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.
Morning, afternoon, evening or night...life is always happening. Let me tell you what's happening in mine.
Showing posts with label All About Me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label All About Me. Show all posts
6.08.2012
6.03.2012
Girlfriends
I smiled, I laughed, and then I cried. Tears of acceptance through the raw emotion of truth. She came to me, wrapped her arms around me, and the nervous laughter replaced the tears, until tears of her own began to fall, the reality of more raw emotion.
Girlfriends, those women in my life with whom I share intimate and personal stories, the women who dare not lie to me, but bring me freedom in telling the bitter truth, no matter how much it hurts.
My very best friend in life too far away to share the truth of my everyday existence, oh how I miss her. It is in these moments that I recognize how very much distance does matter, how a phone call cannot bring me the same feeling of reality I crave from being within the same space, a personal space. She can no longer wipe away my tears, encompass me in a hug, tell me it will all be okay in the truth of her glance into my eyes. I miss her, my best friend. I miss what we have shared, what brought me the joy of having a best female friend, someone I have come to love more deeply than if I had been given the gift of a sister. She is a treasure to me, but a treasure just a bit too far away to fully share in my world. No less important, maybe even more so, but the miles between us are tangible.
I have made new friends, been given the gift of friendship yet again. I have opened my heart, my past and my future, and shared stories of triumph and struggle. She looked deep into my eyes as I spoke, a broken soul with a history being honest and sincere, and her eyes never left mine, bored into my soul, allowing me to grieve in a safe place. She is my friend, a person with whom I can be me and through it all, it will be okay.
We spoke of our husbands, of my children, of our childhoods and of religion. We talked about spirituality and what it means to us, about simple things like food we eat and clothes we like to wear. We discussed secrets we have been unable to share before in our relationship, our friendship. We reached another level of trust, I allowed her into my safe place inside, and she opened her heart to me.
We grabbed another cocktail concoction, green and blue, snacked on some goodies in bowls on the table, the lights dimmed low and music playing in the background. And we shared this space, these treasured hours in time, deep into the morning hours as we yawned and our eyes became sleepy, and we felt friendship, safety, trust and security. My girlfriend and I, this person I have chosen to allow into my life, this friend I chose to be mine, this person who has become my sister, my family.
I smiled, I laughed and then I cried. And though it all, she was present, and I know she will always be so, a present in my life, my friend.
Girlfriends, those women in my life with whom I share intimate and personal stories, the women who dare not lie to me, but bring me freedom in telling the bitter truth, no matter how much it hurts.
My very best friend in life too far away to share the truth of my everyday existence, oh how I miss her. It is in these moments that I recognize how very much distance does matter, how a phone call cannot bring me the same feeling of reality I crave from being within the same space, a personal space. She can no longer wipe away my tears, encompass me in a hug, tell me it will all be okay in the truth of her glance into my eyes. I miss her, my best friend. I miss what we have shared, what brought me the joy of having a best female friend, someone I have come to love more deeply than if I had been given the gift of a sister. She is a treasure to me, but a treasure just a bit too far away to fully share in my world. No less important, maybe even more so, but the miles between us are tangible.
I have made new friends, been given the gift of friendship yet again. I have opened my heart, my past and my future, and shared stories of triumph and struggle. She looked deep into my eyes as I spoke, a broken soul with a history being honest and sincere, and her eyes never left mine, bored into my soul, allowing me to grieve in a safe place. She is my friend, a person with whom I can be me and through it all, it will be okay.
We spoke of our husbands, of my children, of our childhoods and of religion. We talked about spirituality and what it means to us, about simple things like food we eat and clothes we like to wear. We discussed secrets we have been unable to share before in our relationship, our friendship. We reached another level of trust, I allowed her into my safe place inside, and she opened her heart to me.
We grabbed another cocktail concoction, green and blue, snacked on some goodies in bowls on the table, the lights dimmed low and music playing in the background. And we shared this space, these treasured hours in time, deep into the morning hours as we yawned and our eyes became sleepy, and we felt friendship, safety, trust and security. My girlfriend and I, this person I have chosen to allow into my life, this friend I chose to be mine, this person who has become my sister, my family.
I smiled, I laughed and then I cried. And though it all, she was present, and I know she will always be so, a present in my life, my friend.
5.08.2012
Freedom
Freedom. I felt it. My mind was empty of all worries and my soul felt like it could fly. Freedom. I could taste it. I could feel it. I was alive.
Such a simple thing we too often take for granted. Hop in the car and run get groceries or run to the bank or, oh yeah, i forgot to get salt...hup, in the car, turn the key and seconds later you have what you need. Driving brings with it freedom and simplicity. Everything is easy when it takes no effort to achieve, which having a car affords us.
I miss driving. I mean, I sincerely miss it. Whenever I used to feel down or discouraged or happy or high, I'd jump in my car, turn on some music depending on my mood, and drive...sometimes to my favorite quiet spot, sometimes shopping, sometimes just take whichever road I first passed. It always made me feel good, driving, especially out on open Wyoming roads.
Since living in Europe, having a car has been a luxury in place of a necessity. The first year I lived in Nederland, I had no vehicle. I did have a bike and public transport, and came to rely upon both to get me where I needed to go. When I was in active labor with Jari, we got our first car. Erwin still took the train to work and I had use of the car, but still tended to bike or walk, especially with a newborn and stroller, it was easier to just walk. But, still, the car was always at my beckoning call, and I was free to use it at my every whim.
When we moved to Belgium, the car came with us. Erwin's transportation became a bus service which left at the ungodly hour of 5:30am, but he was always home early. I still had the car, and it became useful for me as I explored our new home, Belgium, Limburg, as well as keeping in touch with old friends in Holland. In our corner of Belgium, public transport is present (busses, no train), and it's round the clock available, but getting places is almost a chore. In what would be a 20 minute drive, it takes me more than an hour by bus. Just saying...
But back then, I still had the car and was still free to come and go as needed, though I still used my bike for the short distance trips, as I came to discover biking is 1) enjoyable 2) fast 3) gives no parking headache 4) cheaper and 5) healthy. But on those gray and rainy Belgian days (many) I could still turn the key and come out on the other side safe and dry.
And then, Erwin's bus service quit running. He needed the car for work, to provide for our family. It was a necessity for him, and my luxury was stripped from me. In the blink of an eye, my freedom was gone. Having a car is freedom, and nobody can tell me differently. Hop on a bike and feel the wind on your face, yes, it too is freedom, but limited....
And so, I have become a passenger in life where I used to be a driver. I no longer have transportation to allow me freedom, which I have had since my 16th birthday...
and I have felt crippled without a car.
And Saturday, I had the car, I had the music, I had my two boy passengers and I had freedom. And boy, did it feel good.
Such a simple thing we too often take for granted. Hop in the car and run get groceries or run to the bank or, oh yeah, i forgot to get salt...hup, in the car, turn the key and seconds later you have what you need. Driving brings with it freedom and simplicity. Everything is easy when it takes no effort to achieve, which having a car affords us.
I miss driving. I mean, I sincerely miss it. Whenever I used to feel down or discouraged or happy or high, I'd jump in my car, turn on some music depending on my mood, and drive...sometimes to my favorite quiet spot, sometimes shopping, sometimes just take whichever road I first passed. It always made me feel good, driving, especially out on open Wyoming roads.
Since living in Europe, having a car has been a luxury in place of a necessity. The first year I lived in Nederland, I had no vehicle. I did have a bike and public transport, and came to rely upon both to get me where I needed to go. When I was in active labor with Jari, we got our first car. Erwin still took the train to work and I had use of the car, but still tended to bike or walk, especially with a newborn and stroller, it was easier to just walk. But, still, the car was always at my beckoning call, and I was free to use it at my every whim.
When we moved to Belgium, the car came with us. Erwin's transportation became a bus service which left at the ungodly hour of 5:30am, but he was always home early. I still had the car, and it became useful for me as I explored our new home, Belgium, Limburg, as well as keeping in touch with old friends in Holland. In our corner of Belgium, public transport is present (busses, no train), and it's round the clock available, but getting places is almost a chore. In what would be a 20 minute drive, it takes me more than an hour by bus. Just saying...
But back then, I still had the car and was still free to come and go as needed, though I still used my bike for the short distance trips, as I came to discover biking is 1) enjoyable 2) fast 3) gives no parking headache 4) cheaper and 5) healthy. But on those gray and rainy Belgian days (many) I could still turn the key and come out on the other side safe and dry.
And then, Erwin's bus service quit running. He needed the car for work, to provide for our family. It was a necessity for him, and my luxury was stripped from me. In the blink of an eye, my freedom was gone. Having a car is freedom, and nobody can tell me differently. Hop on a bike and feel the wind on your face, yes, it too is freedom, but limited....
And so, I have become a passenger in life where I used to be a driver. I no longer have transportation to allow me freedom, which I have had since my 16th birthday...
and I have felt crippled without a car.
And Saturday, I had the car, I had the music, I had my two boy passengers and I had freedom. And boy, did it feel good.
1.30.2012
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...
7.25.2011
The Life of 40
Wow, it has been a long time since I have written. Every day I think, "I need to blog about this." But it just never happens. However, life has been happening. And the past number of weeks have been magnificent and good in every single way. I turned forty. I am now officially Óver The Hill' but if being over the hill means having what I have had as of late, I am happy I am here.
First, Jari and I went on our trip to London. It was, without a doubt, one of the most amazing vacations I could have imagined. I got to see my parents and my gramma, and I witnessed the reuniting of two elderly sisters whose love can be touched and made every one of my senses alive. I realized that even being far away in Europe, I have extended family fairly close by and they are all people I can turn to in times of need. They were very welcoming and hospitable and I sincerely enjoyed getting to know them more. And then, Jari and I explored London on our own for two days which was pure enjoyment from dawn til dusk with my little man. Never have I enjoyed him as much as on those two days we shared together, It was a trip I will always hold very close to my heart. When on top of the London eye, my little boy gave me a riddle to solve: "Mama" he said with two thumbs pointed in the air. "Who is somehwere here that has two thumbs and is having the vacation of a lifetime?" he asked. And as I looked at him again, he tilted his thumbs to point at himself and yelled out "ME!" And the delight in his eyes at everything surrounding him and the feeling of his hand in mine as we toured the city will be etched in my mind forever.
Party Number One: With my English family, my son, my parents and my grandmother in our little Roydon vacation house. Streamers complete with 40 decorating our little bungalow, cups of strong, hot tea, and a cake made out of muffins. A birthday Sunday traditional dinner at Morehen "Horse" restaurant complete with Knickerbocker Glory, and then a gift given to me which was like a treasured piece of heaven. A book, made of handcrafted wood boards made by my brother, a gold plaque stating 40 Years of Tera's Memories, and pages filled with photos, messgaes of love, old cards and pictures, baby announcements, awards I accomplished, and the wristband from the hospital when I was born. It was a gift that brought tears to my eyes and made the trip totally complete.
Friday evening, after our trip, Jari and I were playing Lord of the Rings on Playstation when the doorbell rang. I sent Jari downstairs to see who it was and he climbed back up telling me I needed to go down. When I opened the door, 30 people were standing there yelling Surprise and singing Happy Birthday to me, in English. The soccer club had placed the coveted door before my house, with a poem about my life and photos of me welcoming me into the 40 Club. In Belgium, it is tradition to have an old door placed in front of your home every 10 years starting at 30. This was a gift to me. It made me feel as if my life here in Belgium is complete, as if I have been welcomed here and accepted and am now óne of the club'. The poem they wrote showed me that my activities and life in Belgium are numerous when all stacked together in a poem, and that I have found my niche living in this faraway home. What my soccer friends did for me, they will never know, but it really gave me a place where I felt competely home.
Party Number Two: Soccer friends and kids running amuck playing hide and seek, adults conversing with beer and coke and bowls of chips in our humble backyard.
Saturday, breakfast with my guys complete with a vase filled with 40 red roses from my husband and gifts hidden in the yard by my son (a poem written completely by him, he also has a gift for words, and a little paper-created city) before heading off to Helmond Sport stadium for Open Day. My son goes through the soccer circuit, scoring high points. He looks good out there on the field, and my husband and I watch and cheer him on. We buy jerseys for an amazing price of €1 each worn by the players in the previous season. It's a fun afternoon, only just beginning, because my in-laws hosted a birthday dinner for me at their place. Jari and Erwin and Oma made me a fruit cake when we arrived, and we ate it up upon completion, yum! I got some gifts, the highlight being a piece of paper. Written on it was a gift certificate for a trip to Paris! Which is already reserved and arranged for a 3 day adventure this coming weekend. Wow! My sister-in-law came with reading glasses and a guide book for Paris, as well as some spending money. Have I ever said how much my in-laws mean to me, how grateful I am to them for giving me family and love and support? For making me feel special? I think I have said it many times in the past, but it remains strong to this day. They knew I wanted to visit Paris, and they are making that dream happen, for me.
Party Number Three: At oma and opa's house with Ilse and Michel, Tante Ricky and Ome Karel, Omam, Opap, and us. I arrived to find balloons and streamers decoratin the walkway to their home, along with signs stating all the reasons 40 is so great (botox, reading glasses, etc) complete with pictures of Moi! A delicious gourmet dinner, bottles of wine, and good conversation. And they did it all at my request for me. And it touched my heart.
Sunday, slept in late and woke up to get things ready. Party Number Four just around the corner, a BBQ for friends hosted by us. The weather wasn't helpful and we had to shuffle stuff around, and my husband helped to create a wonderful little BBQ world in rain-filled skies. The food was good and way too plentiful (as always), and my home was filled with friends and laughter and stories of life. I received another gift, another gift that cannot be replaced and will always touch me deeply. A photo book of my life, pictures of me growing up and now, with friends and family, me smiling and being goofy (and even a little naughty). And on those pages were also letters written to me by all these people I have crossed paths with in my life, people I have come to know and many of whom have become a second family to me. These pages filled my heart with joy. In my 40 years here on earth, I have found a good mix, a good balance, and a good basis for a wonderful life. I have been truly blessed, and from the words on those pages I have also blessed others with my presence. It is a special gift to know you have touched others lives, and this book was testament that I have. I had to put my book down to collect myself as tears filled my eyes. I am loved, oh so loved, and by so many people. What a wonderful gift.
Party Number....nope, no more parties. 40 has come and will remain til 41, and with it I have realized what a gift my life is. I am blessed, truly. Life is a party. You have to bring out the party hats and streamers and make each day alive, find that sunshine and make it glow. I think 40 has given me another new start, a place to start fresh knowing my life is complete (even tho I miss my other son who is loving every minute of his vacation in America!). Happy Birthday to me, and Thank you to all of you in it with me. Much love!
11.27.2010
Thanksgiving
My boys are tucked into bed without a single bit of difficulty. My husband made it safely home after a dinner party with colleagues after work. There is a baked pie cooling on the counter and jello thickening in the fridge. I have a menu ready and placemats painted. Little turkeys made of egg cartons are awaiting their place next to each place setting. My kitchen floor is soiled like never before, and my dishwasher chose today to quit working...when nearly every dish in the house needs a washing.
Today I am calm and centered. It is a special day. Yesterday Thanksgiving passed with nary a second glance. I spent the day with my American girlfriend, shopping, talking, and completing our day with turkey sandwiches. Last night I read Jari the story of the first Thanksgiving. But it was just another day, really. Today, I started out shopping for women's party gifts discussing what Black Friday means to someone who has never heard of it. I came home to make lunch for my son, did some surfing online, and completed my crossguard duties. Then, I started gathering Thanksgiving supplies, collecting items stored from the attic, moving furniture, looking up recipes and gatehring ingredients. And when my boys were home from school, we started working together, all three of us, their excitement catching as music played on MTV.
Decorations were hung, couches moved, tables put together and washed vigorously. They couldn't stop talking about Thanksgiving and most importantly, sharing the day with their friends. Each boy was allowed to invite one friend this year. Both chose and can't wait to share this special day, expand their Belgian friends worlds to include a little something from America. Another piece of them, unknown to the world within our reach. Finding out just a bit more about who they are through this tradition I have passed onto them. A piece of America, a piece of us, within these European boundaries.
Today, though the work has been aplenty, I feel a sense of achievement. As we prepare for our Thanksgiving celebration, a bit later than the actual day itself, I stand back and look at the works I have completed. I am thankful for these two boys in my presence, who though they drive me crazy and cause me worry beyond belief, have also allowed this sense of importance to forge through. Though I'm not even sure they realize it, this celebration is more than just a celebration of Thanksgiving. It is a celebration of their heritage, that little piece they have yet to discover and understand. The piece of me I have worked so hard to carry through to them. I am thankful that I have succeeded. That they are excited to share this with their friends. That it is also important to them.
Surrounding me are people I love and care for. This year, there are two new faces to add to our crowd. Two new faces to accept my boys as this other side shines through. Tomorrow our celebration will begin by being thankful for this opportunity to raise awareness. Awareness of differences. Awareness of something we don't understand. And accepting and celebrating that which we learn. Happy Thanksgiving.
Today I am calm and centered. It is a special day. Yesterday Thanksgiving passed with nary a second glance. I spent the day with my American girlfriend, shopping, talking, and completing our day with turkey sandwiches. Last night I read Jari the story of the first Thanksgiving. But it was just another day, really. Today, I started out shopping for women's party gifts discussing what Black Friday means to someone who has never heard of it. I came home to make lunch for my son, did some surfing online, and completed my crossguard duties. Then, I started gathering Thanksgiving supplies, collecting items stored from the attic, moving furniture, looking up recipes and gatehring ingredients. And when my boys were home from school, we started working together, all three of us, their excitement catching as music played on MTV.
Decorations were hung, couches moved, tables put together and washed vigorously. They couldn't stop talking about Thanksgiving and most importantly, sharing the day with their friends. Each boy was allowed to invite one friend this year. Both chose and can't wait to share this special day, expand their Belgian friends worlds to include a little something from America. Another piece of them, unknown to the world within our reach. Finding out just a bit more about who they are through this tradition I have passed onto them. A piece of America, a piece of us, within these European boundaries.
Today, though the work has been aplenty, I feel a sense of achievement. As we prepare for our Thanksgiving celebration, a bit later than the actual day itself, I stand back and look at the works I have completed. I am thankful for these two boys in my presence, who though they drive me crazy and cause me worry beyond belief, have also allowed this sense of importance to forge through. Though I'm not even sure they realize it, this celebration is more than just a celebration of Thanksgiving. It is a celebration of their heritage, that little piece they have yet to discover and understand. The piece of me I have worked so hard to carry through to them. I am thankful that I have succeeded. That they are excited to share this with their friends. That it is also important to them.
Surrounding me are people I love and care for. This year, there are two new faces to add to our crowd. Two new faces to accept my boys as this other side shines through. Tomorrow our celebration will begin by being thankful for this opportunity to raise awareness. Awareness of differences. Awareness of something we don't understand. And accepting and celebrating that which we learn. Happy Thanksgiving.
9.09.2010
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.
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.
4.27.2010
A Medicated World
I am feeling old. It seems like the past year I have aged more than in any previous period of my life. I no longer feel like a spring chicken ready to go out and play, but more like an old hen pecking away trying to just get through the day.
This new medication I am taking to relieve the nerve pain I have in my hand and arm is working. The discomfort has subsided some, though not completely, but I am hesitant to say that it is working, as the side effects of this medication are numerous. If the nerve damage remains but the discomfort is relieved, BUT I easily sleep 16 hours/day (not an exaggeration), I fall into doors and walls because I have no balance, I can't focus because everything is fuzzy, and I have a near always stomachache, is the medication then working? Thse are the side effects of a medication to help relieve nerve damage.
I feel like I am in a never-ending spiral of health issues. I now need to return to physical therapy 3 days/week (that's nearly a part-time job in itself, by the time I get there, do therapy, and get home), take pills twice a day, and deal with the side effects knowing that it's not actually a cure for my hand, but a lifelong sentence to just control the discomfort that arises from nerve damage. I don't want a control, I want a cure. It feels unfair. I just want to be able to use my hand without pain. But that's too much to ask. A stupid sink and God's mysterious plan took that luxury away from me.
I am whining, yes. I have that right, as this medication I am on also has that side-effect. Being cranky and irritable and blowing up at those around you for no reason at all. Just ask my family members how much fun I am to be around. One day I can't sit still and get a single thing done as I flitter around trying to concentrate and then sit down and my eyes immediately close to block out the fuzz, but then my head falls as I head to slumberland. And the next day, having used so much energy the day before, I can't even get up or I fall over from a dizzy spell, if I can manage to wake up enough to get up at all.
It's no fun. And though I am going to hang on and finish this out for the five weeks until my next doctor visit, I cannot see this as being an option for the remainder of my life. It is doing it's job half-heartedly in controlling the nerve pain, but my life has become a misery. Nope, not for me. Onto the next option, whatever that may be. Or else I'll just live with it (it being the discomfort and pain), because I certainly can't live with it (it being the pain medication).
This accident and the handicap that has been left behind, my so-called hand and arm, have absolutely aged me this past year. I may be nearing the big 4-0, but lately it feels more like the 6-0. I can whine and cry and throw a fit, because this is my life, this is it. And it feels like a big huge lump of a disappointment. Life isn't so much fun.
Taking this medication and having a handicap has also opened my eyes to how Kaeden must feel. I wonder how his medication affects him. Does it cause him to feel dizzy, to feel off kilter, to have a fuzz filtering out the world? Does he hate it when people ask about his autism, or bring up the fact he has autism? Does he just wish it would all go away and he could just be? I have always wondered how he feels, as he isn't all that open to discussion about such things (he is unable to vocalize these kinds of issues). Being able to see life through a handicapped, drug-induced haze, I can only hope his life looks mosr positive than mine. I may be whining, but really, this is just NO FUN!
This new medication I am taking to relieve the nerve pain I have in my hand and arm is working. The discomfort has subsided some, though not completely, but I am hesitant to say that it is working, as the side effects of this medication are numerous. If the nerve damage remains but the discomfort is relieved, BUT I easily sleep 16 hours/day (not an exaggeration), I fall into doors and walls because I have no balance, I can't focus because everything is fuzzy, and I have a near always stomachache, is the medication then working? Thse are the side effects of a medication to help relieve nerve damage.
I feel like I am in a never-ending spiral of health issues. I now need to return to physical therapy 3 days/week (that's nearly a part-time job in itself, by the time I get there, do therapy, and get home), take pills twice a day, and deal with the side effects knowing that it's not actually a cure for my hand, but a lifelong sentence to just control the discomfort that arises from nerve damage. I don't want a control, I want a cure. It feels unfair. I just want to be able to use my hand without pain. But that's too much to ask. A stupid sink and God's mysterious plan took that luxury away from me.
I am whining, yes. I have that right, as this medication I am on also has that side-effect. Being cranky and irritable and blowing up at those around you for no reason at all. Just ask my family members how much fun I am to be around. One day I can't sit still and get a single thing done as I flitter around trying to concentrate and then sit down and my eyes immediately close to block out the fuzz, but then my head falls as I head to slumberland. And the next day, having used so much energy the day before, I can't even get up or I fall over from a dizzy spell, if I can manage to wake up enough to get up at all.
It's no fun. And though I am going to hang on and finish this out for the five weeks until my next doctor visit, I cannot see this as being an option for the remainder of my life. It is doing it's job half-heartedly in controlling the nerve pain, but my life has become a misery. Nope, not for me. Onto the next option, whatever that may be. Or else I'll just live with it (it being the discomfort and pain), because I certainly can't live with it (it being the pain medication).
This accident and the handicap that has been left behind, my so-called hand and arm, have absolutely aged me this past year. I may be nearing the big 4-0, but lately it feels more like the 6-0. I can whine and cry and throw a fit, because this is my life, this is it. And it feels like a big huge lump of a disappointment. Life isn't so much fun.
Taking this medication and having a handicap has also opened my eyes to how Kaeden must feel. I wonder how his medication affects him. Does it cause him to feel dizzy, to feel off kilter, to have a fuzz filtering out the world? Does he hate it when people ask about his autism, or bring up the fact he has autism? Does he just wish it would all go away and he could just be? I have always wondered how he feels, as he isn't all that open to discussion about such things (he is unable to vocalize these kinds of issues). Being able to see life through a handicapped, drug-induced haze, I can only hope his life looks mosr positive than mine. I may be whining, but really, this is just NO FUN!
3.16.2010
Relationships
I have been thinking a lot lately about the relationships with men and boys I have had throughout my life. Though I haven't had many long-term relationships, I've had a share that have brought me to a certain knowledge about what being involved means. And I also realize that many of my relationships throughout life have been on a long-distance scale, which is something I have to conclude is easier for me. I can get to know someone quite personally without the face-to-face confrontation. And I suppose, that's also the reason those various said relationships failed. The excitement at being with someone is replaced by the excitement of receiving that next letter or card, or in today's world, email. And as the letters, calls, or emails dwindle, so does the passion that stood in the relationship. Without the presence, the need wears thinner until it is suddenly gone. And without the repurcusions of a face-to-face break-up, it falls away much easier.
Throughout junior high I had a couple boys I "dated". Dated being a very loose term, as we held hands in the hallway at school and he walked me to my classes. This was the point I had my first experience with a long-term relationship. His name was Justin and I had known him when he lived in Laramie, but he had moved to Florida. It was then that we began writing and discovering what it meant to be 'in love' through our letters. I can still remember awaiting his next card in the mailbox as I would scurry to my bedroom and sit there opening it up as if it were a treasure. But, kids will be kids, and eventually no more cards came. And that was that.
Towards the end of junior high and my transition year into highschool, I dated Mark. We spent hours upon hours through the summer at the baseball park. During my time with him, I learned about kissing and touching and sexual tension. And I learned about what boys can do to a girl's self-esteem when all they really wanted all along was one thing: sex.
In high school I was one of the kids from a great mix of friends, but never fit into any one group. I never got close to anyone, really, though I would consider my DECA and Newspaper clubs as having the most influence over me during this time. I never really went to parties or movies or out with the crowd. But even so, I came to be involved with a guy from the tech school, Tracey. He was older and my parents disapproved of him. The reason was because he was a techer, and far too old (19) for their little (16) girl. I snuck around to see Tracey, and spent hours helping him fix up his cool car. We had a good time together, and were even allowed to go roller-skating with a group on ocassion. My parents didn't know about all the other time I spent with him. Our relationship fizzled as spring turned to summer and he went back home to Montana after his semester.
When I was in my last year of high school, I was involved in another long-distance relationship with Pablo. He didn't live so very far, and we managed to see each other fairly regularly when I took the bus to meet my girlfriend, who was his cousin. When I got my own car, I was even allowed to go there to visit. I don't think my parents understood how romantically involved we were. They knew I was planning to marry him and be with him forever, but it was just puppy love in their eyes. We kept in touch via phone and mail, hanging onto those few in-life meetings we had in between. Pablo could barely speak English, but at that time my Spanish was quite fluent and we communicated easily. We joked that ours was the language of love. Until I suddenly realized the language of love couldn't exist without us speaking a common language, and eventually he gave up and moved back to Mexico.
In my first year of college I still lived in Laramie, but moved into an apartment with 3 other girls. I met Rob as he lay in the middle of the main street through town in the middle of the night. My girlfriends and I were headed home after a night at the bar and I had been drinking. I called out to the driver to "Stop. Is that guy laying there dead?" And we stopped and helped him up and brought him home (funny, he was also a techer), but I never went home that night. We stayed and partied some more with Rob and his friends (yes, he was also drunk), and I even stayed with him the next day when everyone finally went their own ways. We managed to spend a lot of time together in the coming weeks and I couldn't help but fall for him even though I knew he would be leaving Laramie after his exams from tech school. He went home to Connecticut, but him and I stayed in touch for the better part of 4 years. When I moved to New York as a nanny (yes, knowing he would be close to me again), we even managed to get together, and our phone calls lasted hundreds of hours each month. We had a really free and easy relationship. Nothing permanent, nothing promised, but quite intense all the same. Rob joined the Coast Guard and after I got pregnant with Kaeden, Rob found the girl he would marry, and we didn't keep in touch after that.
Rick was my next involvement. He was someone I knew from high school as he fawned after me even back then. When I had moved back to Laramie after having gone to New York and then California, Rick came into where I worked and asked me out. He was recently divorced with two kids, and though I wasn't interested in him as more than a friend, I still agreed to go out. I think my self-esteem must have been at an all-time low, because he used his charm and managed to become a permanent fixture in my life. So permanent, that when I moved out of my prarents home, he helped me move, but never left. This was the beginning of realizing I was trapped in some kind of hell. He was mean and demanding and abusive and managed to estarnge me from my family and friends. I have no idea why I didn't leave him, other than I was scared and didn't have enough courage to go. And that's when I discovered I was pregnant. Our relationship was very rocky and at one time in my pregnancy he tried to kill my baby by jumping on my stomach. I went to the hospital and was checked in to keep track of contractions as well as administer fluids. Though I didn't allow him back into our home after that, we still saw each other. When Kaeden was born, he wasn't present, but came into and out of our lives for a short period after his birth. When Kaeden was an infant he threw a box of canned vegetables on the bed, hitting Kaeden, and from that moment on it was the end of my life with Rick. I moved away from Laramie to protect myself and my baby, and though he stalked us and there were a few incidents of terror, he was never again a part of our lives.
And then, fast forward 3 years. The computer age. ICQ. And the meeting of my next and final involvement, Erwin. I met Eagle on the first night after installing a modem on my new second-hand computer. He was from Holland. I was doing a school unit on Holland. He was called Eagle. I had recently hit an eagle with my truck and damaged the front window, as well as received a scar on my wrist. It was fate. We chatted off and on for a couple months, until suddenly something switched and he became my life. Once our relationship started to evolve, there was no stopping us. Another long-distance relationship. Yet, this one had me more thn head-over-heels. There was something extra, something special which drove me into a state of complete happiness. As we chatted, and eventually shared phone calls (lots of them) and spent fortunes in postage, my dutch prince was coming for a visit. And from that first visit, we've never since been apart (other than via the ocean which separated us). When Kaeden and I moved to Holland in 200o to join our family together, it was all I had dreamed of. And when Jari came along a year later, our little family was complete. We married knowing that it was the end to all future relationships, and I was completely content with this scenario.
There have been ups and downs throughout my life with Erwin, but the ups far outweigh the downs. As far as men are concerned, he is someone I can always count on, he is supportive in my desires and needs, and he gives me a sense of security. I still get those butterfly tingles when I see him walking towards me and our life together has become comfortable and gratifying. Sometimes I need to stand back, when the going gets tough, and remember my past, the people I have been involved with, and the present that is mine. Because no matter how difficult things seem to be, we still have each other, and we vowed to love one another no matter what problems come to stand in our way. And love him, I do. Ours is no longer a long-distance relationship easy to back out of. We stand face to face every day of our lives, and need to look deeper into each other's eyes, find the click and make it flow. I'm glad there is no easy way out. I want to stand strong with my husband by my side, knowing we've worked hard individually to make this complete together. But that's what we need to do. We need to work harder.
My last and final relationship. He's exactly what I wanted, he's exactly what I got. And he's someone I see in my future, sharing travel and grandkids and cups of coffee on a sunny terrace. He is, after all these years, still my everything.
Throughout junior high I had a couple boys I "dated". Dated being a very loose term, as we held hands in the hallway at school and he walked me to my classes. This was the point I had my first experience with a long-term relationship. His name was Justin and I had known him when he lived in Laramie, but he had moved to Florida. It was then that we began writing and discovering what it meant to be 'in love' through our letters. I can still remember awaiting his next card in the mailbox as I would scurry to my bedroom and sit there opening it up as if it were a treasure. But, kids will be kids, and eventually no more cards came. And that was that.
Towards the end of junior high and my transition year into highschool, I dated Mark. We spent hours upon hours through the summer at the baseball park. During my time with him, I learned about kissing and touching and sexual tension. And I learned about what boys can do to a girl's self-esteem when all they really wanted all along was one thing: sex.
In high school I was one of the kids from a great mix of friends, but never fit into any one group. I never got close to anyone, really, though I would consider my DECA and Newspaper clubs as having the most influence over me during this time. I never really went to parties or movies or out with the crowd. But even so, I came to be involved with a guy from the tech school, Tracey. He was older and my parents disapproved of him. The reason was because he was a techer, and far too old (19) for their little (16) girl. I snuck around to see Tracey, and spent hours helping him fix up his cool car. We had a good time together, and were even allowed to go roller-skating with a group on ocassion. My parents didn't know about all the other time I spent with him. Our relationship fizzled as spring turned to summer and he went back home to Montana after his semester.
When I was in my last year of high school, I was involved in another long-distance relationship with Pablo. He didn't live so very far, and we managed to see each other fairly regularly when I took the bus to meet my girlfriend, who was his cousin. When I got my own car, I was even allowed to go there to visit. I don't think my parents understood how romantically involved we were. They knew I was planning to marry him and be with him forever, but it was just puppy love in their eyes. We kept in touch via phone and mail, hanging onto those few in-life meetings we had in between. Pablo could barely speak English, but at that time my Spanish was quite fluent and we communicated easily. We joked that ours was the language of love. Until I suddenly realized the language of love couldn't exist without us speaking a common language, and eventually he gave up and moved back to Mexico.
In my first year of college I still lived in Laramie, but moved into an apartment with 3 other girls. I met Rob as he lay in the middle of the main street through town in the middle of the night. My girlfriends and I were headed home after a night at the bar and I had been drinking. I called out to the driver to "Stop. Is that guy laying there dead?" And we stopped and helped him up and brought him home (funny, he was also a techer), but I never went home that night. We stayed and partied some more with Rob and his friends (yes, he was also drunk), and I even stayed with him the next day when everyone finally went their own ways. We managed to spend a lot of time together in the coming weeks and I couldn't help but fall for him even though I knew he would be leaving Laramie after his exams from tech school. He went home to Connecticut, but him and I stayed in touch for the better part of 4 years. When I moved to New York as a nanny (yes, knowing he would be close to me again), we even managed to get together, and our phone calls lasted hundreds of hours each month. We had a really free and easy relationship. Nothing permanent, nothing promised, but quite intense all the same. Rob joined the Coast Guard and after I got pregnant with Kaeden, Rob found the girl he would marry, and we didn't keep in touch after that.
Rick was my next involvement. He was someone I knew from high school as he fawned after me even back then. When I had moved back to Laramie after having gone to New York and then California, Rick came into where I worked and asked me out. He was recently divorced with two kids, and though I wasn't interested in him as more than a friend, I still agreed to go out. I think my self-esteem must have been at an all-time low, because he used his charm and managed to become a permanent fixture in my life. So permanent, that when I moved out of my prarents home, he helped me move, but never left. This was the beginning of realizing I was trapped in some kind of hell. He was mean and demanding and abusive and managed to estarnge me from my family and friends. I have no idea why I didn't leave him, other than I was scared and didn't have enough courage to go. And that's when I discovered I was pregnant. Our relationship was very rocky and at one time in my pregnancy he tried to kill my baby by jumping on my stomach. I went to the hospital and was checked in to keep track of contractions as well as administer fluids. Though I didn't allow him back into our home after that, we still saw each other. When Kaeden was born, he wasn't present, but came into and out of our lives for a short period after his birth. When Kaeden was an infant he threw a box of canned vegetables on the bed, hitting Kaeden, and from that moment on it was the end of my life with Rick. I moved away from Laramie to protect myself and my baby, and though he stalked us and there were a few incidents of terror, he was never again a part of our lives.
And then, fast forward 3 years. The computer age. ICQ. And the meeting of my next and final involvement, Erwin. I met Eagle on the first night after installing a modem on my new second-hand computer. He was from Holland. I was doing a school unit on Holland. He was called Eagle. I had recently hit an eagle with my truck and damaged the front window, as well as received a scar on my wrist. It was fate. We chatted off and on for a couple months, until suddenly something switched and he became my life. Once our relationship started to evolve, there was no stopping us. Another long-distance relationship. Yet, this one had me more thn head-over-heels. There was something extra, something special which drove me into a state of complete happiness. As we chatted, and eventually shared phone calls (lots of them) and spent fortunes in postage, my dutch prince was coming for a visit. And from that first visit, we've never since been apart (other than via the ocean which separated us). When Kaeden and I moved to Holland in 200o to join our family together, it was all I had dreamed of. And when Jari came along a year later, our little family was complete. We married knowing that it was the end to all future relationships, and I was completely content with this scenario.
There have been ups and downs throughout my life with Erwin, but the ups far outweigh the downs. As far as men are concerned, he is someone I can always count on, he is supportive in my desires and needs, and he gives me a sense of security. I still get those butterfly tingles when I see him walking towards me and our life together has become comfortable and gratifying. Sometimes I need to stand back, when the going gets tough, and remember my past, the people I have been involved with, and the present that is mine. Because no matter how difficult things seem to be, we still have each other, and we vowed to love one another no matter what problems come to stand in our way. And love him, I do. Ours is no longer a long-distance relationship easy to back out of. We stand face to face every day of our lives, and need to look deeper into each other's eyes, find the click and make it flow. I'm glad there is no easy way out. I want to stand strong with my husband by my side, knowing we've worked hard individually to make this complete together. But that's what we need to do. We need to work harder.
My last and final relationship. He's exactly what I wanted, he's exactly what I got. And he's someone I see in my future, sharing travel and grandkids and cups of coffee on a sunny terrace. He is, after all these years, still my everything.
2.03.2010
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.
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.
1.07.2010
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.
12.30.2009
Therapy
I did something bad today. I skipped therapy. I'm feeling guilty, and haven't even called my therapist to make up some excuse and reschedule. I feel like if I call him and tell him I just didn't feel like coming, it will make me feel at least honest about it, but disappoint him that I wasted his time and space for another client. Which I did do. After already rescheduling earlier in the week.
I had every intention of going. Jari had soccer practice and I had therapy and everything was all set. Then, as his coach picked him up, I just decided not to go. I stood out in the pouring rain for 5 minutes by my bike with my coat on before I just walked back in the house and said screw it. And now comes the guilt. My hand needs therapy to improve. I need to go to regain some movement, to get those muscles working. And after a therapy session, though I have some pain, usually my hand works a bit better, feels a bit looser. And by skipping, I just managed to put myself in a foul mood.
I'm getting frustrated with my hand. In the beginning I noticed so much progress. After being told my hand may never function again, I started being able to use it in little ways. My surgeon and my therapist are both amazed by the recovery I have made. But though I am happy I have some function, my hand is not what I wish it to be. I feel blessed to have been given back enough use to do some of the things I couldn't do immediately following the accident. But I still can't do everything I yearn to do. And at this point, I feel like I have reached the limit of my recovery. It just seems like this is where I have reached the top, and there's not much more good that's going to come. I'm frustrated, angry and sad. And I live in pain, though I try to hide it, and it's not as constant as it was. Still, I look at my stupid hand and feel the huge balloon-like fingers that look 1/2 normal but feel far from normal and I just want to cry. What did I ever do to make the world turn against me? A stupid question as I am alive, but one that comes regularly to my mind anyway.
Another issue is the nerve damage which seems to be healing improperly. They think my nerve may have attached to the scar tissue which means I will need either a painful series of shots to release it, which often doesn't help when scar tissue is involved, or another surgery. My hand turns blue just out of the blue, and if it gets even slightly cold, the pain is unbearable and I walk around in a fit of fury with tears streaming down my face until it warms again and I can manage. These things have me worried. Wondering if maybe, once all is said and done, I may get more use back, or if it will be another surgery, another recovery for nothing. Is this balloon-fingered disfigured mess of a hand my lifelong fate?
So, I skipped therapy today. Maybe it was more than just the rain the blocked me from going. Maybe the frustration of not having the improvement I need to make it feel worthwhile is what stopped me in my tracks. Maybe I need to get a relaity check and learn that life deals us blows, and we have the power to make the best of the situation...or sit doing nothing in pity. Today I chose the easy road...but it wasn't as easy as I expected it to be. I'm feeling guilty. I think it's time to make that call.
I had every intention of going. Jari had soccer practice and I had therapy and everything was all set. Then, as his coach picked him up, I just decided not to go. I stood out in the pouring rain for 5 minutes by my bike with my coat on before I just walked back in the house and said screw it. And now comes the guilt. My hand needs therapy to improve. I need to go to regain some movement, to get those muscles working. And after a therapy session, though I have some pain, usually my hand works a bit better, feels a bit looser. And by skipping, I just managed to put myself in a foul mood.
I'm getting frustrated with my hand. In the beginning I noticed so much progress. After being told my hand may never function again, I started being able to use it in little ways. My surgeon and my therapist are both amazed by the recovery I have made. But though I am happy I have some function, my hand is not what I wish it to be. I feel blessed to have been given back enough use to do some of the things I couldn't do immediately following the accident. But I still can't do everything I yearn to do. And at this point, I feel like I have reached the limit of my recovery. It just seems like this is where I have reached the top, and there's not much more good that's going to come. I'm frustrated, angry and sad. And I live in pain, though I try to hide it, and it's not as constant as it was. Still, I look at my stupid hand and feel the huge balloon-like fingers that look 1/2 normal but feel far from normal and I just want to cry. What did I ever do to make the world turn against me? A stupid question as I am alive, but one that comes regularly to my mind anyway.
Another issue is the nerve damage which seems to be healing improperly. They think my nerve may have attached to the scar tissue which means I will need either a painful series of shots to release it, which often doesn't help when scar tissue is involved, or another surgery. My hand turns blue just out of the blue, and if it gets even slightly cold, the pain is unbearable and I walk around in a fit of fury with tears streaming down my face until it warms again and I can manage. These things have me worried. Wondering if maybe, once all is said and done, I may get more use back, or if it will be another surgery, another recovery for nothing. Is this balloon-fingered disfigured mess of a hand my lifelong fate?
So, I skipped therapy today. Maybe it was more than just the rain the blocked me from going. Maybe the frustration of not having the improvement I need to make it feel worthwhile is what stopped me in my tracks. Maybe I need to get a relaity check and learn that life deals us blows, and we have the power to make the best of the situation...or sit doing nothing in pity. Today I chose the easy road...but it wasn't as easy as I expected it to be. I'm feeling guilty. I think it's time to make that call.
11.13.2009
Tera,a look inside
It's me, Tera here. I've been feeling a change in myself lately. A kind of energy that plows through me and makes me wonder just who has overtaken my body. I am much more aware of things I don't like in myself, and things I love. I have found myself getting harder as I age, but with the hardness comes an appreciation for being able to state my opinions and my feelings without feeling self-conscious about it. I'm a nice person, from inside out. I find myself smiling at strangers and wondering about them, who they are, and my smile isn't forced, but genuine. I am not a dumb person, but find myself wishing I was more knowledgeable about the world, history, simple things I take for granted. And wishing that when I did learn something new, it would stay with me instead of claiming me for a day and then being once again forgotten.
I am a mom. A mom who gives her all to be the best I can for my children. Giving them my time and energy and love. But wishing I could give them even more, knowing that I also allot myself plenty of me time, even though I don't take full advantage of what I could be doing with that time. My kids are certainly offered the comforts life has to give. They have never had to worry about who will be there to care for them, or have clean clothes, or food. Their shelves are over-filled with kid stuff, both dollar store junk and precious costly toys. They don't often play with any of it. We are a very computer-oriented family, and as much as this has positive aspects, I sometimes worry about the negative effects it has on our relationships, with ourselves, and as a family. I worry about my children's health, probably because of all the health issues Kaeden had as a young child. But I also worry about their weight, knowing that my being overweight could have lasting effects on them as well, yet I still give in far too often when asked for cookies and candy. It's a battle within a battle. My boys both have less respect for me than they should, or than I deserve. Sometimes I feel that they treat me as their servant, and I too often let it happen. But I love them with all my heart, and in the deepest place inside of me, I know I am a good mom.
I am a wife. I have had this title now for 6 years, and still to this day it makes me feel strange to say it. I have this combined feeling of ecstasy and disbelief, also proud that I found a man who loves me and provides for me. I enjoy being a wife, but worry that I could be more loving and more giving in our relationship, while in the same breath thinking how very much I do for my husband and our family. He doesn't complain, and seems to just go with the flow of the home we have created. He eats what I cook, he attends events I plan, he lets me be my own person as long as I am also available for all our family adventures. But, he still knows how to push my buttons, sometimes in the best sense, sometimes in a way I wish I never had to deal with. Him and I, we are a good couple. We get along well, but take each other for granted too much of the time. We don't allow ourselves to take advantage of 'us' time, and sometimes I worry that that could be something that becomes the breaking point for us. Not now, now everything is good, but will we still find each other appealing and attractive years from now when we look at each other and wonder who the person we've been married to all these years really is?
I am a teacher. When I say that, a hard lump gets stuck in my throat and nearly chokes me, knowing that the profession I chose, the work I love, is no longer in the cards for me. My husband and I argue incessantly about the value of this profession, and I stand strong in my views that teachers are worth more than they are given credit for. I love children. I love their honesty, their passion, their innocence. I love their energy. When I play with Jari's friends, it establishes for me all over again that I was right to become a teacher. I have a special bond with children when given the opportunity. I love opening their eyes to new adventures in life, providing them with opportunities they don't normally encounter. I love having children come to play and asking if we can please bake cookies like last time they were here, or begging to get out the craft boxes filled with all kinds of treasures most people throw away in their junk garbage. I love pulling blankets out of cupboards and telling them they can build a tent, and seeing the glee in their eyes as they ask, "Can we really do THAT?"
I am someone who loves the feeling of things being cleaned up, but who despises cleaning myself. I love wearing fresh-ironed clothes, but hate pulling out the iron and ironing board. I love to cook and experiment in the kitchen, but have little patience for things that take too much effort or too many pans. I am somebody who can't stand plannning too far in advance, can't stand lists or a schedule, yet realise how much easier life is if you plan, schedule, and check things off. When it comes to travel or vacation, I don't need to hear it twice before I am in search of a good deal for new adventures, whether they be in foreign countries or in the comfort of family. I love holidays, all of them, and do everything in my power to celebrate them with flair and extravagance. I am somebody who needs the sun to feel alive and healthy, and dreary winters put me in a foul mood. I am somebody who cannot overcome a small cold without it bludgeoning into something big, and I manage to attract every little virus that comes in my path.
This is me, hello Tera. I may seem like a nobody faced with the greatness of this huge wide world, I may not be important when it comes to world news, but I am me, and I am happy with who I am. I have so many facets to the face everyone sees on the outside, and very few can look inside to learn the real me. But this is me, little pieces all wound up to be this woman I have become. And looking in from the outside, looking from the outside in, I am okay.
12.05.2008
This Is Me.
Today, when I picked Jari up from school, he glanced my way, turned, and then did a double take. As he came towards me with a BIG grin on his face, uncertainty in his eyes, he said "Mama, I didn't even know it was you. You changed your hair." Yes, I dyed my hair today. The greys were peeking through more than to my liking, and I did the necessary deed...and I have never been so dark in all my life. Today, Jari's little friend came to ask him over to play after school. When I opened the door he said "Tera, you look different. You changed your hair." Yes, I dyed my hair today. It's dark, very dark, darker than I have ever had it before. It doesn't look natural to me, being brown instead of a lighter shade nearing blonde. But this is me. Recognize me or not, take me as I am. This is me, whether blonde or brown, happy or sad, laughing or crying. This is me. I am always me on the inside, whatever my outside shows. Whether I am fat or skinny, angry or at peace, I am me. And today, I am a brown me...a dark me...a happy me...but I am still me. Take me as I am.
11.19.2008
Alien Me
How can it be that I feel so unsure, so uncomfortable in my own skin? Nothing has changed in my world. But I feel so disfigured, so completely tight and knotted in all the wrong places. I want my mind to be free, my body to be healthy, my heart to feel flowing and not so rock hard. I am stuck in a rut in which I question who I am, can't come to terms with what my place in the world is. I feel a weight hefting me down, shoving me deeper into the ground with each step I muster. And, there is no explanation for any of it; none, that I can actually take hold of to cement all the pieces together. I just feel like curling up in a fetal ball and crying until all the tears are spent. Tears for what, I don't even know. I want to be held tightly, arms wrapped around me, protecting me from these thoughts, warming up my entire spirit, until I can once again face the world. I need to feel welcome, to feel wanted, to feel comfortable and secure. I just want to be loved. Loved more passionately and deeply than I am able to love myself right now. To be able to concentrate and to actually accomplish the goals I set out for myself each day, but never manage to achieve as I walk in circles and can't focus on my one foot in front of the other, let alone the rest of the world out there waiting for me, needing me, expecting me to be strong. I can't put my finger on this sadness, but I know it hides behind my eyes, comes forth in the discalming manner in which I speak, the steps I take looking as if I am climbing a mountain. I am not me hiding behind this alien being shrouded in the folds of my skin. I just want to be me.
10.21.2008
Women of the Web
Last night I had a meeting. A meeting on my calendar, and nothing to do with kids or friends or school or family. It was a meeting for me. A meeting which I attended as the new webmaster for my women's club.
This year, I kind of got myself pulled into being on the board of our local women's club. It wasn't something I was sure I wanted to do, but after being asked a million times I finally broke down and decided to give it a try. Though we've only had a handful of meetings, and a couple activities I was involved in, I think I might just enjoy it. And now, I have been voted in to create a website for our club.
I haven't made a website before, though I enjoy being on the computer. And it seems simple enough, as it is just a template in which to place activities and members, etc. But still, I am really looking forward to being involved in something in which my work is seen. Something of my creation in which I can be proud. And so, I had a meeting. And now, with my little handbook in hand and a few ideas spinning out of control in my mind, I am hoping to spin them off onto a new website for our club. It should be a challenge keeping on top of it all, and I hope I don't get bored with it all too quickly (I tend to get distracted after I do things for too long), but I think it'll be good for me, good to have something to keep me busy, something to challenge me, and give me a creative outlet for my ideas. I'm looking forward to getting started!
This year, I kind of got myself pulled into being on the board of our local women's club. It wasn't something I was sure I wanted to do, but after being asked a million times I finally broke down and decided to give it a try. Though we've only had a handful of meetings, and a couple activities I was involved in, I think I might just enjoy it. And now, I have been voted in to create a website for our club.
I haven't made a website before, though I enjoy being on the computer. And it seems simple enough, as it is just a template in which to place activities and members, etc. But still, I am really looking forward to being involved in something in which my work is seen. Something of my creation in which I can be proud. And so, I had a meeting. And now, with my little handbook in hand and a few ideas spinning out of control in my mind, I am hoping to spin them off onto a new website for our club. It should be a challenge keeping on top of it all, and I hope I don't get bored with it all too quickly (I tend to get distracted after I do things for too long), but I think it'll be good for me, good to have something to keep me busy, something to challenge me, and give me a creative outlet for my ideas. I'm looking forward to getting started!
10.17.2008
Parenting
As kids get older, it seems like we as parents only manage to get more busy. It used to be hectic, dealing with crying babies and diaper changes and needing to be constantly on guard for falls and dangers in the house. Now it is hectic in the need for organizing playdates and sport activities and school activities and scouting and the like. It seems we are always running here or there, and our family activities always circulate around someone having a game or meeting or whatever else falls across our path in the week. We can't just wake up Saturday and say: Hey, let's go to the woods today. Now, it's more that we set the alarm to wake up in time for the game, go and watch Jari play soccer, run a few errands that need to be done, and make it home in time for Kaeden's scouts. It isn't nearly as free and impulsive as life was when we still had babies running around. Of course, we don't need to bring the stroller and diaper bag and extra clothes with us either. Now it's just tell the kids to get in the car, and they go. Usually, mama still has to make sure the coats make it along.
Parenting has so many different dimensions. With our growing children, our duties change. We need to teach our children what is appropriate behavior, discipline them for being unruly or cruel, and help them find their place in this world by organizing and making sure they are where they need to be. We need to stimulate them by giving them choices, but not too many choices that we get too bogged down with appointments ourselves. It's management skills, being a parent.
Last night, I forgot that it was Sport Club for Kaeden. Jari had a friend here playing all afternoon and I played a game with Kaeden and then started dinner. Suddenly, as I was putting laundry away, it dawned on me that I had forgotten all about Kaeden's activity. "Kaed, we forgot sport club tonight!" I told my son. "Didn't you want to go?"
"I forgot it too, mama." he replied, concentrating on his Playstation game. I was glad he was otherwise occupied, as sometimes forgetting sport club could result in a full-blooded meltdown from my son. Having the game to entertain him kept his emotions in check.
Yesterday, I got all of Jari's needed items ready for his special Autumn adventure with his class. I made sure Kaeden had his gym clothes for his gym class. Both boys left the house with full bellies and healthy lunches. As did my husband. I made a few important phone calls, answered the door when our oil was delivered, paid a few bills online, read the electric meter and tried to turn it in online, ran to get some meat at the grocery store, did laundry, cleaned up the visible messes, made dinner, played games, supervised playing children, said hello to the neighbor, looked up activities for us to do while we're on vacation the end of the month, and chose not to attend my choir activity (Erwin wasn't home in time, and even though I could have reminded him, I soemtimes feel like he has enough on his plate and I don't need to add to his daily struggles. When I do choose to tell him he needs to be here for this or that at a certain time, he ALWAYS is. Even if it is in the middle of the day when he should be working. But marriage is like that. You give, you take, you share, both responsibility and joy and struggles, and somehow, when you both give it your all, everything gets managed just fine...and life seems to revolve and circulate and you live together comfortably.)
Anyway, even though I was home alone yesterday from 8:40-3:30, I had a busy day. I have been considering going to work, as it is something I would like to do for my emotional health, and the extra money could help finance our trips to America, activities for the boys, the oil to heat our home, the lunches out with girlfriends...yeah, all those extras. But, I don't know how we would manage everything if I was working. My boys have it very easy as I am always here for them, and they know that whatever they need, mama is always here. They don't have to worry who will pick them up from school, when they need to attend daycare, why they can't have friends come to play...it is natural for them to have the comfort of knowing mama will be home when they are, to supply a snack, to play a game, to help with homework, to find a misplaced soccer shirt or judo belt.
It was a choice Erwin and I made for me to be a stay at home mom. And I am glad my children have the security they do, this being my job. However, my job seems to be changing as my kids get older, and as I become even more busy than when they were toddlers, I wonder what is in store for me...but I have a hunch that as Jari ages another few years, he's going to be quite self-sufficient and independent. And as Kaeden ages a few years, he's going to need more assistance, and maybe not just from home and mama's heart. And so, I will happily continue my job, helping my children to grow into their own people, and know that this job, though not always exciting or satisfying or giving me social contact, is the most important I could be doing at this time in my life, in my children's lives. And someday, Erwin and I will again find the time to wake up lazily on a Saturday morning and have a leisurely breakfast before we grab our bikes for a ride through the woods, our kids off on their own activities, their own calendars and agendas filled with their own handwriting, while mine is just a reminder to be at the soccer field at 6 for Jari's game, or to attend Kaeden's Judo exam watching him receive his next belt.
This parenting stuff is ever-changing. It's both the best ride and most wrecked accident all rolled up in one. But it's an adventure I wouldn't want to be without.
Parenting has so many different dimensions. With our growing children, our duties change. We need to teach our children what is appropriate behavior, discipline them for being unruly or cruel, and help them find their place in this world by organizing and making sure they are where they need to be. We need to stimulate them by giving them choices, but not too many choices that we get too bogged down with appointments ourselves. It's management skills, being a parent.
Last night, I forgot that it was Sport Club for Kaeden. Jari had a friend here playing all afternoon and I played a game with Kaeden and then started dinner. Suddenly, as I was putting laundry away, it dawned on me that I had forgotten all about Kaeden's activity. "Kaed, we forgot sport club tonight!" I told my son. "Didn't you want to go?"
"I forgot it too, mama." he replied, concentrating on his Playstation game. I was glad he was otherwise occupied, as sometimes forgetting sport club could result in a full-blooded meltdown from my son. Having the game to entertain him kept his emotions in check.
Yesterday, I got all of Jari's needed items ready for his special Autumn adventure with his class. I made sure Kaeden had his gym clothes for his gym class. Both boys left the house with full bellies and healthy lunches. As did my husband. I made a few important phone calls, answered the door when our oil was delivered, paid a few bills online, read the electric meter and tried to turn it in online, ran to get some meat at the grocery store, did laundry, cleaned up the visible messes, made dinner, played games, supervised playing children, said hello to the neighbor, looked up activities for us to do while we're on vacation the end of the month, and chose not to attend my choir activity (Erwin wasn't home in time, and even though I could have reminded him, I soemtimes feel like he has enough on his plate and I don't need to add to his daily struggles. When I do choose to tell him he needs to be here for this or that at a certain time, he ALWAYS is. Even if it is in the middle of the day when he should be working. But marriage is like that. You give, you take, you share, both responsibility and joy and struggles, and somehow, when you both give it your all, everything gets managed just fine...and life seems to revolve and circulate and you live together comfortably.)
Anyway, even though I was home alone yesterday from 8:40-3:30, I had a busy day. I have been considering going to work, as it is something I would like to do for my emotional health, and the extra money could help finance our trips to America, activities for the boys, the oil to heat our home, the lunches out with girlfriends...yeah, all those extras. But, I don't know how we would manage everything if I was working. My boys have it very easy as I am always here for them, and they know that whatever they need, mama is always here. They don't have to worry who will pick them up from school, when they need to attend daycare, why they can't have friends come to play...it is natural for them to have the comfort of knowing mama will be home when they are, to supply a snack, to play a game, to help with homework, to find a misplaced soccer shirt or judo belt.
It was a choice Erwin and I made for me to be a stay at home mom. And I am glad my children have the security they do, this being my job. However, my job seems to be changing as my kids get older, and as I become even more busy than when they were toddlers, I wonder what is in store for me...but I have a hunch that as Jari ages another few years, he's going to be quite self-sufficient and independent. And as Kaeden ages a few years, he's going to need more assistance, and maybe not just from home and mama's heart. And so, I will happily continue my job, helping my children to grow into their own people, and know that this job, though not always exciting or satisfying or giving me social contact, is the most important I could be doing at this time in my life, in my children's lives. And someday, Erwin and I will again find the time to wake up lazily on a Saturday morning and have a leisurely breakfast before we grab our bikes for a ride through the woods, our kids off on their own activities, their own calendars and agendas filled with their own handwriting, while mine is just a reminder to be at the soccer field at 6 for Jari's game, or to attend Kaeden's Judo exam watching him receive his next belt.
This parenting stuff is ever-changing. It's both the best ride and most wrecked accident all rolled up in one. But it's an adventure I wouldn't want to be without.
9.13.2007
Money in the Bank
Today I got a call from the bank. I went and returned the money I found, with much praise from the bank staff...and a happy feeling in my heart. I heard the story of the couple, in their late 70's, who tried to get their bank pass to work and thought the machine was broken...and the look of exasperation on their faces as the bank manager told them that somebody had probably pocketed the money. She offered me coffee and cake, then told me that deeds such as mine are what makes us believe in the human race. She told me how extremely happy her clients would be to have their money returned. And in my heart of hearts I feel really relieved and proud that I did the right thing. So, I won't have 2 months gas paid, or 1/2 the repair cots of our car, or 3 months electric...but I will have pride and justice and honesty which will carry me through my life. And, I also have this nifty new pen set...a thank you gift from the bank for my honesty...and an image in my mind of two happy elderly people holding hands walking out of the bank with their wallets full of money...their money...hard-earned and much needed. I feel really good.
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