I'm back to writing again after a long time of life just coming at me fast. I don't know if anyone even reads my blog, but it just feels good sometimes to write things out.
It's been five years since my last post and a lot has happened. My oldest and I have learned how to cope with his Autism and I have made a career out of teaching the rest of the world how to cope as well. I am now working on my Autism Specialist Certificate and am deciding on whether I want to pursue my Master's Degree in Special Education, as my BS is in Elementary Education, or in Occupational Therapy which is where my heart has always been. It's a tough decision that I am not taking lightly, I love facets of both careers and they are both similar in many ways. I have also gone through a crushing divorce and all of the emotional stages that go along with that. I am re-married and we have a wonderful baby son who is now 18 months old. My daughter is 5 and in Kindergarten, my oldest is 15 and a freshman in highschool, and of course I have the baby at home. This next change is the one I need to write about. I went not only from being a single mom to a married wife and mother, but from working full time as teacher, and a Special Education Teacher for Autism on an emergency certificate to now being a full time at-home wife and mother. This seemed the most natural thing for me to do both financially and emotionally for our children. All three are in milestone ages and stages of life and it made sense for me to stay home to be there for them in every way during these times.
My oldest has all of the angst and challenges that come with transitioning to being a teenager and to being in highshool. There's a new set of friends, girls, tons of homework and lots of studying, drugs have been an issue..not for him but he has already been offered drugs...and just figuring out where he fits in in this world. If I were to teach full time I would not be able to be as emotionally available for him. We have had troubles at school this year and I have had to spend lots of time with teachers and at the school as well as time with a grounded son, monitoring him, studying with him, and making sure he learned as much as he could from the situation. Then I have my Kindergartener. She's just learning about school and friends. None of these kiddos have social skills, so friends and playing is most important right now. She is also learning so much academically that I wouldn't have the energy or time to offer support to her or have play dates for her if I had a classroom to take care of as well.
As it is right now my son has early release days every week and I pick him up and we go out for coffee or ice cream or what have you, and discuss his goals. He has a binder he keeps with me that lists his goals. We go over his short term and long term goals for the week, discuss what he did to reach them and how he thinks the week went. What went right and what went wrong that he could work on. We then list new goals, taking those things into consieration for the next week. We use his planner to plan study time and friend time as well as chores and free time. I love this time more than anything. I thank God for it every day. I love his age where I can guide him now and begin to work on our relationship as adults. That's not saying I feel my job asa parent is over, I do not think that. I do, however feel my role is now more of a guidance role because I have done the parenting during is formidable years. I step in and make decisions when needed and give rewards and conseuenes when asked for, but with his age I don't need to take that role so much.
I spend time volunteering in my daughter's classroom and have been able to go to her parties and field trips, another thing I would have to miss as a full time teacher. I enjoy our time in the car going to and from school and enjoy taking her to the park after school with the baby. I enjoy taking her to gymnastics and play dates with friends. We read together, do crafts together and spend time playing Barbie. I also love this time with her to watch her grow from being a baby to a little girl. I thank God for that as well.
Then there's the baby. I love my time with him. I would miss out on so much if I continued my career. I went back to teacing four days after I gave birth to him and regretted it that whole year. I felt I missed out on bonding and so many growth milestones. I love just playing with him, making meals for him, reading to him, taking him to story times and play dates as well. I also thank God for this time to raise my now toddler.
As I write this realize my tough time transitioning is not so much being a full time mom, I always have been that, it's being a full time wife and being at home. See, I have always worked or gone to school. I love workng.I love my career, everything about it. I love feeling important, the clothes, meeting new people, learning new things, getting out of the house, and making my own money. Staying at home and having the household on my shoulders is what is difficult. Not resenting my husband for going to work while I am here, that is my struggle. Our finances are so tight. I have no money to just get a pop or take the princess to McDonald's after school I have to rely on my husband for that. Grocery shopping is very budgeted and we don't eat out anymore. I enjoyed making my own money and having freedoms and I enjoyed spending my money on entertainment. I also loved being around other people. I have a house and family to care for now, I don't get out very much. Not for connections to other people at least. That is difficult as well. I feel isolated. I feel I have lost most of my friends because they are in a different place in life and go out often with their spouces. Again I begin to resent mine. I stay in yoga pants or pajamas because I need full range of motion with the baby and I haven't had my hair done in about 18 months. I feel frumpy and disgusting. I don't go to the gym anymore and feel...fat. Fat and weak. We moved so I don't attend my church anymore and I miss it. I feel uninspired. Then there's the fact my day never ends. There are always dishes, always laundry, meals to cook, things to put away, dogs to let out, homework to help with..things that seemingly only mom can do. My husband does help, but he gets a change of scenery. His day at work is done when he comes home. Mine just keeps going. He gets to finish tasks and feel success. I never get to finish anything. I am exhausted all the time. This is my struggle. I'm not unhappy and we have a great marriage, I just am struggling with being at home. I feel like I am not doing anything important.
Baby is awake so I will write more later about how i have come to terms with my new role and come to love it and celebrate it.
Monday, January 25, 2016
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
" I have Aspergers?" " What's Aspergers?"
I watched the episode of Parenthood on NBC tonight where Max finds out he has Asperger's Syndrome. Andrew and I actually watched it together, he hasn't said too much about it, but his symptoms are much milder than the character's on the show. But I still have a few things to say about it:
1.) Andrew's therapist told the two of us together in a very non-formal way. There were no tears, there was no sadness. The mom in the show cried, and I agree with the therapist, that was a bad move. I agree that it shows mourning and that the child could think that having Asperger's is something to mourn or feel bad or ashamed about. It is none of the above! It's just like the dad said, he has his strengths and his challenges, just like everyone else in this world, and Asperger's is just a part of that.
2.) The therapist suggested that the parents read a script he gave them and have a re-do with Max, accentuating the positives of Asperger's. I am on the fence with this. I agree with Adam that it's a bunch of propaganda, but at the same time, I did tell Andrew that his Asperger's comes with many gifts. Many gifts that I don't have and that his sister doesn't have. We all have our gifts that God gave us, our strengths and our weaknesses. I then did something I saw on a Nanny show a long time ago, I took a pile of "my name is" labels and wrote out Andrew's strengths and gifts as I said them out loud, then I placed them on his chest. There are times when he has had a bad day and says that he doesn't want these gifts and that this is the worst gift he has ever been given. Those days I just hold him and tell him how much I love him, how loved he is, and how I love him exactly the way he is. I wouldn't want him any other way. Those days are rough, my heart breaks in a million pieces, but I don't cry in front of him. We are blessed. He doesn't have terminal cancer. He's not autistic or Down's Syndrome.He has 2 arms and 2 legs, 10 fingers and 10 toes. We talk about the ways he is like other children. The things he can do with them or just like them, as well as celebrate the ways he is different and the things he can do that other children cannot..... like remember every character from every movie/tv show he has ever seen, or have AMAZING empathy skills. Andrew is an amazing actor and playwrite. He has this idea for The Wizard of Oz to be re-done in a Tim Burton-ish way. He has the kindest heart of any child I have met so far. BUT he doesn't understand the hidden meanings behind facial expressions, he doesn't recognize intentions and sees actions as good or bad, he lacks the filter to not verbalize every thought in his mind, and the concept of tone of voice is completely lost on him. It's like they said in the show, I've had to teach him to remember to look in people's eyes when they talk, how to smile when he greets people, how to change his voice tone when he asks a question...and the list could go on. Even with those challenges, we are still very blessed. I have learned that it helps to count your blessings during the worst moments. It really does help!
3.) I love how they talked to him at the end when he asked if he will always have it. Adam answered " Yes, you will always have a great sense of humor and a great memory....." It was beautiful. That brought me to tears. It is something that is rough. Some days are great, other days I resent him for being this way. Through it all I love him unconditionally and I just hope for the best. I hope that the coping skills I teach and re-teach him every day will stick with him some day and that he will be able to function and live on his own as an adult. I hope that all of his dreams become his reality and that some day he can find a woman who loves him and is as dedicated to him as I am. He is amazing, some days it is more difficult to remember than others, but he always amazing.
Andrew and I have been learning about this together, finding out what works for him by trial and error, day by day. I will be posting again soon about the things that worked for us as far as scheduling, errands, bed-time, and behavior. I really hope we can help others with our experiences and make this a little bit of an easier ride than it would otherwise be.
1.) Andrew's therapist told the two of us together in a very non-formal way. There were no tears, there was no sadness. The mom in the show cried, and I agree with the therapist, that was a bad move. I agree that it shows mourning and that the child could think that having Asperger's is something to mourn or feel bad or ashamed about. It is none of the above! It's just like the dad said, he has his strengths and his challenges, just like everyone else in this world, and Asperger's is just a part of that.
2.) The therapist suggested that the parents read a script he gave them and have a re-do with Max, accentuating the positives of Asperger's. I am on the fence with this. I agree with Adam that it's a bunch of propaganda, but at the same time, I did tell Andrew that his Asperger's comes with many gifts. Many gifts that I don't have and that his sister doesn't have. We all have our gifts that God gave us, our strengths and our weaknesses. I then did something I saw on a Nanny show a long time ago, I took a pile of "my name is" labels and wrote out Andrew's strengths and gifts as I said them out loud, then I placed them on his chest. There are times when he has had a bad day and says that he doesn't want these gifts and that this is the worst gift he has ever been given. Those days I just hold him and tell him how much I love him, how loved he is, and how I love him exactly the way he is. I wouldn't want him any other way. Those days are rough, my heart breaks in a million pieces, but I don't cry in front of him. We are blessed. He doesn't have terminal cancer. He's not autistic or Down's Syndrome.He has 2 arms and 2 legs, 10 fingers and 10 toes. We talk about the ways he is like other children. The things he can do with them or just like them, as well as celebrate the ways he is different and the things he can do that other children cannot..... like remember every character from every movie/tv show he has ever seen, or have AMAZING empathy skills. Andrew is an amazing actor and playwrite. He has this idea for The Wizard of Oz to be re-done in a Tim Burton-ish way. He has the kindest heart of any child I have met so far. BUT he doesn't understand the hidden meanings behind facial expressions, he doesn't recognize intentions and sees actions as good or bad, he lacks the filter to not verbalize every thought in his mind, and the concept of tone of voice is completely lost on him. It's like they said in the show, I've had to teach him to remember to look in people's eyes when they talk, how to smile when he greets people, how to change his voice tone when he asks a question...and the list could go on. Even with those challenges, we are still very blessed. I have learned that it helps to count your blessings during the worst moments. It really does help!
3.) I love how they talked to him at the end when he asked if he will always have it. Adam answered " Yes, you will always have a great sense of humor and a great memory....." It was beautiful. That brought me to tears. It is something that is rough. Some days are great, other days I resent him for being this way. Through it all I love him unconditionally and I just hope for the best. I hope that the coping skills I teach and re-teach him every day will stick with him some day and that he will be able to function and live on his own as an adult. I hope that all of his dreams become his reality and that some day he can find a woman who loves him and is as dedicated to him as I am. He is amazing, some days it is more difficult to remember than others, but he always amazing.
Andrew and I have been learning about this together, finding out what works for him by trial and error, day by day. I will be posting again soon about the things that worked for us as far as scheduling, errands, bed-time, and behavior. I really hope we can help others with our experiences and make this a little bit of an easier ride than it would otherwise be.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Love
Have you ever met someone and instantly loved them? Like a deep love of them. Not like a romantic love per se, or even a family type love, but something much deeper. Much more real. I have only encountered a love like that one time in my life. Something so pure, like the love you have for your child when it's first born. Something like a 'Bridges of Madison County' encounter, where the other person was my destiny. He fit perfect in my life and after only three days together, changed me greatly.
It was two years ago, I went on a trip to Chicago with a class from the local college. We were there to learn more about poverty and homlessness. He was the leader of my group on this trip. There were 5 of us total in this group, me being the oldest. We drove out in a minivan. I didn't get to really know him until the net day when our group had time in the morning to "wander" around Chicago and we all chose the mall. We were supposed to keep in groups of at least two and check in at check in points with our teacher. He wanted to go to a certain store, I can't remember now which one it was. The rest of the group wanted to go somewhere else. So I said I would stay with him. At first I thought he was kind of a jerk. we quietly walked to the store. He saw some people he knew in the store, which was actually pretty weird since we were two hours from home, but he introduced me to them. Very politlely. And he included me in their conversation. It was polite. Nice. The day dragged on and I got to know him a little better. We had fun doing crazy stuff together at the mall. He was nice and funny, but I still didn't think too much of him. Yet. Then we had our first assignment to go to the Salvation Army and serve lunch in the soup kitchen. He and I were assigned to make orange wedges together. There were over a hundred oranges! As we sat and sliced these oranges, we talked. He turned out to be more than just a frat boy. He was deep. And politcal. He was studying accountancy, but like many teens just out of highschool, he wasn't sure that's what he wanted to spend his life doing. What he really wanted to do was write. Freelance. He wanted to travel the world, see things. See people. And write about them the way he say them. He had great ideas of the world. Of what it was and what he wanted it to be. He was passionate and compassionate. He asked me about myself, and he listened when I spoke. He heard me beyond my words. He heard what I wanted and who I truly was through what I was telling him. Nobody has ever seen me like that. Raw. Unedited. But he did. He said he admired me for being a single mom and going back to school to make life better. He understood my real dreams without me having to say them aloud. He suggested the movie 'Into the Wild'. I watched once I was home and he was right on about my taste in movies. We talked about books and politics and sports and people. It was the best time slicing oranges I have ever had. He was 19. I was 32. I was engaged. He treated me better than my fiance'. He set the bar that day. We continued to spend time together over that weekend and sat together on the way home. I felt young, rejuvinated! I felt beautiful and special. And loved. I know I have friends and family that love me. I know that I am loved. But this was the type of love i have spent my life looking for. It was different and I don't know if I even have the right words to give you to explain what it was. I know what it wasn't. It wasn't infatuation. It was stronger, deeper, more stable and real. It wasn't romantic or family love. It wasn't brother love. I don't know what it was. But it was love.
Since that weekend, I have set the standard for my son and my future loves based on him and his kindess. We were in the Ghiredelli store and about to eat our samples when I was bumped and dropped my unwrapped chocolate. Without hesitation, he gave me his and picked up mine..and ate. it. lol He actually ate it! From the floor in a store in Chicago. I would have just asked for another one. But he ate it. On the drive back he stood up for my political point of view in a heated discussion with our teacher. He got me. My fiance didn't. Knowing him caused me to re-evaluate myself and our relationship and caused a short break in my relationship.
Time went on though. I got back together with my fiance and he made me promise not to have contact with my new friend. I promised, but kept him on my Facebook. I never checked his page though. I loved Gabe. I loved him vey much and I honored our relationship. I was always faithful, devoted, and loyal. Altough I have never forgotten Ben. I think of him every so often and even mentioned him to son the other day when he was asking me about how to treat a girl. I thought of him tonight. And since Gabe betrayed me and walked out of my life, I checked Ben's page to see what he was up to. I expected to find that he had quit school and was traveling around the world and was writing for the French Press. What I found was different and again, will leave me never the same again.
Ben passed away two years ago. A month and a half after our weekend together. I can't find out what happened. I think he took his own life. There were only two articles that talked about it that I could find and both had been removed from their sites. I know his body was found by a passerby in a field near his house. I know he was at a party the night before and was cited for an MIP (Minor In Possession). But that's all I know. I know that he was loved. Deeply. I could tell that when I first added him as a friend and looked at his page. I know that by the way people in his class reacted to him. By the way I felt about him. He wa loved. I hope he knew it.
So now I feel crushed and hollow and raw. I have never felt love like that and I'm not sure I ever will again. But his love changed my life forever. Thank you Ben for being in my life and teaching me about what love is. About who I am. About who I want to be. And who I want to be with. Rest in peace Ben-ji. I love you.
It was two years ago, I went on a trip to Chicago with a class from the local college. We were there to learn more about poverty and homlessness. He was the leader of my group on this trip. There were 5 of us total in this group, me being the oldest. We drove out in a minivan. I didn't get to really know him until the net day when our group had time in the morning to "wander" around Chicago and we all chose the mall. We were supposed to keep in groups of at least two and check in at check in points with our teacher. He wanted to go to a certain store, I can't remember now which one it was. The rest of the group wanted to go somewhere else. So I said I would stay with him. At first I thought he was kind of a jerk. we quietly walked to the store. He saw some people he knew in the store, which was actually pretty weird since we were two hours from home, but he introduced me to them. Very politlely. And he included me in their conversation. It was polite. Nice. The day dragged on and I got to know him a little better. We had fun doing crazy stuff together at the mall. He was nice and funny, but I still didn't think too much of him. Yet. Then we had our first assignment to go to the Salvation Army and serve lunch in the soup kitchen. He and I were assigned to make orange wedges together. There were over a hundred oranges! As we sat and sliced these oranges, we talked. He turned out to be more than just a frat boy. He was deep. And politcal. He was studying accountancy, but like many teens just out of highschool, he wasn't sure that's what he wanted to spend his life doing. What he really wanted to do was write. Freelance. He wanted to travel the world, see things. See people. And write about them the way he say them. He had great ideas of the world. Of what it was and what he wanted it to be. He was passionate and compassionate. He asked me about myself, and he listened when I spoke. He heard me beyond my words. He heard what I wanted and who I truly was through what I was telling him. Nobody has ever seen me like that. Raw. Unedited. But he did. He said he admired me for being a single mom and going back to school to make life better. He understood my real dreams without me having to say them aloud. He suggested the movie 'Into the Wild'. I watched once I was home and he was right on about my taste in movies. We talked about books and politics and sports and people. It was the best time slicing oranges I have ever had. He was 19. I was 32. I was engaged. He treated me better than my fiance'. He set the bar that day. We continued to spend time together over that weekend and sat together on the way home. I felt young, rejuvinated! I felt beautiful and special. And loved. I know I have friends and family that love me. I know that I am loved. But this was the type of love i have spent my life looking for. It was different and I don't know if I even have the right words to give you to explain what it was. I know what it wasn't. It wasn't infatuation. It was stronger, deeper, more stable and real. It wasn't romantic or family love. It wasn't brother love. I don't know what it was. But it was love.
Since that weekend, I have set the standard for my son and my future loves based on him and his kindess. We were in the Ghiredelli store and about to eat our samples when I was bumped and dropped my unwrapped chocolate. Without hesitation, he gave me his and picked up mine..and ate. it. lol He actually ate it! From the floor in a store in Chicago. I would have just asked for another one. But he ate it. On the drive back he stood up for my political point of view in a heated discussion with our teacher. He got me. My fiance didn't. Knowing him caused me to re-evaluate myself and our relationship and caused a short break in my relationship.
Time went on though. I got back together with my fiance and he made me promise not to have contact with my new friend. I promised, but kept him on my Facebook. I never checked his page though. I loved Gabe. I loved him vey much and I honored our relationship. I was always faithful, devoted, and loyal. Altough I have never forgotten Ben. I think of him every so often and even mentioned him to son the other day when he was asking me about how to treat a girl. I thought of him tonight. And since Gabe betrayed me and walked out of my life, I checked Ben's page to see what he was up to. I expected to find that he had quit school and was traveling around the world and was writing for the French Press. What I found was different and again, will leave me never the same again.
Ben passed away two years ago. A month and a half after our weekend together. I can't find out what happened. I think he took his own life. There were only two articles that talked about it that I could find and both had been removed from their sites. I know his body was found by a passerby in a field near his house. I know he was at a party the night before and was cited for an MIP (Minor In Possession). But that's all I know. I know that he was loved. Deeply. I could tell that when I first added him as a friend and looked at his page. I know that by the way people in his class reacted to him. By the way I felt about him. He wa loved. I hope he knew it.
So now I feel crushed and hollow and raw. I have never felt love like that and I'm not sure I ever will again. But his love changed my life forever. Thank you Ben for being in my life and teaching me about what love is. About who I am. About who I want to be. And who I want to be with. Rest in peace Ben-ji. I love you.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
What I'm lovin' right now
Sonic Route 44 Diet Vanilla Cranberry Coke
Grilled Cheese with Cheddar cheese, Bleu Cheese crumbles and green onions on top.
This season of American Idol! Stephen Tyler! He is such a diva and he makes sex comments to contestants and randomly sings! He cracks me up!
Green Bay in the Super Bowl!
Reconnecting with old friends and getting closer to new ones
Goodwill
Paxil! Ha!
Grilled Cheese with Cheddar cheese, Bleu Cheese crumbles and green onions on top.
This season of American Idol! Stephen Tyler! He is such a diva and he makes sex comments to contestants and randomly sings! He cracks me up!
Green Bay in the Super Bowl!
Reconnecting with old friends and getting closer to new ones
Goodwill
Paxil! Ha!
WHY?
Why do all mommy groups have to be etremely "mommy-is"? It's like, "let's all drink organic coffee picked by ugandans in the mid-day sun at their peak in our coffee mugs made by blind potters while we wear our organic cotton clothing that was weaved by native americans, with our perfectly done hair and make-up while we sit in our HUGE gas guggling SUV made by a foreign company and talk about what an overacheiver our child is and how rich our husbands are"
Why can't I find a retro-grade band of mommies that want to drink Route 44 diet cokes and wear sweat pants and sit in my living room while our normally growing babies play and we talk about how much we would love to take a shower and eat a complete meal while it's hot?
Why-oh-why do highschoolers think they look SO COOL when their buts are hanging out of their pants? Andrew and Rowan were BOTH laughing at the yahoo we saw the other day, and he was struttin' his stuff like he thought they were admiring him!
Why do Rowan's molars only hurt her at 2:00 in the morning?
Why does she feel she has to scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs at 2:00 in the morning when her teeth hurt her?
Why can't she just whimper a little to let me know?
Why does our dog always bark at Andrew when he comes to the door from outside?
Why does our pug's tail straighten when she sleeps? That's weird.
Why does Stephen Tyler randomly start singing during the American Idol auditions?
Why do I still want to have one night alone with him? I'll make him sing, allright! ;)
Why does Rowan always try to drink the dog's water? Gross.
Why can't I find a retro-grade band of mommies that want to drink Route 44 diet cokes and wear sweat pants and sit in my living room while our normally growing babies play and we talk about how much we would love to take a shower and eat a complete meal while it's hot?
Why-oh-why do highschoolers think they look SO COOL when their buts are hanging out of their pants? Andrew and Rowan were BOTH laughing at the yahoo we saw the other day, and he was struttin' his stuff like he thought they were admiring him!
Why do Rowan's molars only hurt her at 2:00 in the morning?
Why does she feel she has to scream bloody murder at the top of her lungs at 2:00 in the morning when her teeth hurt her?
Why can't she just whimper a little to let me know?
Why does our dog always bark at Andrew when he comes to the door from outside?
Why does our pug's tail straighten when she sleeps? That's weird.
Why does Stephen Tyler randomly start singing during the American Idol auditions?
Why do I still want to have one night alone with him? I'll make him sing, allright! ;)
Why does Rowan always try to drink the dog's water? Gross.
Sunday, January 23, 2011
The Book Game
About a week ago I was trying to convince The Boy that it is important to read. He and I actually got into a pretty heated discussion over the importance of knowing how to read well and reading books. He was informing me that he is going to be a movie director when he grows up and he doesn't need reading to do that, he just needs to watch tons of movies and the extras discs (lol, so niaeve). So I was trying to get him to understand that there is TONS of reading involved in college, not to mention that he will have to read scripts. And most movies come from books. He didn't believe me, thus the Book Game was born!
Here is how it is played: He has to name a movie that did not come from a book, history event, or comic book, or one that is based on a book such as Monty Python's Holy Grail which is based on the story of King Arthur. in the middle of the heated discussion of trying to prove the other person wrong, we realized that we were actually having fun and a really good discussion came out of it. He came up with two more rules: the winner is the first person to get to 10 points. If he names a movie that is a book, I get a point. If he names one that is not a book, he gets a point. Rule # 2: If he names three in a row that are not books, I lose a point. If he names three in a row that are books, he loses a point. he won round 1, but I won round two. Round two had a twist, the same rules applied, but I had to name books that were movies. If I failed, then he got a point. That was more difficult than I thought because I could not repeat any titles from round one and I had to choose movies that he would know so that he could play along easily.
It really is fun, maybe I can figure a way to make it into a board game or a card game!
Here is how it is played: He has to name a movie that did not come from a book, history event, or comic book, or one that is based on a book such as Monty Python's Holy Grail which is based on the story of King Arthur. in the middle of the heated discussion of trying to prove the other person wrong, we realized that we were actually having fun and a really good discussion came out of it. He came up with two more rules: the winner is the first person to get to 10 points. If he names a movie that is a book, I get a point. If he names one that is not a book, he gets a point. Rule # 2: If he names three in a row that are not books, I lose a point. If he names three in a row that are books, he loses a point. he won round 1, but I won round two. Round two had a twist, the same rules applied, but I had to name books that were movies. If I failed, then he got a point. That was more difficult than I thought because I could not repeat any titles from round one and I had to choose movies that he would know so that he could play along easily.
It really is fun, maybe I can figure a way to make it into a board game or a card game!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Fear
This morning started like every other weekday morning before it, I get up, get an ice cold diet vanilla Coke from the fridge, pop a blueberry bagel into the toaster and wake up my son. Then I go to the computer and quickly check my email. In my inbox was a letter I had been waiting all week to see! I have been obsessively logging onto Gmail in hopes for this certain reply. I opened it and there it was! The reply I was hoping to see...it was from the director of a local MOPS group. I had called about a week ago to see if I could still join. She said she would have to make sure there was still room in the nursery and would email me to let me know. So here I am today with the answer I was hoping to see, they did have room for the Princess and would love to meet us. Instantly I begin to tremble all over, and start to have trouble breathing. I felt like I was going to throw up. I was having a panic attack. It may seem something silly to have a panic attack over, but this is a big deal for me.
For one, this is a step of acceptance. Acceptance of my life as it is right now, right here. Acceptance that I live here now and that I won't be going back to Kalamazoo anytime soon. That is HUGE for me since my whole life is in Kazoo and we loved living there so much. It's also aceptance that my life is moving ahead. Without Gabe.I have spent the last 6 years of my life fighting like hell to keep my life still for him. Waiting for him to come home from Iraq. Waiting for him to reappear from wherever it was he disappeared to. waiting fro him to come home from Afghanistan. Just waiting. And not moving forward. And now I have to accept that no matter how much I love him, he can't love me back the way I need. The way I deserve. So I am laying down roots and moving forward. So what am I so afraid of? This should be a good thing, right? Something to be celebrated. But here I am, freaking out.
But there's still more to this emotional outburst of mine. As well as being a step of acceptence and huge, gargantuan step forward in my life, it's a step towards rebuilding my life. A step towards the life I want. But why does that scare the hell out of me you ask. I don't really know, I reply. I don't know. Maybe because I have had to rebuild my life four times so far, three of them being since Gabe has come into it. Maybe because this last time, when I lost everything, including The Boy, was so difficult to come back from. I lost material things, yes, but I lost most of myself. Gabe turned out to be violent and possessive, just like The Boy's dad. I lost faith in myself. Faith in my sense of judgement and my ability to make good diecisions. Here I am, in my mid thirties living off of my parents. With two children from two different fathers. And pretty soon my son is going to learn there is a name for women like me. I have learned to hate myself. I've spent the past year beating up on myself and fighting to keep myslef and my family together. And now I am on the other side of everything. I have finally let go of Gabe, something I realistically should have done 5 years ago, I have finally given up on hating myself an have decided to work on getting to know myself again. Rebuilding. And I am SO close to the life I want. Again. But then that is what I am so afraid of.
I have been here many times before. I have built myself up and gotten my life to where I wanted it, just to end up falling in love with some guy and screwing it all up again. Failing is easy. Being a failure is easy. Because you have nothing left to lose. Spending the year at rock bottom has been comfortable. I couldn't really make it worse. I couldn't lose anything else. There was nothing to mess up. I din't have to spen every day waiting for that other shoe to drop. But now, now I will have more to lose. More to work for. And that scares me. Picking myself up has gotten more an more difficult each time I have had to do it, and this last time damn near killed me. It has taken a year and I am just now feeling reay to take baby steps like getting out of the house and meeting other moms.
I have also been filling out job applications. There is one job available that I REALLY want. One that I swear was written for me. But I can't make myself finish the application. Actually, it's done, I just can't hit send. I always hit save. Today is the last day for taking apps, but what if I get the job? What if I don't? Then it is one more failure. One more disappointment. This fear I have developed, it's paralyzing. I am afraid to let people know me anymore. Afraid to leave the house. After Gabe, I just don't trust my instincts anymore. I saw myself so differently than he saw me. What if I was lying to myself and his perception of me was the right one? He is always making little "jokes" about how dumb I am or how lazy I am or how stubborn or spoiled I am. But I don't see myself as being that bad. Could I have been wrong about myself? I was wrong about him.
I look at the options and opportunities ahead of me and realize that I am at a crossroad. I can decide to stay stagnant, penniless, friendless, hopeless, and depressed, or I can decide to put myself out there and take chances. A leap of faith. Sure I might fail, but I might also succeed. And if there is one thing my life's decisions have taught me, it's that you can't truly succeed without failing first. I look behind me and realize this crossroad is on a hill. A hill that I have climbed and conquered, that the rest is now downhill if I choose the right road. I have all of the proper equipment: supportive family and friends, strong faith, a degree, the ability to make friends... now it is up to me to make the right decision. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and take a leap....
For one, this is a step of acceptance. Acceptance of my life as it is right now, right here. Acceptance that I live here now and that I won't be going back to Kalamazoo anytime soon. That is HUGE for me since my whole life is in Kazoo and we loved living there so much. It's also aceptance that my life is moving ahead. Without Gabe.I have spent the last 6 years of my life fighting like hell to keep my life still for him. Waiting for him to come home from Iraq. Waiting for him to reappear from wherever it was he disappeared to. waiting fro him to come home from Afghanistan. Just waiting. And not moving forward. And now I have to accept that no matter how much I love him, he can't love me back the way I need. The way I deserve. So I am laying down roots and moving forward. So what am I so afraid of? This should be a good thing, right? Something to be celebrated. But here I am, freaking out.
But there's still more to this emotional outburst of mine. As well as being a step of acceptence and huge, gargantuan step forward in my life, it's a step towards rebuilding my life. A step towards the life I want. But why does that scare the hell out of me you ask. I don't really know, I reply. I don't know. Maybe because I have had to rebuild my life four times so far, three of them being since Gabe has come into it. Maybe because this last time, when I lost everything, including The Boy, was so difficult to come back from. I lost material things, yes, but I lost most of myself. Gabe turned out to be violent and possessive, just like The Boy's dad. I lost faith in myself. Faith in my sense of judgement and my ability to make good diecisions. Here I am, in my mid thirties living off of my parents. With two children from two different fathers. And pretty soon my son is going to learn there is a name for women like me. I have learned to hate myself. I've spent the past year beating up on myself and fighting to keep myslef and my family together. And now I am on the other side of everything. I have finally let go of Gabe, something I realistically should have done 5 years ago, I have finally given up on hating myself an have decided to work on getting to know myself again. Rebuilding. And I am SO close to the life I want. Again. But then that is what I am so afraid of.
I have been here many times before. I have built myself up and gotten my life to where I wanted it, just to end up falling in love with some guy and screwing it all up again. Failing is easy. Being a failure is easy. Because you have nothing left to lose. Spending the year at rock bottom has been comfortable. I couldn't really make it worse. I couldn't lose anything else. There was nothing to mess up. I din't have to spen every day waiting for that other shoe to drop. But now, now I will have more to lose. More to work for. And that scares me. Picking myself up has gotten more an more difficult each time I have had to do it, and this last time damn near killed me. It has taken a year and I am just now feeling reay to take baby steps like getting out of the house and meeting other moms.
I have also been filling out job applications. There is one job available that I REALLY want. One that I swear was written for me. But I can't make myself finish the application. Actually, it's done, I just can't hit send. I always hit save. Today is the last day for taking apps, but what if I get the job? What if I don't? Then it is one more failure. One more disappointment. This fear I have developed, it's paralyzing. I am afraid to let people know me anymore. Afraid to leave the house. After Gabe, I just don't trust my instincts anymore. I saw myself so differently than he saw me. What if I was lying to myself and his perception of me was the right one? He is always making little "jokes" about how dumb I am or how lazy I am or how stubborn or spoiled I am. But I don't see myself as being that bad. Could I have been wrong about myself? I was wrong about him.
I look at the options and opportunities ahead of me and realize that I am at a crossroad. I can decide to stay stagnant, penniless, friendless, hopeless, and depressed, or I can decide to put myself out there and take chances. A leap of faith. Sure I might fail, but I might also succeed. And if there is one thing my life's decisions have taught me, it's that you can't truly succeed without failing first. I look behind me and realize this crossroad is on a hill. A hill that I have climbed and conquered, that the rest is now downhill if I choose the right road. I have all of the proper equipment: supportive family and friends, strong faith, a degree, the ability to make friends... now it is up to me to make the right decision. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and take a leap....
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