Living Well Is the Best Revenge (GBE2 #115 Topic: Faith)

I go out of my way to try NOT to write about autism.  

For starters, there are so many other bloggers that do a much better job of capturing life with autism than I feel I could.

And then...my life with autism...isn't really all that difficult.  I see what other parents go through...what other children have to endure...the lives of some of the individuals that I have cared for during the course of my career...and I figure that I'm pretty damn lucky!

On their worst days, my kids just seem to be a little weird. 

Nathan can come across as kind of a jerk...uncaring...cold...a kid who has no use for the world around him or the people in it.  It's just his way...personal connections are difficult for him and sometimes, I think he'd prefer it if we all communicated in the virtual world--his comfort zone being almost strictly behind a keyboard.  But there can just as many moments when he does engage with us and his smile and sarcastic sense of humor--that took forever for him to develop (he had no idea we were joking for years!!)--light up the entire room.  

Bear is Nathan's opposite.  He loves to interact...too much sometimes.  He loves to ramble on and on (and on...) about his favorite topics:  the video games, Minecraft and Skyrim, and watching videos on Youtube.  Even at the age of almost eleven...and at the size of a small adult...his favorite place to be is wedged between Jeff and I on the couch with me scratching some part of his body.  He walks around the house with "t-rex arms" and spins around and/or flaps his hands (what he has named "advanced jazz hands") whenever he hears the theme song to the television show "The Big Bang Theory". 

Nathan has one really good friend.  Bear maintains that his family are the only friends he needs.

While Nathan tends to keep things inside and doesn't like to talk about what's bothering him, Bear freaks out about almost anything and is prone to meltdowns over seemingly minor things.  As Bear has matured, the meltdowns have become smaller and easier to come back from...but they still happen...frequently.

These differences, I think, are why Bear was easily diagnosed at the age of five but Nathan wasn't diagnosed with Asperger's until he was fifteen.  Bear can be loud, obnoxious, and rude.  Nathan is generally quiet and well-mannered.  Adults like Nathan because, even when he was younger, he acted like a tiny adult.  Bear's emotional and social age is at least 3 years younger than he actually is.  A ten year old, who is five feet tall and weighs 150 pounds, having a "temper tantrum" like a five year old isn't an easy pill to swallow for people who just don't get it.

All of Bear's life, people have shunned him.  Sometimes he notices....sometimes he doesn't.  And sometimes, people pull me aside to tell me what a rotten child he is and how it's all our fault!

Sometimes...they say these things when he is in earshot! 

We didn't discipline him enough.

We coddle him.

He isn't really on the autism spectrum--we're just bad parents.

He doesn't need special ed--just a good smack every once in a while.

He should know better not to give us a hard time by this age.

You dropped the ball with this kid...shame on you!!

Sometimes, these statements come from people who are supposed to be loving and supportive.

Often, the very idea that people feel that way--when they are supposed to love us unconditionally--causes more pain and anger than I can handle.

But I have faith.

Not necessarily in them...but in my kid.  That he will continue to be the happy, charming, amazing kid he's always been...and that he will grow into an even more amazing adult.

Proof...

that we never dropped the ball....

Strenth of Character (GBE2 #58--Topic: Strength)

In the original GBE, one of my first posts was about pet peeves.  One of those peeves was when people pronounce the word 'strength' (or length) without the 'G' sound.  The sound of a person saying "strenth" or "lenth" can make me cringe like nails on a chalkboard.

Now, I realize that the pronunciation of these words is a regional thing.  Whether we use that g-sound in those words mostly depends on where in this country we've spent the majority of our years--much like whether you call your sparkly carbonated beverage soda or pop...or even just a coke.  It might be a peeve of mine but I understand that it's not wrong and I've never meant any insult to those who feel that G is silent.

But there's a reason why it's nails on a chalkboard for me.  And it has nothing to do with the words themselves...but rather the first person that I'd ever encountered that pronounced those words in that manner.

Mrs. Angerame.  My ninth grade math teacher.

Math has never been my strong suit.  Even as big a nerd as I claim to be, getting a passing grade in math was always a struggle.  Despite this, I'd been accelerated a year ahead in math since the sixth grade.  In my freshman year of high school, I was taking tenth grade math, which in New York State in the early 90's, meant geometry.

I was lost.  Not just lost in math....lost in just about every aspect of my life.  All my friends had deserted me (there is a post about that somewhere...) and my father had just died.  I spent most of my free time eating, writing, listening to music and eating some more.  My studies were lost in a sea of procrastination.  Looking back, I can plainly see what a mess I was...but at the time...well it just felt normal

When grades came in, my mom was displeased.  I needed to get back on track.  I needed to get serious.  A 30 in math was not going to fly in our family.

I went to my teacher.  I asked her if there was a time before school started that we could meet so that I could get some extra help.  I asked her if I could meet with her on my lunch break.  There were reasons why I could not stay after school but I tried to take responsibility and get the help that I needed.

She told me if I couldn't come after school then there was no way she could help me.

Each day spent in that class, I felt like I was drowning.  I asked for help.  I told her I didn't understand.  She made me feel small and stupid almost daily.

Then one day, she said something that angers me to this day.

"Stephanie, it's a wonder that you've been properly toilet trained seeing as you can't even comprehend simple math."

So...because I struggled to understand GEOMETRY (not simple math by a long shot...), I must be mentally deficient and should feel fortunate that I could even wipe my own ass.

From a teacher, that is absurdly unacceptable.

She has no idea how much that abusive comment affected me.  As the other students chuckled at her words, I felt ever smaller and more stupid.  I already felt like I didn't belong and this just made things worse.  I knew she was out of line but a small part of me was afraid that it might be true.  Being smart was who I was....my whole identity...if I didn't have that...well, then I had absolutely nothing to hold onto.

Somehow, even without her "simple math", I managed to go to college, have a rewarding job, get married and make some pretty amazing (and smart) babies.  I even manage that ass-wiping thing on a daily basis.  I'd like her to know that I turned out pretty damn great...no thanks to her.

Mostly, I'd like her to know that she failed that day--both as a teacher and a human being.  She had the power and the strength (or strenth) to help guide a student who had lost her way. 

But instead of building me up, she chose to knock me down.

I hope she's proud.









 

Toxic Cycle (GBE2 #55 Topic: High School)

Who knows what actually started the argument but it was happening.  Yelling, screaming...two teenagers alone in an empty house.  He always got angry and she always felt the need to defend herself.

If only he could SEE her point of view then he would understand.  He would stop being mad and they could get back to all the fun stuff that comes with being high school sweethearts.

It was a non-stop cycle.  He would use his angry words as weapons-- Each one burning, cutting, bleeding her.  Although she felt she was a master with words who could talk her way out of anything, none of her words ever stopped his verbal blows from pummeling her.  He would keeping yelling...keep saying horrible things to her...until she snapped.

Until she hit him.

And when she hit him...in his mind...this was the permission he needed to hit her back.

Walking away never occurred to her.  Friends had talked to her and she knew that they raised valid points.  But they loved each other.  And you didn't turn your back on love...ever.

Besides, no other boy would ever want to date her.  Who else would be interested in the fat, nerdy, red-head.  Nobody else had shown an interest so far and she doubted that anybody ever would.

He asked her to leave.  Yelled at her to get out of the house.  It was his house and he didn't want her here.  If she didn't leave he was going to make her leave.  She was stubborn.  She told him she wasn't going anywhere...they were going to have to work things out.  Right now.

He chased her through the house--down the stairs and into the kitchen.  In the blink of eye, she found herself on the floor.  He was on top of her--with a butcher knife to her throat!  They lay there...hot, sweaty, gasping for breath...tears in her eyes...anger in his...this was so much worse than anything that had ever happened before.

She snapped.  Hysterical.  How could he put a knife to her throat???  She was crying, screaming...irrational.  Arms and legs were flailing in every direction yet somehow they ended back upstairs in his room.  His thirteen-year old sister had come home and overheard the screams.

It's all right he told her...she doesn't know what she's saying...she's still upset about her grandmother dying...she's just had a breakdown...that's all.  Don't mention it to anyone because she'll be embarrassed.

In the room as he held her he told her she wasn't to speak a word about what happened to anyone.  It was a mistake...he was sorry...besides it was her fault because she wouldn't leave...and because she hit him first....

This wasn't how I spent every day in high school...but it was how I spent many a day.  I'm not saying that it was always a knife to the throat--that was an extreme day--but I endured a continuous cycle of abuse.  We were very toxic together.  For about a year and I half...I was out of that relationship but then...I went back.  I went back and married him.  It wasn't always this bad...but interspersed between the happy memories are a whole bunch of horrible ones.  Horrible memories similar to this one...


And leaving...I think...was the best thing I could have ever done...for both of us.

If there is one thing I'd like to express by sharing this it would be:  THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER BOY (OR GIRL)!!!  There is never any excuse for living like this.  There is never an excuse to stay.  Walking away is always the smartest answer.  Each one of us is special in our own way and there will be someone who will not only love and appreciate us but will also treat us with respect. 

Wait for that person...no matter how long it takes. 

'Cause I'm a Rebel Like That (30 Days of Truth Challenge Days 2 & 3)

I'm a day behind so I'm playing catch up. 

The question for day two is:  What is something that you regret not doing last year?  I'm honestly not sure about this one.  For the most part, I live according to a 'Back to the Future'-esque philosophy.  In other words, if I could go back and change anything that I've already done....then I wouldn't be where I am right now.  I try to live life without too many regrets.  If we are always worrying about what we did or didn't do in certain situations, then we are going to miss out on a lot of great things that are right in front of us.  Right now. 

Day three wants to know:  What is something with which you struggle? 

Ha!  Just one thing??  I could write an entire book on that! 

Procrastination is one of the many things that I struggle with.  I am really bad when it comes to getting things done.  Especially if what I need to do involves making phone calls!  But I generally procrastinate over just about everything.  If it can be put off for another day...then I will put it off.  I've tried making lists and schedules for myself but I also seem to come up with a way to justify not doing whatever goals I set for myself.

Which is why I'm combining two posts into one.

You can call it procrastinating.

Today, I will call it being a rebel.