laugh with me again.  I will tell her that I want to be the best mother I can be for my little guy, to have energy to play.  That I want to do everything within my power to help my son find his place in life, but not give up myself in the process.  I will tell her all of this, and ask her opinion on what i need to do to achieve it.

I need mental strength.  I need to be alive.  I need to live, not with autism, but above it.

Stomach Pain

I have complained about having knots in my stomach before. Though I have never really dealt with any stomach problems, issues I have had with Kaeden have caused some bouts with an upset tummy. But this time, this time it's different.

Waiting for these biopsy results have given me a glimpse of what stomach pain means. I don't feel like I have to throw up, I don't feel like it's something I ate, but there is a pain inside that just never leaves. It's true stomach pain.

I am STILL waiting for my biopsy results. Every day, I wait til 10 am to call my doctor (her phone hours) and then again I watch the clock tick away until 6 (her other phone consults). And every day she tells me the same thing: I'm sorry, there is nothing yet.

Last night as I called her, I was shaking like a leaf. I could barely keep the phone to my ear, fearful of hearing either yes or no. In all honesty, I am scared of having cancer, but nearly as scared if it isn't. What is the problem if it isn't cancer? What will I have to do? Will I be scared every day of my life that somewhere lurking inside me is cancer? Will every pain I have in life make me think it is cancer? And if it is cancer, god forbid....

Last night, when my doc told me the results weren't in, I commented: Oh no. My husband was with me in the kitchen and I watched as his face turned to ash and he slowly moved to my side and rubbed my shoulder. "Bad news?" he asked, as I realized he had only heard "Oh no." I immediately eased his worry by telling him the results weren't in, but his ashen face remained in my mind as I completed the call. This has affected all of us. My husband is under as much stress as me. His worry comforts me, but makes me feel guilty as well. Just how much stress can a person take?

Every day, I have friends and family calling for news. I have a support system and that is so good. Last night, the phone rang 5 times, one call after another...as much as I appreciate the support and their worry over my health, it is also extremely nerve-wreaking when the phone does ring. Sends a bit of a shiver through my spine. It's hard to explain. It's very weird to have to report on findings that don't yet even exist.

My doctor is contacting the hospital today. She will be calling me this afternoon. What does that mean? 1pm? 4pm? 5:30? My nerves are buzzing. I can't stop shaking. It's strange, this shaking sensation that just doesn't stop. I wonder, should I take my son to his basketball tournament, and possibly miss THE call? Or should I sit and wait, as I have been doing for more than a week already? I am so angry at the hospital as they told me the results would be in on Monday. How dare they say Monday when it's Wednesday already, and I still have no answer. I will be writing a letter, informing them that their misguided information has caused my family and I extreme stress that is unneccessary. Had they said: Your reaults will be in the end of next week. I wouldn't be so uptight and tawt. But expecting something this serious on Monday and still waiting....it's unacceptable.

So, I continue to wait. Every tick on the clock feels like an hour. And the pain in my stomach, well, it sits there taunting me.

A Day Lasts Too Long

It's been awhile since I've written. I come, trying to find words, but can't. My mind is lost in a fog. So much has been happening around here, so much that makes 2012 to date a really shit year. I try to focus on the positive, but sometimes it is so hard.

Kaeden had his 17th birthday on January 12th. However, it was a very crappy celebration. My son was given no party, no cake, no gifts. The only thing that made his day memorable was mama coming to his home away from home to give him the news he was no longer welcome at home, until he could recognize that abusing people is not okay. I wrote my son an intimate letter, giving him my heart and my love, along with my support for him during his turmoil. I don't know if he is capable of understanding the meaning, but it was necessary for me to let him know that no matter what he does, I am always here for him.

He physically hurt me a few days before, and after emergency meetings with poilce, his school and home, we decided he needs time to recognize his actions are not okay, which resulted in him living away from home for awhile. He will only be coming home on Sundays for a few hours. It pains me, but my hope is that he grasp just some little piece of the message. If he chooses to hurt people, his life will change and not for the better. Sundays are my happy day, when we are all together, doing family stuff, and laughing and playing together without any fights or pain.

My mother-in-law had a heart bypass. It was a scary time and she is still in the hospital, but came out of surgery fine. When we visited her before her operation, she was in a panic and scared of dying. It was difficult for me as I have always seen her as such a strong woman. It gave me a sampling of how important she is in my life, how we should never take those important for granted. I hope her recovery is quick and easy for her. She deserves a little break from pain and health issues.

I found a lump on my left breast. After going to the doctor and subsequently having an ultrasound and mammogram done, there was question as to whether I have breast cancer. I waited for my MRI feeling positive and faithful that all would be just fine. However, after having my MRI read, I was sent for an emergency biopsy. When I asked how things looked, the lady told me she coulkdn't tell me anything until after the biopsy results come back. I suggested that she does hundreds of these tests a day and would like a little clue. Her answer, with a gentle hand on my shoulder, was: It doesn't look good.

I am supposed to receive the results of my biopsy today. It has been a horrendous week. Walking around wondering if you have cancer is the most stressful thing to go through. Every little "symptom" I have points to cancer. PLaying with my children brings on tears as I wonder if cancer will take me from them. Making love to my husband brings about a wave of emotion and fear I didn't know was hidden inside. HIs kisses to assure me only make the tears fall harder.

I called my doctor for the results. They aren't in yet, and she won't be there to get them this afternoon. I have another day of waiting, of fear and of wondering. I have another day of feeling my breast, checking my lymph nodes, pain in my stomach. Touching this body that somehow doesn't feel like my own, like it is a shell housing an amotional wreck inside, looking through the mirror at hollow eyes with black circles under them, wondering if the black circles are caused by worry or by a cancerous beast living inside me.

I need to know. I pray the results are negative. One day I am upbeat and feel so sure, and the next I whimper like a baby certain I am going to die. I don't need to hear breast cancer statistics, that it isn't a death sentence. I don't need to hear that I will be supported. I don't need to hear that so many lumps turn out to be nothing. I don't need to hear that I can't do anything about it anyway...I just need to hear the word Negative....that's when it will be okay.

One more day...just taking it one day at a time. But oh, how long a day lasts...

Fat

I am fat. That's a given and how I got here is a combination of genetics and mistakes, but it is what it is. I often go through phases in which I try to take better care of myself through diet and exercise, and it works for me, if only temporarily. Often I get stuck at a certain place and lose the motivation to continue and turn to food as a comfort when I shouldn't. At the moment, without putting in much effort, I have been doing well and fitting into smaller clothing sizes. It feels good, but as always, I save the larger sized clothing for the day when I fit into them once again. I'm not sure that is a good choice, but for me, it seems to be the circle of life, and that's how I roll.

Being fat sucks. Being tired and feeling sick and having no energy is not a wonderful way to live your life. Luckily, I stay active, even with my excess weight. My children and husband demand an active lifestyle, and so we continue to enjoy walks in the woods, days at amusement parks and zoos, bike riding out in nature...all things I love and treasure, and am blessed to be able to do with my family. I haven't yet held them back from doing what they enjoy in life, even if I have held myself back many times due to my weight and size. I know they would all prefer me to be healthier and also more eye appealing, but never have my own family made me to feel like I am a burden (I am not, I do everything for them, for the record, but they could whine and complain much more than they do).

I despise being fat, and hate when people mention that I look as if I have lost weight...I do not like that attention on myself. I don't like people noticing as it makes me feel even more self-conscious. Sometimes I think that alone plays a part in my losing motivation. Stupid, maybe, but being heavy is not only physically exhausting, but also emotionally and mentally. It plays with your mind and your body. It's not a fun manner of living.

Lately, I have been confronted with numerous friends and acquaintances who have chosen to do something about their weight once and for all. However, they are doing it surgically, rather than through diet and exercise. And I am sort of stuck in this fight with myself about how I feel about doing something so drastic. Is it okay, is it necessary, is it an easy way out, is it the "magic pill" everyone dreams of finding? Here is what I have concluded given my own weight battles and my own experiences:

I believe that being overweight is somewhat of a choice. Yes, there are many other roles playing a part, but ultimately, it is me who places the food in my mouth, and if I make poor choices, I will gain. If I choose not to get out and exercise, I will have no muscles to break down the fat. This is also a choice, and one I am not very good about completing, other than for necessity. So, it lays on my shoulders, the choices I have made in getting me to this place.

Once you reach a certain weight, it is no longer an easy task to turn it around. Your habits persuade you, and even in your very best of intentions, it is easy to fail. Often, with being overweight, you are confronted with additional health issues, such as diabetes, joint pain, back pain, stomach issues, an inability to have children, heart problems. These are all medical issues, but stem from choices you have made. It is a result of being overweight. I, personally, have been lucky not to suffer any serious medical issues due to my weight, but do tend to have pain in my knees and ankles, surely from the weight they are forced to carry. This does scare me for the future, when even healthy people are confronted with walking difficulties and other medical issues, completely unrelated to weight issues, but present nonetheless due, simply, to aging. I am not boding well for the future, due to the care I have given my body thus far in life.

Medical issues can be turned around, and prevented with weight loss. I get this. I also get that having gastric bypass surgery or putting in a stomach band reduces your weight. But what really bother me about these processes, is that too many people I know are doing it not because of health issues, but simply as a chance to be free of extra fat. And I struggle with believing that this is acceptable.

I hear my friends giddy with happiness over the prospect of upcoming surgeries, or seeing others melting away into a normal-sized person. And I am jealous that it isn't me being allowed to walk into any store to buy clothes, or sitting on a plane without worrying I am taking up the seat of the person next to me, or not going on a rollercoaster for fear I won't fit in the seat. But still, I have done this to myself. Is it right for me to then have surgery to take away the pain of the years of abuse I have done to my body?

I know these surgeries are not easy. I know you must go through a period of hell before you reach your desired weight. I know it isn't an easy solution. However, when I speak to some people about it and they haven't taken any opportunity to try to do this for themselves before resorting to something so major, it does make me a little mad. Why have they been able to abuse their bodies for so long, and not have to fight to get desired results? I am not speaking of all people who do choose to have this surgery. People who have struggled with their weight, sincerely tried doing something about it, and failed for whatever number of reasons, I can back them up. But for others, I just struggle to uncover how this drastic measure will result in the new person they think they will become by losing weight.

I understand the desire to be free of excess weight and all the pain that comes with it. I understand the need to seek happiness you can't find hiding behind layers of fat. But, I don't know to what extent I agree and support gastric bypass surgery. I know I would be a candidate for it, and I also know that with our medical system here it would be affordable. Hearing my friends and acquaintances discuss their choice to have this surgery almost makes me want to head to the doctor and start the process. But something within me knows I am here because I did it to myself. And I am not sure I can allow myself the freedom of losing this weight, knowing I didn't do all I could for myself, mentally, emotionally, and physically, before resorting to something so major. I think I owe it to myself to have to fight for what I want. And if I fight and then can't manage it, then maybe I have the right to search out a deeper level of help.

I don't begrudge these people their choices or decisions. I do envy what they receive at the end. I just hope that they find what they have been seeking all along when they reach goal weight, without dealing with the problems that brought them to that point in the first place. Or, better yet, that they do deal with those issues and find complete happiness and pride in the person they become after going through gastric bypass. For myself, I've got a lot more thinking to do on this issue.

Life Is Fragile

The older I get, the more I come to see how fragile life is. In the blink of an eye, anything can happen and life changes, for you, your family, your friends. And it's so completely unsure.

When Kaeden returned from America, he was excited to see his friends again. Particularly his girlfriend. Upon his return, he learned that his girlfriend had been in a serious car accident and was in critical care in the hospital. She was comatose and beyond that, nobody could tell us anything. Eventually, Kaeden was able to reach his girlfriend's mom via her cell phone, and she relayed the information that his girlfriend was still in a coma and had been moved to another hospital. This, of course, had a big impact on Kaeden, though he never wanted to discuss the situation. I offered to help him find out additional information and take him for a visit if that was something he wated to do. He refused my offer, and every week I ask how she is doing, if he has heard news.

This week he came home to tell me his girlfriend came out of her coma on Monday. He spoke with her yesterday and her memory is very sketchy. When I asked him more, he said he didn't want to talk about it and I saw his shoulders tense and his face grimace. I went to touch him to offer my support, and he pulled away. I knew the sign...just leave me alone.

I quietly and calmly told him if he wanted to talk, I would be here to listen. Tonight when he came home from Judo, I asked how it was as he ate dinner. Then I eased into how things went at school this week, and simply asked what he knew about Kathleen. I told him I would like to know so I don't have to worry any more. So, though he was tense, he told me his story, of her needing to undergo operations, of her not remembering anything, of her wounds. He didn't give a lot of details, but when I told him I am so happy she woke up and is still alive, he touched me on my arm. "Me too, mama. I wish that didn't happen, but I am so glad she is going to be okay." I was so pleased he opened up to me, let me in to share his pain and grief. Allowed me to offer comfort and support.

I will continue to pray for her, and for my son who has to live with the emotions of this event in his life. Life is fragile. For all of us.

Cancer

I'm not quite sure how to feel today. It's a mixed bag of emotions and one side of me is cheering while the other shivers in sadness. Today, one of my dearest friends was given the results of a test proving her liver is cancer-free! Yeah! I am so happy about this. Been praying like crazy that this would be the result. And my prayers have been answered.

But the other side of me is filled with jittery nerves. Though her liver is cancer-free, she is not cancer free. A couple weeks back she was told she has eye cancer. It's not a common form of cancer, but she has it. And because she has eye cancer, on September 28th she will be undergoing surgery and losing her eye and her sight.

I have tried to remain positive as I hear news of her symptoms and doctors visits. I try to think: Please, just let it be only her eye. And it is. But it is her eye. And her sight. And how can I be positive when someone I love is going through such a horrible, life-changing event? I mean, thank God it's "only" her eye, but damn, it's her eye!

My friend seems to be taking this process very well. Really, what else can you do? Life is what it is and it sends a lot of blows our way. This time, it's a whopper. And I just wish I knew what I could say or do to try and make it all okay. But nothing I say or do can make it all okay. It just isn't something that is okay. Someone I love has cancer, and it's already taking a piece of her she loves. It sucks.

I hope that throughout the course of this experience, that at the very least she will come to learn how very much she is cared about and loved. I hope hse knows that I am here for her and will do anything I can to help. That my shoulder is open for a good cry, my mind filled with useless jokes to make her smile. That I am so very sorry this is happening to her and her family.

I can continue to pray. I can buy her her favorite tea. I can show up for lunch with the girls. And I can be here, there, anywhere if and when I am needed.

Cancer, you may be taking her eye, but you will never take her sight, for she sees people as they are and looks at them beyond what an eye can see and accepts them and loves them for who they are. her sight goes beyond her eyes. And that, that you will never take from her.

Rest In Peace

In loving memory of my little Crocky who stays with us in spirit. May you find health, lots of fresh veggies, and the very crunchiest of hay in the place you have gone. I will miss your wheeting and wiggling nose my little friend. Rest In Peace.

How To Act

I'm home. And I still feel jittery, almost as if I have done something wrong. But I haven't. What I have done is good and right, something that shouldn't need consideration or thought. Yet, it took courage, it took thought, and consideration. It took energy. What do I say? Should I smile and laugh? How will she react? Will she want my company?

Today I took a leftover meal from our women's club party to the neighbor lady whose husband committed suicide a few weeks ago. We made up a plate of food with the thought that she would be happy to have it, and the comfort of knowing we cared. As she is my personal member, I was asked to bring her the food. When I was asked, it took me a moment to say Okay. It took me a moment to catch my breath and find the strength to take on such a task. But I said okay, and I completed my task, and I am glad I did.

She didn't take the plate of food (my kids are coming tonight and i already cooked) but she invited me in and told me she had only a short time to visit before she needed to leave. I wasn't sure I was welcome or she was being polite, but I am still glad I took the opportunity to do the right thing. What this accomplished was her knowing that I care, that though the funeral is over and the act forgotten by most, that she is still important and still thought of and we are open when and if she needs someone to turn to.

I drank a glass of water, talked about the weather and the garden and her kids and her parents, but we sidestepped the conversation of her husband and his death. I didn't know what was appropriate, what is appropriate in such a situation. But the simple act of my presence and my offer to be available if she needs me was well received. She thanked me for stopping by, told me she would appreciate me coming again as she said goodbye at the door.

It could have been an act, one of courage on her part as well, but that doesn't matter. I opened myself up and she let me in.

Coming to terms with how to act is not necessary in such a situation. Just being there is action enough. And today, I took action and showed someone that I care.

Driving

Today I planned a day out with a girlfriend. For Christmas, I bought her a surprise of High Tea and we just got around to going. She had no clue what our plans were which I always find even more fun. I picked her up and off we went.

I discovered that since my accident and having no current driving experience, I am not nearly as good a driver as I used to be. I think I really need to get out and drive more to gain back some confidence on the road.

Today was the first time I have driven any distance, and I got the okay from my therapist as long as I didn't overdo it to my hand. But what I wasn't prepared for was how much effort it took to drive. Watching everything going on around me, seeing bikers coming at me, one way streets and railroad tracks. It was a bit overwhelming, and by the time we reached our destination, I couldn't wait to get out of the car. Something I used to love and would take any chance to do just doesn't hold the same appeal for me now. Too bad.

Before we reached the safety of the parking spot, I needed to turn around. I pulled into a driveway to do so, backed out, slowed down to allow a biker to pass, and then rammed right into the back of a parked car. On my first day driving in two years. It really shook me up. The lady who saw it happen told me there was no damage as I was getting out of the car to check it out. As I have had no accident in Belgium/Holland, I wasn't quite sure what the procedure was. When she cleared me to go, I asked if she was sure and when she gave me the go ahead, we continued on our way, my hands shaking fiercely.

After our high tea, which was lovely but not quite as spectacular as I had hoped, and definitely not good value for money, I went back to have another look at the car. It was an older Volvo with a rusted bumper and I don't think it did any damage. My car had one small knick on the bumper as well as some paint on the tow hitch. Nothing serious, but enough to scare me about my driving ability. I realise why I wasn't allowed to drive earlier. I know that driving isn't just the physical ability, but also the mental capability.

I need more driving practice before I take on another 'long' trip. My hand feels the workout, but my soul feels just a little more battered than either of the vehicles involved.

Culture Shock and Homesickness

When I moved to Europe it was like I was completing a piece of me. I moved here with my son to join the new man in my life and create a family. Everything about Holland captured my heart. I enjoyed the history, the culture, the language...riding a bike and learning to be a wife. It took me four or five months to really fall into a stage of homesickness and culture shock. And when I did, it didn't even hit me very hard. I missed my family in America, I become a more patriotic person to my home country, and I treasured those special packages from home with little goodies and treats I missed. But I was also enjoying my new life and fell easily into the role of stay at home om and wife, of a student in language classes.

When we moved to Belgium three years after my big move to Europe, the culture shock and homesickness and pity party began. I think moving to yet another country with another language, another culture within such a short time was just too much. The first year I lived in Belgium was the hardest since my move to Europe. I was overwhelmed by everything, fell into depression, and never left the house unless it was absolutely necessary. I felt miserable, and our situation with Kaeden had accelerated, adding to my discomfort. I called my mom nearly daily in sobs.

Then, after that first year, things started falling into place a bit more. Belgium has never quite given me that easy comfortable feeling of home like I had when moving to Holland. However, the country has grown on me, I have learned to understand the people, and all the little societal rules have fallen into a pattern in my brain. Belgium is home, though it has taken a lot of effort getting it to this point. I have created a few friendships, gotten involved in the village, as well as found a comfort level with the mothers of Jari's friends. Soccer has given me another common activity with members of our community. I know what the different foods are, I can use my bank cards, and have deciphered the medical and insurance systems in place. Yet, even now, I find myself being sucked into the confines of home, having to force myself to open up the windows and head out into the fresh air.

Lately, I have been going through a different kind of feeling, something I can almost describe as a second round of culture shock. This time, it doesn't pertain to the new country, language, and people, but in my relation to all the above mentioned. I am realizing that this is my life. It is no longer a novelty, no longer a new adventure. It is my life, and I sit smack in the middle of it. There is no escape, it isn't a temporary arrangement, and it isn't full of frills like it was when it was new. I have learned the system, I can speak the language, and I can live the life. But now, I am wondering why I made this choice. Why did I throw away a college education and a degree? A job I loved? Why did I give up the freedom of my own vehicle and hundreds of miles of space to drive or walk or camp or run, people-free? Why did I give up my closeness with my family? Why did I give up everything I have ever known and loved to take on this new life?

It has taken me ten years, and when things have finally fallen into 'place' I fall head-first into this new reality. The realization that life just isn't what you expect it to be. Choices you make plan the course of your life and future. I'm feeling resentful towards this life, my husband and my family, the people and language. Some days it feels like I just want to go home...but when I turn around and face the four walls surrounding me, I realize I am home. I chose this course of life. I didn't know at the time just how hard it would be. And never, in a million years, did I expect to be going through this 10 years further. But I am. And now I need to get over it, take in a breath of frsh air, and remind myself of all the reasons I first fell in love with Europe. That will be the first step in finding peace and comfort once again within myself.

Case Closed

I read the email a second time, slowly taking it all in.
We regret to inform you that we don't think we can win your case, so we're closing the file.

It hit me like a wall of bricks. This is the second time they have closed my case, the second time they have decided they can't win. All I have left is to hire my own private lawyer, but that comes at a higher price...if they don't think they can win, why would another lawyer think s/he could? Why can't they win? I did nothing wrong, yet I remain handicapped for life. Is my handicap not enough evidence that something was faulty?

I had physical therapy and an appointment with the neurologist the same day. At physical therapy she told me my strength seems to have regressed. Was I in more pain than usual? Had I done something to tire my muscles out? At the neurologist I was given a final pain medication to try...two more months of medicating myself with all those side effects trying to make living be a pain free experience. Medicated. Not excatly my first choice, naturally, but I'll try it.

But, I was also given two other appointments. One with a revalidation specialist. Someone to help me learn to exist with my handicap. Someone with tools and tips and tricks for functioning as a handicapped individual. Secondly was with a pain management center. Here they take severe measures in helping you to live pain free. Such as, in my case, electro shock therapy to make my pain sensors unable to distinguish pain. My pain nerves will be completely blocked...no more pain...ever, for any reason...no more feeling whatsoever...is this really an option?

I can't say that I am feeling happy with everything that is happening with my hand. I'm not sure I want to try these new therapies, which sound quite permanent and what if I don't like what happens. I just don't know what to feel about it all. Happy to finally be given the option of 'something' that may help, but fearful about what the something is. My neurologist told me he believes I have reached the limit as what improvements I will see in my hand function. It has been a year since the accident...a year since my life was saved, but my hand was not. A year for it to improve...but also a full year...what more can I expect? We're moving onto pain management now, not functional improvement.

And as for the case, to help cover doctors bills and therapy and travel costs and psycologists and medical supplies and me BEING HANDICAPPED FOREVER AND EVER....that's in a constant state with a big red Case Closed stamp across the front page. And it makes me feel like I am unworthy of anything other then being this handicapped piece of a person, collecting bills and costs to further family financial crisis as I peel potatoes worrying about cutting off a finger and don't make stew knowing I can't cut the meat into chunks.

I know I should feel 'lucky', but right now I feel a flop of a mess.

Tight

Terror in his eyes
Teeth bared and a sob escapes
His body shaking
As he reaches for me
Clasps to me
Tight

I can't think of anything
But to get him away
Away from the fear
To stop the sobs
The bared teeth
The fear in his eyes
As he clutches to me
Tight

Down the stairs
The screaming
Kicking
Yelling
Nasty words
Just a distant drum
As I scramble to get him away
Away from the fear
As he grips my shoulders
Tight

His eyes when I dare to glance
Tell me all I need to know
Leave, go away, away from the fear
Give him a promise
As I clasp him
Tight
Security

Broken objects mirror broken hearts
Broken souls
Broken defeated fearful sad
I set him in the car
And he begins again
Sobs, shaking, terror
And I pull him to my lap
Screaming
Kicking
Anger just a distant background drum
Holding him against me
Tight

I promise him it will be okay
As his hand clutches mine in his
Tight
Tears still falling, silently
As I point out the big, round moon in the sky

I see the moon and the moon sees me
God bless the moon and God bless me
We chant together, fearful, unsure
His hand still wrapped in mine
Tight

No, don't go home yet, he begs
And I drive on, worried, fearful, scared, upset
But remembering the terror and unable
To place him in that moment yet again
Fear in his eyes
Trembling as he clasps onto me
Tight

I carry him inside
No more screaming
kicking
hitting
nasty words
Still afraid, clutching to me
Just take me to my bed
And I do, holding him
Tight

And the moon, round and big
And bright in the sky
Isn't peaceful, but looks
instead
like a great
emptiness
Tight
in my chest

As his sleep is filled
with jerks and sighs
I hold him, tears silently falling
On his cheek
As I kiss him
Holding him
Tight

Medical Issues

I got an email from Kaeden's home away from home yesterday. I had requested that they start giving him his allergy pills as he was all stuffed up and miserable throughout the weekend, and his pills did manage to offer him some relief. The email was simple, asking if he took pills or drops, but it hit me very hard.

See, my kid, from the time he entered this world, has had numerous medical issues. I'm not sure I understand, sometimes, why one individual is faced with so many challenges. When Kaeden was born he had trouble breathing, very shortly, but needed to be in an incubator none-the-less. When he was about 6 months old, he suffered his first bout of RSV. When he was 9 months old he experienced a seizure with fever which left him hospitalized for nearly a week. And thereafter, my little guy was coontinually in a battle with one ailment or another, his asthma and RSV serious issues which left us hospitalized for months every year. On one of these visits, my little baby actually had to be resuscitated to live.

The doctors offices were our second home, the medications they prescribed keeping him alive with worries about what the side effects could mean in the future. See, he wasn't just on a series of steroids, but series after series, well beyond the indicative amount. But, he was staying alive, taking his breathing treatments and nose cleans 4 times daily like the little trooper that he is. And then, suddenly, he started having major issues with his teeth, where surgery was required to fix them. Was this one of the side effects they couldn't predict from the use of medications? And his skin, so tender and itchy and covered in scales, exzema, was this another side effect? Or was my kid just one of the unlucky ones?

He had to have tubes in his ears from his numerous ear infections, he was one of the kids that actually got a bout of chicken pox from the vacciation, complete with fever and his little body full of dots. He was the kid you would see with tubes covering his little face as he walked, an oxygen tak dragging behind him, a requirement in order for him to breathe. And then, around the tender age of three, having withstood so much already, began his little, mini moments of behavior problems, first signaling to me that there was something deeper wrong with my son.

I had his hearing tested, I took him to a developmental center to see if he was on schedule developmentally. He was kicked out of day cares, and as a single working mom in school, I was the only one there to shoulder these burdens. My parents helped as much as they could, which was a lot, but they didn't live right next door. It was just me and my son.

As Kaeden's behavior issues got more serious, and he was shuffled from school to school, therapy to therapy,we were finally given a diagnosis of ADHD. He started taking ritalin, which helped, but not fully. Give or take another year of issues, and he was diagnosed with Autism. Give or take a few years, add allergies to the mix. Give or take a few years, add Oppositional Defiance Disorder, but not becuase they're convinced he has it, completely, but because it will allow him to have more services...so, I signed the papers...what's one more diagnosis in the life of this child's full account of diagnosis?

Recently, during a sportday at school, Kaeden was having trouble breathing. When I was told, I went into panic mode. I haven't witnessed him having issues with his asthma for 9 years now. The fear that settled in me struck me to the core. Nobody else can possibly understand this fear as I relived all those days in hospitals with my son hooked up to tubes and living in breathing tents. I'm still watching him very closely.

My son, asthma, allergies, ADHD, autism...all the A's. Add in a few more figures and it just seems like this boy of mine has been fighting from the start of his life. And a fighter he is...add another A for aggression. But is it any wonder? Look what this child has been subjected to in his short 15 years here on earth. Could any of us be where he is having withstood so many issues throuhout his short life?

When I give my son his medication, 6 pills in the morning, 4 at lunch, 4 at night, it alwyas pains me. As much as I know that it helps him to function, I'm still, after all these years having to pump him full of medication to help him survive. Just when does a kid get a break? And why, dear God, is one kid the focus of so many ailments? Because as strong as he is, some days it just takes one little email asking which kind of medicine, to send his mom off the deep end. Some days it just aches.

Life Isn't Fair

So, I've been a bit nervous the past few weeks. I have been awaiting my appointment with the neurologist after more tests in the hopes he would find the problem causing pain in my hand and arm and say: Yep, we can fix this!

Unfortunately, life is not quite as fair as we would all like it to be. Today I had my appointment. Today I wasn't told my problem could be healed. Today I feel a great disappointment in life.

Because of my situation and the intensity of my damages occurring during my accident, I have already been given all there is to give in making my arm more functional. The doctors in Czech Republic did everything right. And the fact I have as much use of my hand as I do is somewhat of a miracle. I look at these things realistically. Of course I am grateful for what I have, of course I am happy there were no mistakes made which left me handicapped. But, the fact remains that I am handicapped despite all the good that was achieved. And it stinks.

Instead of reoperating and likely creating additional problems, we're looking at pain management. Pain management to last a lifetime, which involves drugs that play with your body. The drug of choice is one developed originally for epiliepsy, but has been found to also help people manage nerve pain. It also boasts side effects of dizziness, concentration difficulties, sleepiness, weight gain, and stomach discomfort. The dizziness, concentration difficulties, and sleepiness are evident in the majority of users. So, it's a decision based on dealing with side effects versus pain.

How does one go from being a mom and wife able to do anything and having just a so-called normal life to being someone handicapped, living with pain, and unable to even catch a ball, cut toenails or tie shoes? How does life so flippantly change for the worse? In the blink of an eye, while on vacation, I have become another person. I have been granted the gift of life, but in exchange I have to compensate with a useless hand. It doesn't seem fair.

But what is fair? Is autism fair? Is living thousands of miles from family fair? Is being obese fair? No, life isn't fair. It's about taking what you've been dealt and doing the best you can and living as a good person through it all. It's about being grateful for having a chance to live your life, and making the most with the days you've been given. It's trying to remain patient when problems arise, and being proud when you get through without raising your voice. It's about wrapping those you love in tight hugs and showing them you love them, giving them respect regardless of whether you believe in their choices. And it's about hearing that though you may never have use of your hand again, you will still work hard to make the most use of it possible, and accept that though it may not be able to hold a glass or clasp a bra, it's still attached to your body and still moves. It's about dealing with the pain life throws our way.

So, though I haven't been given the hope I longed to hear, I have to look at this from a positive side. I can't dwell on the negative and let it overtake my life. I am what I am and I must move forward and be a success with what I have been given in life. I must go on, continue being a mom and a wife and be the best I can at those things which mean the most to me. Life isn't fair. But when a foul ball gets hit your way, you've still got to step up to the plate and do your best to catch it, hearing the cheers behind you that give you the courage to do what you gotta do.

Explode

I am at the point of nearly exploding. I feel as if I take another breath it's going to be the one that lets the dragon loose. I should leave the house and get some fresh air; remove myself from the danger zone. But I can't do that, fearful what should happen in my absence. I am totally on the edge, ready to jump off that highest bridge. I can't begin to describe how tense and tattered I feel. My muscles ache, my head is pounding, my mouth is dry. Physically I am aching. But even more painful is the fact that my spirit is crushed beyond recognition.

I feel ready to snap. The following word uttered shall be the one that crushes those sweet red cherries into a pulverized dripping mess in my hands. Cherry juice, pulp added...thick and red as blood.

My heart is beating, but feels as if it's boiling, bubbling up with every pump, leaving a fullness in my throat. If I swallow, it'll send the whole mess spilling over. I'm really not sure how much more I can take. This is not what I signed up for when I chose to be a mother and a wife. This is not what I wanted when I envisioned our little family of four. This is not the future my past presented to me, and the future I'm now envisioning won't be including me. The bridge is too close. The bile too burning.

The Day Plays Out

I stood at the reception counter and paid my bill. There was nobody in front of me, noone waiting behind me. Just me and the receptionist in this normally very busy doctor's office. A doctor's office where differing doctors are present on differing days, space rented to spread their service area, bring more specialty services to our local area. It's a place I have become a frequent visitor recently. It almost feels natural to head there, and I no longer need to say my name when I check in. They know me. It feels kind of relaxing, in a situation which is far from stress-free.

So, I paid my bill, zipped my wallet into my backpack, and headed out the door slinging my backpack over my shoulder. I didn't know what my plan was. I had taken the bus to the doctor's office, knowing I could catch another bus home, or walk. With the snow falling down leaving my covered in wetness, a a bite whipping through the breeze, I looked at my clock. 30 minutes til the bus arrived. What could I do in 30 minutes time?

I headed to the dentist to get my paperwork stamped which the dentist forgot to stamp at our last visit. She came out with her mask and gloves on and I heard the whirring of her equipment in the background. My mind was blank, but I smiled and asked about her new twins, then asked her to take care of this little task. I was out the door in two minutes.

I went into the pharmacy and paid the bill I owed, not giving Kaeden enough money to pay for his meds last time. I still owed 5,96, and when I went in, the pharmacist immediately went in search of his tucked away copy of the bill. "Yeah, Kaeden's medicine costs have gone up," he told me. I thanked him for turning over his medication anyway in good faith.

25 minutes til the bus arrives I thought. 2 minutes to walk to the stop. 23 minutes to go. My mind was still swarming. I couldn't concentrate and just wanted to go home. I needed to go home.

I walked into the store and grabbed a pair of socks to send to my niece. Socks are easy, just stick them in an envelope, no extra postage. I like socks since moving to Europe. A perfect little Ï'm thinking of you"gift. I grabbed a couple cards on my way to the checkout, and noticed a big bag of lolly-pops which Jari has been begging me to buy. So, I did. I added my loot to my backpack. I no longer carry a purse, but my backpack is always on stand-by for those little purchases, a bottle of water, and a pack of cookies in case Jari is with me. He gets cranky when he's hungry.

I looked at the clock above the optician. 9:33. The time was wrong, the hour way off base, the minutes exactly on. I had 10 minutes to go. I decided I'd just have to wait longer for the bus. I didn't have enough time to do anything else, so I started the short walk in the falling snow. It was falling in huge flakes, wet but not sticking. My hair became wet and the droplets fell from my jacket. I stood at the busstop, feeling the cold, my mind still swarming, yet nearly blank.

The bus arrived and I put my ticket into the reader. It took off 80 cents for my 4 minute ride, and I considered for a moment I should have just walked home. There were 4 other passengers, all elderly, and they watched me as I passed and the bus jaunted on it's way. I took my seat, thinking it barely paid to sit down. Yet I did, and then glanced out the misty windows. We stopped to pick up another passenger. He climbed onto the bus using his cane, and as he limped towards a seat, my eyes misted over, just as the windows on the bus. He's handicapped, I thought. Life isn't easy for him. He can't walk.

And then my thoughts turned back to the doctor's office, to my visit to the neurologist and the nerve tests I had just had done. I'm handicapped too. My hand is not healing. I have nerve damage, and muscle damage, and instead of getting better, it's turned for the worse.

And the blur looking out the window was misted over, and I wasn't sure if it was from the warm air hitting the cold bus windows, or the tears suddenly streaking down my own cheeks.

Legalities of Kids

So, Erwin and I are heading off on our first overseas vacation just the two of us. Though I'm looking forward to going and have made all the arrangements for the care of the kids while we're gone, we haven't yet completed the one task I feel pressured to do. We haven't taken care of the legal paperwork to ensure our kids are secure in the case something should happen and we should both die.

There are numerous reasons for this. First, I don't even want to consider dying, let alone leaving my children parentless. Second, I'm not entirely sure what I need to do legally. And third, our situation is so completely complicated, Erwin and I cannot come to a decision as to who to name as our children's guardians. Neither of us feel confident naming any of our friends or family members as guardians for our kids. It's not that we don't trust family members, and it's not that we don't think they'd keep our kids best interests at heart. But in this place where we have to make a choice of guardians for our children, to place their entire future in another's hands, is overwhelming and we feel completely and utterly alone. Not just me, not just him, but both of us. It's something we agree non regarding this subject of which we've discussed frequently the past number of weeks.

A typical choice would be our parents. One set or the other. However, both of our parents are aging and not in the best of health and we don't feel that we should strap them with the care of our children. When I see and hear how tired they are just keeping them for short visits, whether a day or a month, I know we cannot put the responsibility of raising our boys on them. They are simply too old to have to raise a young family again, and add an autistic child with special needs to the mix and it seems impossible.

We live in one country, my family lives in another (in which Jari has never named America home and it would be so difficult to take away all that is comfortable and normal to him in the face of losing his parents as well), and Erwin's family lives in yet another country. The logistics of this are daunting. Legally, there would be thousands of hurdles.

Our siblings would be another logical choice. However, we don't feel that saddling our brothers and sister with our kids is a possibility. Erwin's sister has chosen not to have children because she doesn't want them. We can't force someone who doesn't even want kids to take on the responsibility of our boys. My one brother and I don't have a strong relationship (though it has gotten better over the past year, it's not a relationship I could comfortably place my children) and we don't agree with their parenting choices, as they vary so greatly from our own. My youngest brother, though I love him dearly, I can't see him and his family being able to deal with all the conflicts that come with raising Kaeden. We know that all of our siblings would do the best they can for our boys, but we can't find any of them the best choice for our kids.

Friends: I have a number of close friends with whom we have considered. Some are our age, but have no children. Some are just not financially or mentally stable enough. Some we don't know well enough, others we don't think they'd be able to handle the addition of our boys. Other Family: There should be options here, but as we go through the list, the options seem to dwindle away. One of our main choices due to lifestyle, parenting choices, and knowing the boys would be loved and well cared for, is negated due to the acceptance of marijuana use in the home, which we don't feel right subjecting our children to.

Kaeden's autism certainly plays a major role in our difficulty with choosing. His autism creates additional financial and emotional burdens in which people would have to be able to accept and deal with. I sincerely do not know many people who could have this stress added to their lives and be okay with it. I need to know, without a doubt, that he would be loved and accepted and helped, and I don't know where to find that within or outside of our family, in the face of looking at a lifetime. Because with Kaeden, it is a lifetime, and not just until he's old enough to move out of the house like it would be for Jari.

Yesterday, as Erwin and I sat talking this through over coffee at the kitchen table, we both fell silent when Erwin suddenly commented that maybe the best would be for our children to become wards of the court and be placed in a foster family who would come to accept and love them as their own. We wouldn't burden others and the boys would be cared for. But we all know how fostering works and how children get thrown from place to place.

In the face of losing their parents, I don't want my children to also lose the love of family, close friends, and the comforts they have known their entire lives. I just cannot fathom what to do, and I am totally stressed about this decision. Most likely, we will never have to use our choice, most likely our children will not lose their parents...but the possibility does exist. What are we supposed to do? How can we make a decision that concerns not only the future of our kids, but of whoever takes on this responsibility? How can we ensure they will be loved? How can we ensure they remain together as brothers and don't lose parents, home and a brother?

I don't like having to consider this. But it's one of those jobs we signed up for without knowing it when we made the choice to become parents. And I believe that it's the least we can offer our children, ensuring them their security, if it does come to play in our lives. Now, how, where, and most importantly, WHO?

Haiti

Watching it all unfold on tv it is just so unreal to me. I am unable to physically place myself in the scene of the disaster, so mentally it doesn't quite hit the very core of me. It can't. I wasn't there, living through the shaking, the fear of buildings crumbling around me, the deep sadness as I passed dead bodies in every direction I looked. The disbelief that my home and my life has been stripped form me, from all of us.

But I do feel compassion and a pit of unrest deep inside of me. My eyes fill with tears at the thought of such a poor country being robbed of the little they had. Seeing the people struggling to survive, people, just like you and me, people who have to hang onto a little tiny shred of hope in order to just survive.

Yesterday in Holland was a big action calling for monetary help for Haiti. As I watched on tv I felt pride in the human race. Whatever downfalls we may all suffer through in our own lives, we still want to help, to give, to hope. The money rushed in, some people giving up their summer vacation to help those in need, others handing over a candy bar they wouldn't purchase with their lunch. It didn't matter how much or how little, people were coming together for a cause to make something right in the face of a storm...a big, disasterous storm.

I was a victim of an earthquake. When I was in my 20's living in LA, my own home collapsed during the Northridge Earthquake. Sleeping in my cozy bed feeling safe, I was suddenly thrown across the room with the glass of the window shattering at my feet, my mattress covering me in safety. My whimpering puppy lay next to me, and after the shock of it all, I went in search of my roommate. It was so dark and wherever you stepped you could feel pieces of your life crunching under your feet. We dressed with whatever we could manage to find and made our way outdoors with all the rest of the freaked out people. We still had no idea what had happened, but we knew that we were okay, we had survived, even if nothing else had.

In the coming weeks after the earthquake, living in temporary housing at a hotel paid for by FEMA, fearful of the aftershocks that kept coming, no longer being employed, no longer having a home or any belongings, I finally admitted defeat, leaving my California life behind me and returning to my family to accept their offers of help. I had survived an earthquake.

But, the death toll in my earthquake was minimal compared to the lost lives we are seeing today. I can empathize with the survivors of the earthquake on some level, but I never had to face all the deaths of my family members, friends, or common countrymen. I can't imagine, I don't want to imagine, and yet I see the pictures forcing me face to face with the devastation. It grips me, and I shudder. Yet I can't begin to imagine, can't begin to understand. Thankfully, this time I wasn't there in the midst.

This time, all I could do was make a small donation to help people in need, a country in need. And be just one face in a large crowd offering hope in the form of money, compassion in the form of silver and gold. It seems wrong, but it's all I can do. I am one of the millions who care, just one whose tiny offering has expanded to something that really can help. I pray for the dead, I pray for the survivors, and I continue to have hope. I offer them hope.

Here are a couple sites in which you can also offer hope:

American Red Cross (US): https://secure3.convio.net/arc3/site/Donation2?idb=0&df_id=1320&1320.donation=form1&s_src=RSG00100E002&s_subsrc=eopgov

Doctors Without Borders (US): https://donate.doctorswithoutborders.org/SSLPage.aspx?pid=197&hbc=1&source=ADR1001E1D01

Doctors Without Borders (Various Countries): http://doctorswithoutborders.org/donate/otheroffices.cfm

Samenwerkende Hulporganisaties (in Nederland): http://www.giro555.nl/nl-NL/default.aspx

The Bus Stop

Last week, Jari and I took the bus. We had a 20 minute layover before making our connection. It was cold and snowing so we huddled in the busstop with 4 other travellers. Everything was pretty normal. There were 2 high school girls there dressed in trendy clothes with cell phones and earphones hanging around their necks, one late 20's guy with a camo backpack and long ponytail, and another high school aged student, maybe 18ish, cleancut and looking just like any other typical teen.

I am a people watcher. And an eavesdropper. I find it so interesting to pick up bits of information about other people's lives and devise fantasy lives for them. So, I was listening to the girls discussing their math class, and one pulled out her book where she showed her friend her test. I could tell she was proud of the results, and though I wanted a closer look to see what she was studying and her grade, I held myself back and just listened.

Suddenly, the young man came to life. His voice boomed out through the enclosed bus house and shocked me with his loudness. As he spoke, his sentences were jumbled, his tone too high. He was extremely overexcited. He started telling the girl that his math was harder than hers and he is the best in math and....and and and. I didn't know it, but the girls knew the guy, probably from sharing busses or a class with him previously, and reacted as if there was nothing strange going on.

The 20-something guy had a little smirk on his face, and I think he was also a people watcher/eavesdropper. Jari looked up at me with his huge eyes, a slight smile on his lip. Quietly he asked when the bus was coming. The guy continued to shout about school and the cold and his bus schedule, all in what he considered a normal voice. At one point as he cursed about school, one of the girls asked him to watch his language and pointed at Jari. The guy answered Öh yeah"" and though he was still animated, I didn't hear him curse again.

The girls eventually put in their earphones trying to escape his energy. I was never involved in the conversation, but found it so interesting. His mannerisms, his voice, his obsession with bus times, his trying to fit in in a world where it doesn't come naturally. His bus was late, and he was cold and unhappy. He tried to make his point by discussing the politics of the bus company, yet he didn't really know what he was talking about, or if he did, he was having difficulty expressing it. As the girls tuned him out listening to music, he decided to copy their behavior and got out his own music player....but he had no headphones to silence the music for others. He turned on his jump music extra loud, holding his music player out so we could all see it, looking at all our faces to make sure we noticed he had one too. He started dancing to the music, quietly nodding his head at first and then his arms and eventually his legs dancing to the rhythm. The girls giggled, asking him what group it was. He didn't respond til his dance was done. As he realized their earphones were put away, he lowered the volume on his and started talking (shouting) again, this time about music. When a bus came through and stopped at another stop, he took off to ask the driver why his bus was so late.

The girls then watched him, like a hawk. They discussed his weirdness, his misunderstanding of how people are supposed to act, and their interest in whether he was just going to take another bus or catch the correct one when it arrived. The guy came sauntering back over when a disruption across the street captured all our attention. Some teen had knocked over an elderly lady's bike, and she was angry. The guy from our bus stop screamed over across the street: HEY, YOU TRYING TO BREAK THE OLD LADY'S BIKE? with a laugh. The old lady walked away gesturing her hands, the teens righted the bike laughing nervously, and we all breathed a sigh of relief. The girls then noticed another friend and they came over, all talking, as the guy forced his way into the conversataion in close proximity with the girls, though it was obvious he didn't know these new people.

The bus arrived. I was relieved. I don't know why I was relieved. Jari, whose hand was nestled safely in mine the past 10 minutes released my hold, and he spoke to me in a normal quiet tone, rather than the quiet whisper when the others were present. He was also relieved. All I could do was consider the guy...the kid who so wanted to be just another kid, who wanted to fit in, who wanted to have friends to talk about school with, who wanted to be cool...but who wasn't. He so reminded me of my own son, and I was so confused about how to feel.

On one hand, the kid was attending school, taking the bus on his own, and obviously managing it all okay. He was making small talk, even if not in the most accepted way, and he even asked for help when he was concerned about his own late bus. On the other hand, it was obvious he had some infliction, something just not quite right, something that set him apart and made him react in inappropriate ways. Was it autism? I don't know, but it most certainly COULD have been. He reminded me a LOT of Kaeden.

It was an eye-opening experience. I was pleased with the girls for treating him respectfully to his face, as well as teaching him social skills by asking him to tone down his language. Yet, when he left the bus stop, they laughed at him behind his back...a sure sign he was different.

When my own bus came, I stepped on, wondering about the guy, where he would go, what he'd tell his mom about his day. And I said a little prayer for him and my own son.

Winter Bits of Life

Just bits:

• Kaeden turns 15 (FIFTEEN) next week. It seems one of those marked ages. It makes mama feel old and Kaeden feel powerful. Maybe it's the 5's. Seems to me 5, 10, 15 all hit me with some kind of reality that my kids are changing, growing. Which, yeah, that's what I want them to do, but why so darn fast?
• I changed my layout again. Last night Erwin told me he can't even read my blog anymore. I had to agree. Somehow the color combo was all wrong, so we're onto this style for awhile. I change my blog as much as I'd like to change my life. I like change. It feels comforting and clean and gives me a new start. It isn't a character trait that makes living with autism easy, as change is exactly what Kaeden doesn't seem to need. So, if changing my blog layout gives me comfort without affecting him, it's a little piece of freedom.
• It's snowing again. I love the fresh beauty of snow, but this has gone on long enough now! When I was a kid, I lived for snowy days. I couldn't wait to ski and snowmobile and build snow huts and snowmen. Now, give me a few days of snow fun and it's enough. Especially being tied to bike transport which I cannot use in icy conditions one handed, this snow is making me feel a bit stir crazy.
• This country is unable to deal with the snow. It drives me nuts that traffic stands still for hours from these dustings. In Wyoming where I am from, there we get real snow and life goes on. People drive to work and go to school and life continues as normal. Here, it seems like it puts life into a frenzy. Maybe it's too many cars in too small an area, maybe it's not knowing how to live with these conditions...but whatever it is, it seems to be irritating me lately. Get a grip people...it's snow. Learn to live with it, and please quit telling me for 25 minutes every night on the news about all the traffic jams and accidents.
• I am so beyond homesick that my stomach is tied in knots. I'm feeling like a mental breakdown is nearing from it. I know that I will be heading to the states in just over a month, but it hurts my heart to pieces that Jari hasn't seen my parents in so freaking long. So, it's more like I'm feeling this huge guilty pressure that doesn't go away knowing that my son and my parents are being unallowed to share a bond. That hurts me to my very core. If I could let Jari see my parents instead of going myself, I would forsake the much needed hugs to give myself piece of mind knowing that my son knows his grandparents. It's so important to me, and I feel like I am failing.
• My husband and I seem to be stuck in some kind of non-communication mode. I hate when we go through this. Erwin doesn't notice it, but to me it feels as if our relationship is falling to pieces. Maybe it has more to do with my own inner struggles and I am more needy for him and his attention, which I don't feel I am getting enough of. He tells me that every year at this time I feel this way. That may be true, maybe it comes around this time when I miss my home and family the most, but then I need him to recognize that I need more from him and take charge. He fails to do so. Last night our conversation went like this: Erwin mutters something, I say "Were you talking to me?" He says "No" I say "Why not?" He says "I am watching tv." And then I start to cry because I wonder why he wasn't talking to me, why tv is more important than me, why our life seems to have become something we both take for granted, why we can't enjoy each other more, why we can't make each other a priority. But instead of telling him this, I stay quiet and go to bed. The wall between us is back, and it feels thicker than ever. I need it to shatter.
• My housekeeper came to help out Tuesday. I only have her help three hours in the week now as we can't afford more. She showed up and told me her mother-in-law is dying from cancer, and should be gone sometime during the week. It was only the first week of December they discovered she had cancer. It is into her bones and blood and she's living her last days injected with morphine in the hospital. My housekeeper started to cry and I hugged her tight, telling her I'm sorry, it will all be okay. How can you comfort someone when they are losing a mother? Anja has become somewhat of a friend to me, and it didn't feel at all odd hugging my housekeeper, it just felt right and good. I hope it's a long time before I have to go through death in my family. I know life is fragile, I've learned just how fragile when I nearly lost my own life this summer, but I don't want to deal with death.
• Last night at our women's club New Year's get together (just the board, of which I am a member with 5 other ladies), there was a secret Santa gift exchange. Somehow my name was left out. As everyone shared their gifts, I realized I wasn't going to be getting anything. It hit me odd. I wasn't at all upset, just felt once again like I was the outsider, that even in something as simple as a gift exchange I am apart from the group. Now, I may not be the most open person in the world, I may be somewhat private and a bit closed off, but I have tried to become a part of life here. It doesn't happen easily. It takes a lot of work and a lot of energy. And yet, I'm still an outsider, still on the edge looking in. Getting no gift was a mistake, or wasn't it?
• Our car is giving us fits. When we bought it we had hoped to get 4-5 years out of it before looking for another. This car hasn't been good to us. In just 2 1/2 years we've already put quite a bit of money into it, and now something else is wrong again. Erwin thinks it may be the gear box, which is the reason we got rid of our last car. 1500 euro is a lot to put into a car you don't know you'll have a lot of life from. So, do we fork out more money fixing it, or take the plunge (yes, a plunge it will be, and probably result in being unable to go to America for the summer)and get something more reliable? I guess we need to take it to the garage first and hear the verdict. Maybe it's nothing big. But the sound it's making sure doesn't sound very promising.
• December 18th as Erwin was driving home from a work party, a 19-year-old drunk kid ran across the street in the middle of a green light and hit our car with his body as Erwin was driving. The kid's body dented up our car and we couldn't even use the driver door until we allowed the garage to internally open the lock. We chose not to fix the damages, but just fix it enough to allow the door to open. The kid was brought to the hospital with a concussion and wounds to his knee and scrapes all over his body, but went home and is thankfully doing okay. What a mess this is, having to deal with all the insurance stuff becasue some kid drank so much that he didn't know what he was doing. I hope he learned a lesson from this accident which could have ended much more tragically. Tonight Erwin has to go to his home to finish filling out paperwork and reports, and I hope that it goes okay and some agreement is achieved. I hope the kid learned a valuable lesson, but kids think they are invincible. I did too, at that age. I did some stupid things back then. I made it out alive. I hope the kid does too.

So, that's a few bits of life at this moment. It's winter, what can I say? I'm doing my best to keep my attitude in check and my spirits high, but it's winter...and winter does this to me.