This seems to be the week for me to be late getting posts up. (I’m sure you’re all here precisely at 8 AM central, on MWF to read my posts, right?)
I’ve just got some random stuff today.
First, some updates on me:
I’m taking meds daily. Just had an appointment to tweak them as my anti-anxiety med seemed to make me depressed. I’m loving some of the meds though. It’s good to be figuring out all this med stuff. Aside from the low level depression, i’ve been doing much better lately. Certainly better than before i got help.
I’m learning some coping techniques in therapy and I think it’s helping.
I’m trying to be more outgoing to make friends, and to that end, I am taking a college class starting monday! Fiction Writing Workshop. It should be fun, and I’m excited to be going back to college. And i’m nervous.
on my boys:
Kieron definitely has some sensory processing issues, but getting him more comfy, knit shorts and only having him wear tagless shirts is helping with that a lot.
I’ll need new socks and shoes for him, too, or else he’ll wear crocs all winter. around here, that might be okay 😀
We went bowling and he refused to wear the bowling shoes. Fortunately, I explained his problem to the guy at the desk, who said Kieron could bowl barefoot! thank-you for understanding, bowling guy! sometimes asking for help and accomodation really pays off.
Aiden is still up and down a lot. we had a needs assessment scheduled – our first foot in the door – but it fell through (they flaked on us). Mental health care is scarce where we live and everywhere is very busy. We’ll have to schedule a new one.
around the web:
Did you catch me on Ramblings of Sheldon writing about how complicated it can be to live with mental illness?
Here was a powerful piece by the Other Lana, sure to challenge traditional ideas of Hell and God.
The mass grave evoked shivers. I saw flashbacks, in my mind, of what must have happened. Axes came against the men’s heads, the women after months of rape and work at the labor camp lost their lives, and together they were thrown into the massive grave, and then their spirits kept falling and falling and falling and falling. Until they met the creator who said, “You aren’t in the lambs book of life.”
This. Was. My. Faith.
another piece on Hell that spurred many thoughts including I think Lana’s post above. As you all probably know by now, I’m not a christian any more. But before I left I decided that the Gospel as it is frequently presented is more about Hell and God being ready to send you there, and that is NOT gospel. not good news at all. For those remaining Christian, I think there are other ways to understand it.
Fear of hell is certainly a powerful weapon to wield in the crusade to “win” converts. It’s brutally efficient in its ability to slash deep down into our innermost fears. But if that is what spurs us to “faith,” then our faith isn’t really faith at all.
Libby Anne of Love, Joy, Feminism talks honestly about her triggers
When you’re triggered it doesn’t matter how badly your day was going, it’s suddenly crap. It doesn’t matter what interesting things you were working on or thinking about, they’re drowned out by the feeling of tension and dread that suddenly suffuses your body from head to toe. Your sense of feeling is heightened and it’s hard to function.
I identified with so much of this post: “Dear people who do not have a child with disabilities”
Please read it so that you know how to relate to parents who do. If you don’t have time, I guess I could sum it all up with ‘platitudes are unhelpful and hurtful’. Feel with us, never judge us and please don’t resort to trite sayings. We aren’t special powerful moms and dads, we’re just moms and dads, walking the hard road of having a child with difficulties we may not even understand.
One note underlies all of these statements, and it is this: Please be quiet. You don’t mean to say that, but platitudes are conversation stoppers, and when we hear them, we hear you begging us, please don’t show me this anguish because I can’t bear it. I don’t know what to do and if you would be quiet I would be much more comfortable. I’m telling you this because I think most people don’t want to be saying that, but what is there to do? A friend (or family member, or acquaintance, or stranger) is in pain, and what am I to do? I don’t understand this. It’s scary. It’s weird. It’s so other you might as well be beaming me a message from Planet Zergon.