dear sweet boy
December 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
I wish there were a way to gather you close and reassure you that this too shall pass. Unkindness and ignorance draw you deeper into yourself, but the gifts that others cannot yet see will create a life bigger than this moment. You will know love because you give love; you will know success because you do not let others define your boundaries; you will find peace because you know how to look within to find it. Of course, none of this lessens your struggles.
Your peers are not yet mature enough to appreciate your strengths. Your interests are fascinating, but even your father and I struggle to comprehend your theories. Some seem so far-fetched, we sometimes lose sight of your ability to embrace the impossible with an imagination unhindered by the suffocating constraints of can’t. I hope you continue to reach for the stars; when others place roadblocks, build ladders.
Here’s another secret: teachers are people. They begin each school year with a group of new faces and planned course material. You challenge your teachers each day to step outside their own perceptions drawing them into that same place of impossible possibility. Much like peers that do not understand, teachers too are trying to learn as they go. Mistakes are inevitable, patience is mandatory.
You already know your father and I are imperfect. We get frustrated, sad, overwhelmed too. Each night we sit beside you going through the motions of homework mindful of your challenges but insistent that you can do anything. The very hurdles that sometimes make you fall also teach you how to fly.
Your sister is your greatest friend, don’t roll your eyes. In Second Grade two classmates were pushing you and mocking you on the playground. Before I could speak your sister ran ahead and blocked you with her smaller form. She guards you when others are unkind; walks beside you trying to keep up; sometimes she gestures you ahead navigating the road ahead from behind. If you reach out your hand, you will find your sister’s waiting.
Life is not easy. I cannot promise you kindness from strangers, I can only remind you that your worth is not measured by others. Happiness is not something you can be given or I would wipe away all your heartache. Instead, I can promise you a shoulder to cry on and a place to sort your thoughts while you find your way. If you look up, you will see those that love you are always within reach.
Love, Mom
hug therapy
December 7, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son is navigating the social space of Middle School with a fresh perspective on dealing with unkindness. Our experiences with bullies are littered with empty words of wisdom. Let me outline a few of the well-intentioned expressions parents, teachers, and other adults use to comfort a child victimized by bullies.
Just ignore them. This doesn’t always deter the committed bully. For some it raises the bar and encourages a more determined effort to gain a reaction.
Walk away. This only works if the bully chooses not to follow. See the aforementioned determined species.
Don’t let them bother you. You are better than that. This one attempts to use flattery to over-ride unkindness. Words hurt.
Tell an adult. This assumes that the adult will listen and then address the situation in a manner that does not place the bullied in direct proximity with the bully. Often times this is where the victim becomes the Tattletale and the bully becomes Misunderstood.
Push back. This one is a little out-dated. Now it isn’t politically correct to defend yourself.
My son, discouraged by adults talking around the problem, proposed a new theory. He came to me after school yesterday joyful over his solution. He said: Mom, everyone says stay away from a bully and it never works. I have a better idea. If you hug the bully they walk away and leave you alone. I tested it and it works!
Once a child myself, I am aware within this theory there lies an assumption that the other child will not punch the hugger. Still, I had to marvel that my son, despite hateful words and physical confrontations chose an act of kindness to treat acts of hate and applauded the unique suggestion. (Then I e-mailed school staff to make certain they were on the lookout for hug therapy sessions.)
What would you tell your child to do in a similar situation?
support systems
November 28, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently I began a humbling exercise in trust, reaching out for and accepting help as I navigate new experiences parenting a child with special needs. One question remains unanswered among new discussions: Have I joined a support group?
Denial says, I don’t need help. I can do this. Our problems are manageable. We will be okay. I’m okay.
Fear whispers, What if this problem is bigger than me? What if walking inside the problem I become lost to an identity that swallows me whole and leaves less of myself.
Some of my apprehension stems from waiting room induced anxiety. The air often feels stifling, consumed with sadness or anger until I cannot breathe fresh air void of projected pain. I hesitate to give voice to my own doubts and fears, afraid they will suffocate others with their weight.
Instead, I endeavor to gift myself private moments of peace. I have returned to my treadmill; chasing answers and running from uncertainty. Writing, releasing thoughts for safekeeping when they are too burdensome to carry with me in the cramped spaces of my mind. Reading, stepping outside my thoughts and temporarily escaping into another’s. Small acts of self kindness; these are my support systems, lending me strength and serenity.
tinkering for troubles
November 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
Thanksgiving was quiet, the meal lent us substance, but our spirits were weighted. My son began to unravel, stirrings of sadness, frustration, and anger finding a voice; he stepped out of the solitary space of his thoughts and released tears of frustration. It was an exhausting exercise, to absorb his anger and sadness; sharing his pain while keeping mine bundled; demonstrating concern while processing the problem logically, looking for an opportunity to make sense and offer support.
Normally my son recedes into a game or music when he cannot calm himself. The holiday had established new boundaries that asked him to set aside individual entertainment for the company of family and friends. The effort to engage became overwhelming and the day culminated when we had to address a social faux pas. My son used a word that sounded like an inappropriate word. As I typically do, I pulled him aside for a quick teaching moment. Quickly my efforts to guide resulted in a difficult lesson. This was our exchange:
I need you to understand that using the word you used is inappropriate.
I didn’t use an inappropriate word.
Unfortunately the word you used sounds too close to another word, which is inappropriate, and you cannot use either word.
But I didn’t do anything wrong.
You aren’t in trouble, but using that words creates a problem and you will be seen as acting inappropriately.
(And this is where patience crumbled and recent injuries swelled absorbing the moment with tears and anger.)
I am not a bad kid! Why do bad kids get away with everything and I get in trouble for nothing?
Now we were at the heart of the harm. The greatest injuries often rest in a place of injustice. Life is full of disappointment hidden beneath good intentions. My son in his flurry of anger revealed a secondary harm, he felt the burden of discontent over life’s inconsistencies. I had become part of the imbalance of fairness. I couldn’t broaden the scope of his perspective to see that the separate events were not equal, because my son was lost to the space between hurts.
He walked away from me and found comfort in the easy company of a friend. Under the patient watch of his friend, my son folded himself into a compact crouched pose and began tinkering inside an unused oven in our hosts’ basement. In this endeavor he was peaceful. I couldn’t make sense of the transition. It was as if a switch had been flipped and the negative energy had slipped away like an ill-fitting sheath. Tinkering, my son began to relax and resume a more even-tempered spirit; eyes bright with curiosity.
I note this because I felt like one learning a secret and wondered if great inventors or adventurers felt the same sense of awe when uncovering new knowledge. I wanted to scribble against the sky:
For my son to unwind, he must engage physically and mentally in an activity transferring his energy into something mechanical.
A wave of hope washed over me. My son had revealed a source of self soothing that I can try to duplicate and facilitate in different environments. It is another path on an amazing journey that I have only begun to understand.
full heart
November 24, 2011 § Leave a comment
Thanksgiving began with my daughter’s giggles as she snuggled deeply beneath the covers sandwiched between my husband and myself. We fought of consciousness as she warded of sleep and slowly we welcomed the day together. My son slumbers peacefully, long limbs tossed casually across his bed lost to dreams. The past couple of weeks have brought moments of sadness and joy, each felt passionately with a full heart. Today, I pause to give thanks for the everyday moments that center my days in gratitude all year-long. Even on the darkest day, I wake to the light of my family.
hate
November 22, 2011 § 1 Comment
It is a little word that settles between actions, intentions, innuendo, and speech. Hateful words seep into the cracks of self-doubt, insecurity, unhappiness and push forcefully against the strength of self-esteem. My husband and I build invisible walls of self-respect around our children and then watch mindfully for signs of stress, tiny cracks in the mortar.
Yesterday a group of children used hateful words, pelting them against my son’s esteem like chunks of rock against brick leaving scars against his spirit. He knew the words were false, but the harm could not be undone. My husband and I set aside our sadness and anger, meeting our son’s confusion and hurt with honesty and truth. The words were unacceptable, inappropriate, ugly, and hurtful. We named the pain and then nurtured the wound, gathering our son close and listening while he processed the harm in a place of strength. He measured his worth and named the unkindness, marking the moment as an ugliness centered in others; his self-esteem greater than the weight of another’s words.
I will not dwell on my grief, but I will acknowledge the sadness I could not shake. It followed me intimately shadowing my movements and filling up my light with darkness. I let it sit inside my voice when I called the school and spoke to teachers; sharing the burden of responsibility, gathering witnesses to that unseen, holding each of us within my son’s days accountable for this invisible scar to his spirit.
a season of thanks & giving
November 13, 2011 § 2 Comments
My little girl is aware of the season, but her daydreams are filled with Christmas. She has begun checking the calendar, counting days, making wishes, and painstakingly writing her list. In sentences sprinkled with upper case and lower case letters, her careful penmanship marked items not for herself, but for family. Something special for her big brother and father, a space for my indecisiveness, but nothing for herself.
Her own wish came spontaneously, with certainty and whimsy, but remained unlisted as her attention was quickly redirected to details of Christmas Eve day; healthy snacks for Santa and a gift to make his job easier. Her blue eyes were wide with intention and sincerity as she outlined her thoughts. Her enthusiasm for giving outshining the eagerness in her own request.
This morning my daughter and I began gathering toys that have sat unused in need of homes for the holidays; making room for something new and sharing something unused; finding joy in what we do not need and gratitude for that which we have. Our minds are wrapped around Christmas, but our hearts filled with Thanksgiving.
next
November 12, 2011 § Leave a comment
This small word has been chasing tirelessly though my thoughts all week. I recently became aware my son needs greater support at school. The realization and acceptance of new challenges has brought into my days both uncertainty and hope for what comes next.
I say uncertain; not of my son, of myself. I am more comfortable a safe distance outside conflict, now I must sit inside conflict. Seeking the council of others who have had to ask for support in the space of middle school, I have been forewarned of potential resistance and advised to accept nothing less than excellence from administrators, educators, and therapists. My son’s education rests on these moments of possibility, his potential for success in school rests on my success in preliminary meetings as we define needs and outline support.
Guiding me through piles of paperwork is an advocate with experience aiding families of children on the Autism Spectrum in the heavily coded language of Individual Education Plans. Yesterday I received a new e-mail walking me through my next meeting. I hold onto this woman’s words like a life line, aware I will soon sit at another conference table faced with the responsibility of speaking up in a space I feel uncertain and where the stakes could not be higher.
I will ask for evaluations I did not previously know my son needed in a language that feels new on my tongue. Guilt over my previous ignorance breeds shame. To build confidence I have begun researching the evaluations I must ask for, studying what I do not understand. I carry with me new knowledge and a standard of accountability based in awareness. I draw strength from another’s words:
When you know better you do better. ~ Maya Angelou
Hope for a better future and knowledge lead me forward. Consciousness opens the door, but intention guides me into a place of possibility.
*It is important to note that while this blog represents my perspective, my husband accompanies me on this journey. Due to the early morning scheduling of our next meeting, I will attend the meeting while my husband prepares our children for school. It is a decision we made together. I speak with one voice, but I am mindful that my husband is my partner in this ongoing endeavor.
literally speaking
November 5, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son has a tendency for literal definitions. The other day, when asked how he was, he told my friend he was gay. Out loud, in a middle school hallway, he outed himself as happy. A week later, he used the word gay in a classroom and was reprimanded. I am now struggling to determine how to explain context and innuendo appropriately for my literally speaking son.
My conflict rests between definitions and defining. My son’s original understanding of “happy” is not incorrect, but to others may not feel appropriate for reasons outside my son’s comprehension. A peer explained to my son that gay is when two boys like one another. My son likes lots of friends, some of them boys. Literally, the second definition is missing something too, but my son does not yet know about the birds and the bees and I am not sure either of us is ready for that conversation. So how do I approach the unspoken innuendo without supplementing context outside my son’s knowledge?
To add another layer of complexity, I like that my son doesn’t define people by color, faith, or sexual preference. I am hesitant to begin dividing people into categories to explain a misinterpretation. I am lost in translation, literally.
scribblechic 