I Have A Dream

I Have A Dream

In 2018 I took hold of my dream of finishing school and becoming a therapist, despite my not being sure of being able to pull it off. In 2021 I graduated with my Bachelors in Psychology and started my Masters in Social Work. Now I’m currently working on my first of two internships.

As time as gone on and my knowledge has grown, this vision of becoming a mental health therapist, this dream, has continued to grow.

I have a dream of owning my own therapy practice.

But that is only the beginning. I dream of working with a psychiatrist who uses alternative forms of healing as well as psychiatric medication. I want a massage therapist and a acupuncturist on staff. I have found a huge benefit in those forms of treatment both in my physical and mental health and I believe they could be an important part of healing for many people.

I don’t want to be in a strip mall in a nondescript building. I want a small building in the middle of trees surrounded by a therapy garden. Somewhere where clients can go to heal and meditate and find peace. Where they can work in the ground and watch things grow. Where the things that grow there can feed their bodies and souls. A place where yoga classes can take place on a grassy knoll. A big gazebo where group therapy sessions can be held. To help support the garden, it could be a place for small baby showers, weddings, bridal showers, garden and book clubs when it isn’t in use by the clinic.

I want healing to happen. Strength and resilience to build. A place where everyone feels safe, welcome, and accepted.

It started with a small dream of becoming a therapist. And it keeps growing.

Will My Kids Say I Was Enough?

“Did I fill their needs? They were fed and clothed.

Did they know they were loved? I tried to spend quality time with them.

Was it enough?”

Read more…

You Never Thought You’d Deal With Truancy

“Having a special needs child often means that our kids miss a lot of school. So to prevent entanglements with the truancy officer, learn from my experiences and make sure you get every single doctor’s note turned in.”
Read more…

Earthquake Preparedness: What You Need to Know

” It is just the three of us in the office in the quiet, cold, morning. I go back to my emails and a few moments later, there is a low rumble, I look up, thinking it must be one of facility’s trucks rumbling by. The sound increases. Suddenly there is a loud BOOM! as the ground begins to shake and roll. I am nauseous from the rolling of the ground as I stumble towards my door.”
Read more…

What Going Back To Work Has Taught Me

What Going Back To Work Has Taught Me

“It has been good for me to relearn my shortcomings and learn to let things go. It’s been good for my family to learn the world (or Mom) doesn’t revolve around them all the time. Reaching for my dreams has sparked a fire in me that makes me happy. “
Read more…

Going Gray

Going Gray

It’s a right of passage for everyone. If you grow old enough, you’re going to find those pesky gray hairs- everywhere!

I found my first one a week before my 20th birthday. Thank you Mom for those genetics… At about 28 I started dying my hair. At 42, 43? 44? I have considerable gray but compared to some of my friends who have gone completely gray I still have a lot of natural color.

Gray takes getting used to.

It takes acceptance and self love.

And I’m just not there yet.

At the beginning of the pandemic when no one could get into their hair stylists, I toyed with the idea of letting it go natural. Several friends have. But I just couldn’t. I found myself at the grocery store buying color to cover all that gray up.

Fast forward 3 years and my hair stylist seemed to be ghosting me and once again I found myself toying with the idea of letting it go natural. But I just can’t. Instead I’m dragging myself out on a Saturday morning sitting for hours to get my hair done. I don’t know when I’ll be ready to accept the march of time showing up in my hair.

To all of you who have chosen to show off your gorgeous gray locks, I salute you! You are brave and beautiful!

I’m going to hide mine just a little longer. Maybe one day I’ll call it good and rock the gray streaks that frame my face like Morticia from the Adams family. Until that time, I’ll put in the time at my stylist’s.

Triggers: Because of Trauma

Triggers: Because of Trauma

I haven’t been writing as much about my son and his special needs. There are a lot of reasons for that. Part of it is because as he grows older I have come to realize that it is his story to tell and he deserves to have that right to share when and if he pleases.

Image by yogesh more from Pixabay

At the same time, I have a story too, and I think it’s important to share my story and be honest about what it is like raising a child with special needs. This story hasn’t ended even though I share less about it. This story is part of who I am now.

The end of May marked the end of school for my children and they are out for the summer. Their Dad and I both work so they are home alone and are probably loving that we aren’t there making them get up before noon as they are teenagers now.

About seven years ago, we started using doorknobs with key pads. At that time our son was really struggling. It was for safety so that when things got out of control his sister and I could escape to a room to be safe. We also use them on our pantry because he cannot control his eating. He has access to plenty of food, but having a place he cannot get into ensures there’s some food left over for the rest of us. These doorknobs have worked REALLY well for us.

As I said, my children are home for the summer, and my daughter didn’t want to get out of bed yet and get the Cheerios out of the pantry that my son wanted for breakfast. So she told him the code.

SHE TOLD HIM THE CODE!

We started using these doorknobs when the doctors were telling us to send our daughter to live with someone else so she would be safe. During a time when she was thrown into a coffee table with glass that broke and had bruising all over her torso. During a time I had to go have X-rays to ensure my back was okay after being kicked right after back surgery.

This has not been our story for the last couple of years. He’s much calmer and more in control. Food is still very much an issue, but safety is less so at this time.

But what I didn’t realize is the psychological comfort those doorknobs provided me, knowing there were places he couldn’t get to, where we could be safe. This loss has triggered my anxiety big time. It really caught me off guard. Add to that, it was during a time when my husband was out of town, the one person who could control our son when he got out of hand.

I DID NOT FEEL SAFE.

Nothing in my son’s manner caused this. He was doing his usual things and not being threatening in any way. But this was my response to the situation.

Because of trauma.

My trauma response was to immediately feel threatened. For my anxiety to spiral out of control quickly.

This is my story. My response. It isn’t wrong or right, it just is.

Knowing this, I can name my reaction for what it is. I can understand that my reaction is a normal reaction due to my experiences.

I give myself grace.

That being said, it’s also okay to know that I might have to take more of my emergency meds for a while. That things that normally don’t trigger me anymore may start triggering me again. It’s something I have to work through. Whether we get new doorknobs that he doesn’t know the code to, or I learn to let go and breathe, or something else. I will work through this.

This is my story and I choose to tell it.

MASH and Autism

I have fond memories of laying on the living room floor watching MASH with my Dad when I was little. My husband spent 23 years in the military so he’s a big MASH fan. My kids surprisingly love it too. But what does MASH have to do with Autism?

My husband found a book written by the actor who plays Father Mulcahey in the MASH series. It turns out, he and his wife raised a son with Autism. The book details their struggles to find answers and help for him.

If you follow me on Goodreads- or even here for that matter, you’ll know I read a lot. Last year’s number of books read was 108. But there is one narrow genre of books I almost never read any more.

Books about Autism.

When our son first received his diagnoses I over indulged, and then the life that was being described within the pages of the books became all too real. I just couldn’t.

My husband encouraged me to read the book Mixed Blessings by William (Father Mulchey) and Barbara Christopher. So I read it.

Their journey started 50 years ago. I found the book both fascinating and horrifying as I read what they tried, what was recommended by professionals at the time, and how much dedication they put into trying to help their son.

But overwhelmingly? I found it unbelievably depressing to find that things haven’t changed all that much. That many of the things they struggled with- IEP’s, doctors, therapies, shear exhaustion- we are still dealing with these exact same issues 40 and 50 years later. I can’t tell you how heartbreaking this is to realize.

This is why I don’t read books on living with Autism.