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A Work in Progress

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The Things We Do Not See

The other morning I was rushing around getting ready for work when I suddenly noticed a light switch I have never seen before. I flipped it wondering what it went to.

The light, halfway up the staircase came on.

I stood there for a moment.

We’ve lived in this house for 3 years and I had never seen this light switch. How many times had I gone up the stairs to turn off that light midway up the stairs because the kids had left it on?

This made me wonder, how many other things and people am I not seeing in my life that are right there. Right in front of me?

I can’t answer that question, because I haven’t seen those people and things. But what I can do is keep a more open mind, a curious mind, one that seeks to see people and things done for me.

Going into the mental health profession, I wasn’t prepared for all the knowledge about myself I’m gleaning. It opens a whole new lens to see myself with.

Just like the light on the wall.

It’s time to stop walking past and start really seeing myself.

I sometimes think back to the early years of my kids lives. They were born in 2006 and 2007. Until 2015 I dealt with debilitating back pain. In 2013 I had my first back surgery which didn’t work. In 2015 I had my second surgery and almost 8 years later I’m still doing well.

But those early years meant a lot of mom laying on the couch or bed, trips to doctors, emergency rooms, and chiropractors. When we were preparing for my second surgery my daughter was terrified what would happen to her and her brother. She remembered that after the first surgery I couldn’t do much. Who was going to take care of them? Who was going to feed them?

As I remembered this today, it struck me that my husband and my roles are reversed now. He is frequently in hospital, or at doctors when I can drag him there (men!)., in bed and not feeling well. Now they worry about him.

Who is going to be there for them when he cannot?

Parents are central to a child’s survival and psyche. It is from them a lot of our self talk comes from. It is from them often we learn to rely a lot on others or be very independent.

I worry that because of all the physical pain I was dealing with, which in turn greatly affected my mental health, I was not enough. Add to that dealing with other people in the family’s mental health and the strain it put on me.

Did I raise children who will sit on a therapist’s couch one day because their mother ruined them? Because she wasn’t emotionally or physically available?

As they are teenagers now, I wonder through these years of their hating me one minute and breaking down to tell you they love you the next. Did I fill their needs? They were fed and clothed.

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.

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…

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.

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.

Managing Mental Health and Filling Your Soul

“My anxiety keeps trying to push through the boundaries of medication and deep breathing.
Sometimes it succeeds.”

Take Your Medicine And Other Self-Care Tips

“As parents of special needs children, we are preached a religion of self-care. We are told repeatedly we have to make time to take care of ourselves or we won’t be able to take care of anyone else. That’s all well and good, but when I was in the thick of the worst of special needs parenting having no idea what I was doing or how to make it through?
I wanted to punch every person who said that to me.”
Read more…

I can do hard things

Tonight when the demons in my head want to take over, I’m reminding myself that I am amazing and I have accomplished things that I dreamt about for years.

I graduated college. I have a BA in psychology. Other people had that. Not me. But now I do.

I’m getting my Master’s degree in Social Work.

I am a published writer.

Yes, my brain and other people are tearing me down and screaming at me that I can’t do anything right.

But the evidence?

The evidence is that I have survived 16 years of special needs parenting. And that is an accomplishment.

I survived 19 years of being a military spouse. Not everyone does that.

I crawled my way though years of severe back pain and 2 surgeries. And I came out the other side.

Anxiety, depression, people who don’t like me and think I’m worthless?

You won’t win.

I will get back up.

I will NOT give up.

I might have to stop and regroup. Give myself breathing room and take my meds.

That doesn’t mean I’m weak or incapable.

It means I am smart enough to recognize when I need help. I’m strong enough to get back up. My brain and the naysayers don’t get to win.

Because I am enough!

Judging A Right To Life or Death

“A couple of years ago, I took a college class entitled Death, Dying, and Bereavement. It was a fascinating class. We talked about different types of death, bereavement, and the act of dying. One of the topics covered was whether people should have the right to choose their death when they are terminally ill. I learned something really important from that class.”
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