I've summed up the entire journey of self-improvement I embarked upon a year and a half ago:
Self-reconciliation.
I've discovered that it's not really about the weight loss or the depression or the anxiety or the anger. They're all very important parts, but they're only part of it. It's really about knowing myself better, and liking myself better.
The funny thing is that it's not even about liking every aspect of myself. It's about refusing to beat myself up about the stuff I don't like. Instead of the negative self-talk that's been a staple of my diet for almost 30 years, I face the things I don't like and choose to change them. If there's something I don't like about myself , it has no place in my life. That negativity turns into a black hole and swallows all the good things. So it's my job to make those black holes as small or nonexistent as possible.
I came to this realisation in a strange and roundabout way.
Bear with me here; it's gonna get a little convoluted.
It all started with the water aerobics. You see, I am afraid of water. I had a bad experience when I was 7 years old, and I've been afraid of deep water ever since. So there's always this edge of fear and panic when I'm in water that's over my head.
When I started water aerobics, I couldn't do the shallow classes because I have problems with my lower back and knees. I needed low-to-no-impact exercise. So I was forced to do the deep water class. This wasn't actually a huge problem for my confidence because you use a floatation belt when in the class. You can sit quite comfortably in the water and not have to do anything to keep your head above the surface.
So going to these classes twice a week actually built up my confidence in the water by giving me the opportunity to enjoy it without fear. I had my "safety net" floatation belt the entire time, so I got to let go of the worry that I could drown. And going twice a week, I got quite good at it. So I decided to make it harder. I would go and pick out a belt for myself, and leave it at the edge of the pool, going until I got tired enough to need the belt. That plan lasted exactly three classes, because by the third time I tried it, I actually went the entire 50-minute class without the belt!
(For the record, I went to the class twice a week for about six months before I tried this, so I was very familiar with the exercises by the time I made the attempt. It was not a rash or poorly thought out decision on my part.)
So suddenly I could actually "swim" for an entire hour in the deep end without any floatation device, and I was so focused on getting the best out of my workout, that I didn't have time for fear.
So I conquered one of my greatest fears over the last year, without actually meaning to do so.
And I discovered that I actually love the water. I love being on it, I love being in it. I love swimming, floating, and just plain treading water. My entire life I've separated myself from something that was always meant to be a part of me because I was afraid. This was a life-changing revelation for me.
Somewhere inside me was an emotional block made of fear, and it kept me from realising something that is actually a core part of my being. Water makes me feel calm, at peace, and completely free. I became a different person when I realised that: calmer and more peaceful and content.
I discovered that I need to dissect my life, and bring all of my fears and faults and mistakes to the surface. I need to face the things that scare me, cut out the parts of myself that I don't like, and I need to rebuild myself as I should be. I need to reconcile myself, to myself, and in the process, create the me I should always have been.
So to that end, I've got a few things in the works that I've done, or I'm planning on doing, that scare me. I went and had boudoir photos done. (Thanks, Maj!) In an effort to face my own body issues and learn to love myself, I had to expose myself, with all my flaws and stretch marks. I haven't seen all the pics yet, but I liked what I saw briefly. I am beautiful. And anyone who disagrees can go ahead and do so, because their opinion just doesn't matter. I'm entering at least one 10k race this year. I will very likely shave my head bald by summer. Just because. And I'm going to try wall climbing. I hate heights.
So my current state of happiness and contentment with my life really has little to do with the fact that I'm not depressed anymore, and that I've lost almost 25lbs in 16 months. It actually happened the other way around. When I began to accept myself and make the effort to change what I didn't like, the weight started to come off, and the depression faded. I feel like right now, I am the best person I have ever been, and there's still soooo much room for improvement. So I'm going to keep trying to do better, to be better.
My failures are valuable lessons learned. My successes are signposts directing me towards a better life. And my life, right now, is better than I could have imagined even a year ago. And by God, it's only going to get better.
Love,
-Nan
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Not-Resolutions
I don't make New Year's resolutions. Never have. I don't see why my goal-setting should be tied to the rolling over of a number. So I don't make em.
That being said, I still have goals for this coming year. And I did a not-bad job of meeting my goals last year.
I didn't meet my weight loss goal. But I did lose 20lbs over the course of the year. I did start a fitness regime that I kept at and maintained. (For the most part.) And when I fell off the wagon and gained 7lbs back, I got back on the wagon and lost them again, getting back into my workouts. I started going for counselling for my depression and anxiety. I have become a more positive and capable person. I turned 30. And I freaking love it.
So that's what I did last year. This is what I've got planned for the one ahead:
I am getting into a stress management group/class to help me deal with my anger and temper issues. I'm tired of yelling all the time. My husband and my kids, and my dog, and I deserve better. So this is me trying to do better.
I am running three miles a day, three times a week. (That's the aim, anyway. Some weeks I do better than others.) I'm training to run 6 miles in 75 minutes. Me and my sisters are going to run a marathon as a relay team in June, so I have to run between 8 and 12 km (depending on which leg I do). I am very nervous/excited about this race. It will be my first race, and doing it with all of my sisters is a great show of solidarity for the four of us, and a great celebration of our individual fitness and weight loss successes over the last few years.
I am done with being anxious and depressed. Done. This doesn't mean I will never have to deal with these issues of mental health. Far from it, in fact. I will always have to deal with them. They're a part of who I am. But I'm done with letting my issues push me around. And regular exercise is helping to keep my anxieties in check.
I recently became hooked on Florence + the Machine. Specifically the song "Shake it Out". It's my anti-anxiety theme song. I am inspired by lines like:
I'm tired of dragging that horse around/
tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
I like to keep my issues strong/
it's always darkest before the dawn
Anxiety and depression are my "horse" and this year with running and fitness I am going to bury that horse. I am tired of dragging the weight, figuratively and literally. So this year I start off by looking back at the successes of last year, and forward with a positive attitude at what I can do with this one. Hope yours has started out as well and if you need any pointers on weight loss and getting started with fitness, let me know. I've learned a few tricks.
Love,
-Nan
That being said, I still have goals for this coming year. And I did a not-bad job of meeting my goals last year.
I didn't meet my weight loss goal. But I did lose 20lbs over the course of the year. I did start a fitness regime that I kept at and maintained. (For the most part.) And when I fell off the wagon and gained 7lbs back, I got back on the wagon and lost them again, getting back into my workouts. I started going for counselling for my depression and anxiety. I have become a more positive and capable person. I turned 30. And I freaking love it.
So that's what I did last year. This is what I've got planned for the one ahead:
I am getting into a stress management group/class to help me deal with my anger and temper issues. I'm tired of yelling all the time. My husband and my kids, and my dog, and I deserve better. So this is me trying to do better.
I am running three miles a day, three times a week. (That's the aim, anyway. Some weeks I do better than others.) I'm training to run 6 miles in 75 minutes. Me and my sisters are going to run a marathon as a relay team in June, so I have to run between 8 and 12 km (depending on which leg I do). I am very nervous/excited about this race. It will be my first race, and doing it with all of my sisters is a great show of solidarity for the four of us, and a great celebration of our individual fitness and weight loss successes over the last few years.
I am done with being anxious and depressed. Done. This doesn't mean I will never have to deal with these issues of mental health. Far from it, in fact. I will always have to deal with them. They're a part of who I am. But I'm done with letting my issues push me around. And regular exercise is helping to keep my anxieties in check.
I recently became hooked on Florence + the Machine. Specifically the song "Shake it Out". It's my anti-anxiety theme song. I am inspired by lines like:
I'm tired of dragging that horse around/
tonight I'm gonna bury that horse in the ground
I like to keep my issues strong/
it's always darkest before the dawn
Anxiety and depression are my "horse" and this year with running and fitness I am going to bury that horse. I am tired of dragging the weight, figuratively and literally. So this year I start off by looking back at the successes of last year, and forward with a positive attitude at what I can do with this one. Hope yours has started out as well and if you need any pointers on weight loss and getting started with fitness, let me know. I've learned a few tricks.
Love,
-Nan
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Exciting New Things
Well, the new things aren't really that new anymore, but they're new since my last post.
I'm going to have to separate this into sections by person because there's lots to cover.
Sean
Sean started preschool in late September through a government program that helps speech-delayed kids catch up before starting school. He's in the same place that his brother was for the last two years so it's very familiar to us. He absolutely loves it there, and his speech has been improving by leaps and bounds! (He was assessed a few months ago and rated in the 5th percentile. This means that 19 out of twenty kids his age have better speaking skills.)
He knows his entire alphabet at three and a half years old. He can actually sound out and read some three- and four-letter words. We've got him doing some preschool video games on his brother's Ipad, which seem to be helping him to learn basic reading skills. It also makes him feel a little less left out where the fun Ipad his brother always gets to use is concerned.
Derek
My husband has been insanely busy at work lately. They lost two experienced people in the space of a week in late August, (one got another job, the other had a baby and is now on maternity leave) and when you combine that with the busiest fall his department has ever seen what you get is lots of overtime and not much time at home with the family. But he's home every night and every weekend so we still get to see much more of Derek than many families do their fathers and husbands.
Noah
Lots and lots and lots has happened since my last post! Noah got approved for government funding for an aide to come to the house to do therapy, as well as 4 hours a month each of speech therapy and occupational therapy. The process was surprisingly painless and not too terribly long. We got more services than we really thought we could ever get.
Noah started Kindergarten in September. I don't have details but I think he kind of freaked out the staff on the first day. We thought that being in two full days a week might be too much for him and it was suggested that Noah attend four half-days instead. (I was against this idea because it would mean that we were deciding to hold Noah back to repeat Kindergarten, and we'd be deciding that just as he started! I wasn't against the idea of him being held back alltogether, but I did think some more time was necessary to make that decision.) He actually settled in very quickly and that whole idea was scrapped by October. Which makes me very happy, of course! Noah has a full-time aide who works just with him, one-on-one, to help him integrate with the class and transition between activities.
Noah's home aide comes over on the three days a week he's not in school. She's here for three hours each of those days. We're seeing some good progress on his self-help and living skills, but his speech is still very poor for his age. (We believe this is part of the reason Sean is so far behind.)
So now Noah has an aide for school, a (different) aide for home, a speech therapist for school, a different speech therapist for home and an occupational therapist who sees Noah both at the school and in our home (which is great, because Lisa is the same therapist who saw Noah in preschool last year, and she's the only familiar face we've had starting out this school year).
Things have gotten kind of hectic.
A really nice recent development in Noah's ongoing therapy is that most of his team have recently gotten training in what is called "R & R" therapy. It stands for "Reference and Regulate". It's a newly developed system created specifically for Autistic individuals. It teaches how to make eye contact and read facial cues and body language. Noah was actually doing this therapy for the last half of last year at preschool, and when he finally started to catch on to it, it was incredible! He learned to make good eye contact and was communicating much better. I'm very excited about him starting this therapy again.
Aaaand....
Noah has started to read. We started him on some learning programs on the computer and Ipad, because he's so fixated on electronics. He can sound out words, and read simple sentences. He can sight read over three dozen words. He'll be turning five a the end of this month.
So lots and lots of progress on the Noah front. One or two years of this kind of intensive therapy should help him immeasurably in the future.
And last but not least...
Me
(I saved the best for last.)
I noticed that I'd been depressed for about three months in August. So I've been going to counselling every two to three weeks since then. It's really nice to have someone who you can talk to who just gives you ideas on how to make things better and doesn't judge.
I threw my back out. Couldn't bend over, etc. I've been going to physiotherapy once a week since then. I haven't been able to go jogging, but the physio has helped. My strength is back and I'm almost entirely pain-free.
Despite this, I have been watching what I eat and I've lost the five pounds I gained back recently. I just hit the "lost a full 20 lbs this year" milestone two days ago! I'm going to try to lose another 10 to 20 lbs by next summer.
I had to get an Iphone to remind me of my appointments because between Noah and I, we've got a lot of appointments all of a sudden and I was starting to flake out and forget them. Those stupid little gadgets are freaking addictive! Books on my phone?! How am I ever supposed to get anything done now?
So that's my life over the last 2+ months. I've been busy and avoiding this blog. I've been thinking about writing a novel and it's been making me nervous and I think that's been making me neglect Finding My Voice. I give you no excuses. Thanks for tuning in!
Love,
-Nan
I'm going to have to separate this into sections by person because there's lots to cover.
Sean
Sean started preschool in late September through a government program that helps speech-delayed kids catch up before starting school. He's in the same place that his brother was for the last two years so it's very familiar to us. He absolutely loves it there, and his speech has been improving by leaps and bounds! (He was assessed a few months ago and rated in the 5th percentile. This means that 19 out of twenty kids his age have better speaking skills.)
He knows his entire alphabet at three and a half years old. He can actually sound out and read some three- and four-letter words. We've got him doing some preschool video games on his brother's Ipad, which seem to be helping him to learn basic reading skills. It also makes him feel a little less left out where the fun Ipad his brother always gets to use is concerned.
Derek
My husband has been insanely busy at work lately. They lost two experienced people in the space of a week in late August, (one got another job, the other had a baby and is now on maternity leave) and when you combine that with the busiest fall his department has ever seen what you get is lots of overtime and not much time at home with the family. But he's home every night and every weekend so we still get to see much more of Derek than many families do their fathers and husbands.
Noah
Lots and lots and lots has happened since my last post! Noah got approved for government funding for an aide to come to the house to do therapy, as well as 4 hours a month each of speech therapy and occupational therapy. The process was surprisingly painless and not too terribly long. We got more services than we really thought we could ever get.
Noah started Kindergarten in September. I don't have details but I think he kind of freaked out the staff on the first day. We thought that being in two full days a week might be too much for him and it was suggested that Noah attend four half-days instead. (I was against this idea because it would mean that we were deciding to hold Noah back to repeat Kindergarten, and we'd be deciding that just as he started! I wasn't against the idea of him being held back alltogether, but I did think some more time was necessary to make that decision.) He actually settled in very quickly and that whole idea was scrapped by October. Which makes me very happy, of course! Noah has a full-time aide who works just with him, one-on-one, to help him integrate with the class and transition between activities.
Noah's home aide comes over on the three days a week he's not in school. She's here for three hours each of those days. We're seeing some good progress on his self-help and living skills, but his speech is still very poor for his age. (We believe this is part of the reason Sean is so far behind.)
So now Noah has an aide for school, a (different) aide for home, a speech therapist for school, a different speech therapist for home and an occupational therapist who sees Noah both at the school and in our home (which is great, because Lisa is the same therapist who saw Noah in preschool last year, and she's the only familiar face we've had starting out this school year).
Things have gotten kind of hectic.
A really nice recent development in Noah's ongoing therapy is that most of his team have recently gotten training in what is called "R & R" therapy. It stands for "Reference and Regulate". It's a newly developed system created specifically for Autistic individuals. It teaches how to make eye contact and read facial cues and body language. Noah was actually doing this therapy for the last half of last year at preschool, and when he finally started to catch on to it, it was incredible! He learned to make good eye contact and was communicating much better. I'm very excited about him starting this therapy again.
Aaaand....
Noah has started to read. We started him on some learning programs on the computer and Ipad, because he's so fixated on electronics. He can sound out words, and read simple sentences. He can sight read over three dozen words. He'll be turning five a the end of this month.
So lots and lots of progress on the Noah front. One or two years of this kind of intensive therapy should help him immeasurably in the future.
And last but not least...
Me
(I saved the best for last.)
I noticed that I'd been depressed for about three months in August. So I've been going to counselling every two to three weeks since then. It's really nice to have someone who you can talk to who just gives you ideas on how to make things better and doesn't judge.
I threw my back out. Couldn't bend over, etc. I've been going to physiotherapy once a week since then. I haven't been able to go jogging, but the physio has helped. My strength is back and I'm almost entirely pain-free.
Despite this, I have been watching what I eat and I've lost the five pounds I gained back recently. I just hit the "lost a full 20 lbs this year" milestone two days ago! I'm going to try to lose another 10 to 20 lbs by next summer.
I had to get an Iphone to remind me of my appointments because between Noah and I, we've got a lot of appointments all of a sudden and I was starting to flake out and forget them. Those stupid little gadgets are freaking addictive! Books on my phone?! How am I ever supposed to get anything done now?
So that's my life over the last 2+ months. I've been busy and avoiding this blog. I've been thinking about writing a novel and it's been making me nervous and I think that's been making me neglect Finding My Voice. I give you no excuses. Thanks for tuning in!
Love,
-Nan
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
Eva-monster and the Miracle of the Loose Leash
I got a miracle today. An honest-to-God, miracle. Most would say it's not really that big a deal, but for me, it's huge!
I took Eva for a 5 km jog today. It was the first time in a couple of months. We used to go jogging on a more regular basis but with the torrential downpour that whas the entirety of July, my falling off the wagon exercise-wise, and the addition of a bike contraption which allows Eva to run along beside my bicycle without pulling me over (yay!) we haven't been jogging for a while.
Side note: I know I don't exercise my dog enough. But between the bike, jogging, and going to my parents' acreage and running around all day with the dogs, she's still getting quite a bit. And I'm working on getting out with her more often.
I'm gonna go back a bit here. I've had Eva ever since she was about 10 weeks old. She's been a part of my family for over 2 years now. She's been through three different obedience classes and two agility ones. (You wouldn't believe how fast she is when you can keep her focused.) And through all that, she still pulls on-leash. All the time. Now, she doesn't pull nearly as hard as she used to, but she still pulls. Two years, and she still pulls. Argh...
I've used a no-pull harness with her. (She's outgrown it now.) I use a partial choke collar so she can only pull so hard before she has to ease up. Also the sound of the collar clinking helps when I shake the leash before she hits the end, so she can tell better when she's about to hit the pulling point. But she still pulls. I freely admit that if I'd walked her more as a puppy I probably wouldn't have this problem. But I can't go back, so no point dwelling on it.
So today we're going for a jog. She's excited and wants to run, so she's out there at the very end of that leash. And then this weird thing starts happening: every so often, she eases up and drops back just a little, for a few seconds. I am quick to give her a "Good girl, Eva!" of encouragement, because this kind of volunteered behavior should be acknowledged. And she starts doing it more often, and for longer and longer. By the time we get to the cool-down walk at the end, she's walking with a slack leash about half the time. And when she starts pulling, all it takes is for me to say "Easy..." softly for her to slow down and stop pulling.
She still pulls like crazy when she gets excited, but at her more mellow times, she seems to remember that a slack leash is a good thing, and that has me extatic.
So that's my miracle. After two years, multiple classes, and many hours of walking and jogging while on-leash, she gets it. My crazy, high-energy dog can settle down enough to enjoy her walks instead of trying to plow through them Yay!
Love,
-Nan
I took Eva for a 5 km jog today. It was the first time in a couple of months. We used to go jogging on a more regular basis but with the torrential downpour that whas the entirety of July, my falling off the wagon exercise-wise, and the addition of a bike contraption which allows Eva to run along beside my bicycle without pulling me over (yay!) we haven't been jogging for a while.
Side note: I know I don't exercise my dog enough. But between the bike, jogging, and going to my parents' acreage and running around all day with the dogs, she's still getting quite a bit. And I'm working on getting out with her more often.
I'm gonna go back a bit here. I've had Eva ever since she was about 10 weeks old. She's been a part of my family for over 2 years now. She's been through three different obedience classes and two agility ones. (You wouldn't believe how fast she is when you can keep her focused.) And through all that, she still pulls on-leash. All the time. Now, she doesn't pull nearly as hard as she used to, but she still pulls. Two years, and she still pulls. Argh...
I've used a no-pull harness with her. (She's outgrown it now.) I use a partial choke collar so she can only pull so hard before she has to ease up. Also the sound of the collar clinking helps when I shake the leash before she hits the end, so she can tell better when she's about to hit the pulling point. But she still pulls. I freely admit that if I'd walked her more as a puppy I probably wouldn't have this problem. But I can't go back, so no point dwelling on it.
So today we're going for a jog. She's excited and wants to run, so she's out there at the very end of that leash. And then this weird thing starts happening: every so often, she eases up and drops back just a little, for a few seconds. I am quick to give her a "Good girl, Eva!" of encouragement, because this kind of volunteered behavior should be acknowledged. And she starts doing it more often, and for longer and longer. By the time we get to the cool-down walk at the end, she's walking with a slack leash about half the time. And when she starts pulling, all it takes is for me to say "Easy..." softly for her to slow down and stop pulling.
She still pulls like crazy when she gets excited, but at her more mellow times, she seems to remember that a slack leash is a good thing, and that has me extatic.
So that's my miracle. After two years, multiple classes, and many hours of walking and jogging while on-leash, she gets it. My crazy, high-energy dog can settle down enough to enjoy her walks instead of trying to plow through them Yay!
Love,
-Nan
Monday, August 29, 2011
In Stitches
I have recently been initiated into an aspect of parenting I would much rather have forgone, thank you very much.
I'm sure many parents have gone through the process of taking their child to emergency for any number of reasons, and I'm sure many are far, far worse than my son's injury. I am so very sorry you had to go through that.
But this is my story, and the first time your child is injured badly enough to go to the hospital is terrifying, no matter how minor the injury.
Derek's cousin got married a couple of weeks ago. (Beautiful wedding! Congratulations to Miranda and Jeff!) They had an outdoor wedding at a campground, and many of the attendees were camped out there for the weekend. Ourselves included.
So there we were with our spiffy new (and by new, I mean it's older than I am, but we just bought it) motorhome, me and Derek and the kids. And Noah, of course, was having a little trouble coping with all the bustle and change in routine. So I decided to put him and his brother to bed close to his normal bed time. We were camped a few minutes walk from the day-use area where the wedding reception was being held.
So I've got Noah and Sean tucked up in bed in the bunk above the cab in the motorhome. (They sleep in the top bunk because it means it's much less likely that Noah can get out and wander at night.) Derek's off at the day use area having fun with his relatives. (We had agreed on this beforehand; he knows his family much better than I do, and he doesn't get to see them very often. So that night was a party-your-heart-out night for Derek.)
I've just finished tidying up the camp and settling in for a long boring night by the fire with one of my favourite books, when I hear thud, THUD.
Now you parents in the crowd know that there are thuds, and there are THUDS. The former is an indication that one or more of your children is misbehaving and is in for a talking-to. The latter is a clanging alarm bell on the inside of your skull screaming that something is wrong.
So I ran into that camper so fast I had Noah in my arms before he was even crying. Noah had fallen from the over-cab bunk. (Sean wasn't even phased by his brother's trauma.) There was blood, and at first I thought he'd split his lip, but then he tilted his head back. My thoughts: Oh, that's gonna need stitches. His chin was split open and the wound was gaping. That wasn't gonna get fixed with a band-aid.
So I fish out my cell phone and call my husband, telling him, "Noah fell out of the top bunk and he's gonna need stitches."
"I'll be right there."
Those few seconds of trying to keep Noah calm while not panicking, myself, were some of the longest of my life.
He arrives, takes Noah from me. Noah is quiet now, just making this soft keening sound that alerts us that he's upset and doesn't know what's going on. Derek turns to me and says, "He's gonna need stitches."
This trips my Sarcasm Circuits, and he gets The Look. I think: That's what I said, stupid. I'm pretty sure I didn't say it out loud. At least I hope I didn't.
Derek's mom and sister-in-law arrive on the scene. His mom gives us directions to the hospital and says she'll watch Sean. His brother's wife, Jessica tells us to keep him awake because he may have a concussion. He is very drowsy at this point, and the accident happened about five minutes earlier. So we are concerned. I drive, being as Derek's been drinking, and he rides in the back and keeps Noah awake.
So a fifteen minute drive to a town I don't know, to find a hospital I've never been to in the dark. The emergency waiting room is empty. (Thank God!) They check him out, informed that Noah is autistic.
They give him some medicine so he won't remember being stitched. (I don't know if this is standard procedure for stitching children or because he's autistic, but I sure appreciated that.) And after taking the medication, he promptly falls asleep. He wakes up and it takes four people to hold him when they give him the freezing needle. And he promptly falls asleep again. Doesn't even move when they start cleaning the wound. So Derek and I opt to not watch our baby being poked and stitched, and go to the waiting room. A few minutes later he has a perfect row of eight tiny stitches under his chin. They did a beautiful job stitching him.
He shows no symptoms of concussion, and we are allowed to take him back to the camp.
He sleeps like the dead until 9 a.m. the next morning, and is babbling a mile a minute from the moment he wakes up. He doesn't seem bothered at all by the dressing on his chin, and doesn't seem to be in any pain. Looks like he's gonna be fine.
So the stitches are out now. He's going to have a scar there, but the whole ordeal was, in retrospect, not all that bad. And not nearly as bad as it could have been. Thank God!
So that was my traumatic induction into the your-child-has-been-injured-and-needs-to-go-to-hospital club. I hope you never have to join it.
Love,
-Nan
P.S. A big thank-you to all the staff at the Fort Saint John hospital. You were calm, competent and empathetic. You made a bad experience into a much more tolerable one. God bless you!
P.P.S. And also to my sister Candice (a registered nurse) for taking out the stitches while by some miracle keeping Noah calm. You truly have a gift, sister.
I'm sure many parents have gone through the process of taking their child to emergency for any number of reasons, and I'm sure many are far, far worse than my son's injury. I am so very sorry you had to go through that.
But this is my story, and the first time your child is injured badly enough to go to the hospital is terrifying, no matter how minor the injury.
Derek's cousin got married a couple of weeks ago. (Beautiful wedding! Congratulations to Miranda and Jeff!) They had an outdoor wedding at a campground, and many of the attendees were camped out there for the weekend. Ourselves included.
So there we were with our spiffy new (and by new, I mean it's older than I am, but we just bought it) motorhome, me and Derek and the kids. And Noah, of course, was having a little trouble coping with all the bustle and change in routine. So I decided to put him and his brother to bed close to his normal bed time. We were camped a few minutes walk from the day-use area where the wedding reception was being held.
So I've got Noah and Sean tucked up in bed in the bunk above the cab in the motorhome. (They sleep in the top bunk because it means it's much less likely that Noah can get out and wander at night.) Derek's off at the day use area having fun with his relatives. (We had agreed on this beforehand; he knows his family much better than I do, and he doesn't get to see them very often. So that night was a party-your-heart-out night for Derek.)
I've just finished tidying up the camp and settling in for a long boring night by the fire with one of my favourite books, when I hear thud, THUD.
Now you parents in the crowd know that there are thuds, and there are THUDS. The former is an indication that one or more of your children is misbehaving and is in for a talking-to. The latter is a clanging alarm bell on the inside of your skull screaming that something is wrong.
So I ran into that camper so fast I had Noah in my arms before he was even crying. Noah had fallen from the over-cab bunk. (Sean wasn't even phased by his brother's trauma.) There was blood, and at first I thought he'd split his lip, but then he tilted his head back. My thoughts: Oh, that's gonna need stitches. His chin was split open and the wound was gaping. That wasn't gonna get fixed with a band-aid.
So I fish out my cell phone and call my husband, telling him, "Noah fell out of the top bunk and he's gonna need stitches."
"I'll be right there."
Those few seconds of trying to keep Noah calm while not panicking, myself, were some of the longest of my life.
He arrives, takes Noah from me. Noah is quiet now, just making this soft keening sound that alerts us that he's upset and doesn't know what's going on. Derek turns to me and says, "He's gonna need stitches."
This trips my Sarcasm Circuits, and he gets The Look. I think: That's what I said, stupid. I'm pretty sure I didn't say it out loud. At least I hope I didn't.
Derek's mom and sister-in-law arrive on the scene. His mom gives us directions to the hospital and says she'll watch Sean. His brother's wife, Jessica tells us to keep him awake because he may have a concussion. He is very drowsy at this point, and the accident happened about five minutes earlier. So we are concerned. I drive, being as Derek's been drinking, and he rides in the back and keeps Noah awake.
So a fifteen minute drive to a town I don't know, to find a hospital I've never been to in the dark. The emergency waiting room is empty. (Thank God!) They check him out, informed that Noah is autistic.
They give him some medicine so he won't remember being stitched. (I don't know if this is standard procedure for stitching children or because he's autistic, but I sure appreciated that.) And after taking the medication, he promptly falls asleep. He wakes up and it takes four people to hold him when they give him the freezing needle. And he promptly falls asleep again. Doesn't even move when they start cleaning the wound. So Derek and I opt to not watch our baby being poked and stitched, and go to the waiting room. A few minutes later he has a perfect row of eight tiny stitches under his chin. They did a beautiful job stitching him.
He shows no symptoms of concussion, and we are allowed to take him back to the camp.
He sleeps like the dead until 9 a.m. the next morning, and is babbling a mile a minute from the moment he wakes up. He doesn't seem bothered at all by the dressing on his chin, and doesn't seem to be in any pain. Looks like he's gonna be fine.
So the stitches are out now. He's going to have a scar there, but the whole ordeal was, in retrospect, not all that bad. And not nearly as bad as it could have been. Thank God!
So that was my traumatic induction into the your-child-has-been-injured-and-needs-to-go-to-hospital club. I hope you never have to join it.
Love,
-Nan
P.S. A big thank-you to all the staff at the Fort Saint John hospital. You were calm, competent and empathetic. You made a bad experience into a much more tolerable one. God bless you!
P.P.S. And also to my sister Candice (a registered nurse) for taking out the stitches while by some miracle keeping Noah calm. You truly have a gift, sister.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
What I've Been Up To...
Sorry I've been away so long.
A great deal has happened in the two months since I last posted. (I'm not counting the other post from today.)
My dad's side of the family got together to celibrate his parents' 60th wedding anniversary. We camped out together not far from where I live. I got to see family I haven't seen in years. It was a little stressful camping with Noah, what with his habit of wandering off just when he knows no one is paying attention, but it was still a great deal of fun. Congratulations to Grandma and Grandpa on their anniversary! Sixty years is almost unheard-of in this day and age.
My own fourth wedding anniversary. Seems like a lot longer than that, and yet it seems like we just got married last week. I love you Derek! Lets aim to break Great Grandma and Grandpa's record of 75 years married! 71 to go...
I turned 30. dun dun DUN! (Insert creepy death music here.) My birthday was pretty uneventful but I got to spend it with a friend who I rarely get to see, and I'm super-excited about my 30's. I feel like the best is yet to come, and with exercising and losing 20 lbs since December, I feel younger than I have in years.
Noah got approved for specialized services. This is a huge deal. A couple of years of intensive therapy for his speech and social delays could make a huge difference in his ability to be self-sufficient in adulthood. So now I get the help Noah needs, because honestly I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing to help him.
Also, I would like to thank my grandparents. (The same who celebrated their 60th anniversary.) They very generously offered to buy Noah an Ipad, after they found out we were considering getting one for him. The Ipad has been amazing. Noah had been doing so well with his self-help skills at school by June, but his speech had disappeared entirely. Within two weeks of getting the Ipad, with programs to help him communicate, he was speaking again. I've even heard him offer a couple of completely unique sentences that were appropriate to the conversation, and he's correctly responding to yes and no questions. (Usually if he responds to a question, he just repeats it back to the person.) So the Ipad has been a godsend, and I hope we can integrate it into his therapy program.
So that's what I've been up to this summer. We also bought a motorhome and have been camping with family. When the rain finally stopped this summer, we've gotten to spend some time playing in our newly fenced backyard.
The family is all doing well, and that's all I really have to say for now.
Love,
-Nan
A great deal has happened in the two months since I last posted. (I'm not counting the other post from today.)
My dad's side of the family got together to celibrate his parents' 60th wedding anniversary. We camped out together not far from where I live. I got to see family I haven't seen in years. It was a little stressful camping with Noah, what with his habit of wandering off just when he knows no one is paying attention, but it was still a great deal of fun. Congratulations to Grandma and Grandpa on their anniversary! Sixty years is almost unheard-of in this day and age.
My own fourth wedding anniversary. Seems like a lot longer than that, and yet it seems like we just got married last week. I love you Derek! Lets aim to break Great Grandma and Grandpa's record of 75 years married! 71 to go...
I turned 30. dun dun DUN! (Insert creepy death music here.) My birthday was pretty uneventful but I got to spend it with a friend who I rarely get to see, and I'm super-excited about my 30's. I feel like the best is yet to come, and with exercising and losing 20 lbs since December, I feel younger than I have in years.
Noah got approved for specialized services. This is a huge deal. A couple of years of intensive therapy for his speech and social delays could make a huge difference in his ability to be self-sufficient in adulthood. So now I get the help Noah needs, because honestly I have no clue what I'm supposed to be doing to help him.
Also, I would like to thank my grandparents. (The same who celebrated their 60th anniversary.) They very generously offered to buy Noah an Ipad, after they found out we were considering getting one for him. The Ipad has been amazing. Noah had been doing so well with his self-help skills at school by June, but his speech had disappeared entirely. Within two weeks of getting the Ipad, with programs to help him communicate, he was speaking again. I've even heard him offer a couple of completely unique sentences that were appropriate to the conversation, and he's correctly responding to yes and no questions. (Usually if he responds to a question, he just repeats it back to the person.) So the Ipad has been a godsend, and I hope we can integrate it into his therapy program.
So that's what I've been up to this summer. We also bought a motorhome and have been camping with family. When the rain finally stopped this summer, we've gotten to spend some time playing in our newly fenced backyard.
The family is all doing well, and that's all I really have to say for now.
Love,
-Nan
Embracing Emotion
I like to cry.
Yes, there are times when showing emotion embarasses me. When I get so angry or frustrated that it manifests itself in tears, for instance. I hate how my face gets red and scrunched up and my eyes get puffy. (For this reason, I love Julia Roberts. When that woman cries she actually looks like a real human being. Unlike most actresses, who somehow manage to still look perfect while bawling their eyes out.)
But for the most part, I like to cry. I embrace my emotions as they come. One of the rules I live by is this:
Don't ever apologise for how you feel. Apologise for how you act, but never how you feel.
You are entitled to your emotions.
When I get into a melancholia mood, I tend to wallow in it. I put on music that matches my mood, and let the emotions come. I spent all morning yesterday crying because I was watching Grey's Anatomy. (Stupid, addictive soap opera...) Sometimes when the emotions are buried, I have to use something to help them to the surface. I think that bout of crying helped, because here I am writing again for the first time in two months. I've been suffering a serious block. Fell off the wagon exercise and diet wise too.
Time to get back on the horse, so to speak.
So I guess what I've been trying to say is that I'm fighting off my depression by simply stopping fighting it. And letting the emotions come in full force, and letting them surface, dealing with them and moving on. I'm feeling better for embracing my emotions, rather than trying to stuff them into a box. It's nice to not feel numb anymore.
Love,
-Nan
P.S. The form of depression I suffer from is very mild. This helps me to deal with it. I'm not in any way saying that this works for everyone. If you suffer from depression, talk to someone about it. Message me, call a hotline, call a friend. No one can help you if they don't know you suffer. So ask for help. People love you and care for you. The world is a better place with you in it.
Yes, there are times when showing emotion embarasses me. When I get so angry or frustrated that it manifests itself in tears, for instance. I hate how my face gets red and scrunched up and my eyes get puffy. (For this reason, I love Julia Roberts. When that woman cries she actually looks like a real human being. Unlike most actresses, who somehow manage to still look perfect while bawling their eyes out.)
But for the most part, I like to cry. I embrace my emotions as they come. One of the rules I live by is this:
Don't ever apologise for how you feel. Apologise for how you act, but never how you feel.
You are entitled to your emotions.
When I get into a melancholia mood, I tend to wallow in it. I put on music that matches my mood, and let the emotions come. I spent all morning yesterday crying because I was watching Grey's Anatomy. (Stupid, addictive soap opera...) Sometimes when the emotions are buried, I have to use something to help them to the surface. I think that bout of crying helped, because here I am writing again for the first time in two months. I've been suffering a serious block. Fell off the wagon exercise and diet wise too.
Time to get back on the horse, so to speak.
So I guess what I've been trying to say is that I'm fighting off my depression by simply stopping fighting it. And letting the emotions come in full force, and letting them surface, dealing with them and moving on. I'm feeling better for embracing my emotions, rather than trying to stuff them into a box. It's nice to not feel numb anymore.
Love,
-Nan
P.S. The form of depression I suffer from is very mild. This helps me to deal with it. I'm not in any way saying that this works for everyone. If you suffer from depression, talk to someone about it. Message me, call a hotline, call a friend. No one can help you if they don't know you suffer. So ask for help. People love you and care for you. The world is a better place with you in it.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Thank you Miss Tania!
How do you thank someone who has made such a difference in your child's life that there are literally no words to describe it?
I'll give it my best shot.
My family was blessed last school year to have a teacher's aide assigned to Noah who is truly passionate about children, most particularly preschoolers with special needs.
When Noah started preschool almost two years ago he was a completely different person. He would throw himself on the floor and scream every day when I dropped him off, and every day again when I picked him up. I would often have to carry him to the car and hold him down into his carseat so I could get him belted in. I had to put his shoes and coat on for him at school because he couldn't do it himself. (He turned 3 right after he started preschool last year.) He wouldn't even acknowledge if someone said his name. When I looked through our family pictures, I could only find two images of him smiling.
Tania was always patient with Noah, whether he was having a meltdown, disturbing group time in class, or just not sitting still. She was the first person to tell me that Noah was autistic. We knew that something was off with him, and suspected he may be autistic, but she was the first to confirm that whenever we managed to get him diagnosed, we already knew what we were dealing with. She helped me to adjust to that reality, showing me that the key to dealing with my autistic child was in accepting him for who he was, and helping him to be everything he is capable of being.
Miss Tania stayed by Noah's side throughout the school year, helping him to do things that come naturally to most of us, but were so very difficult for him. At the end of the year she gave him a big hug and gave me dozens of pictures she had taken of him throughout the school year. They're all in a preschool photo album, a record of his progress last year.
And this school year we were doubly blessed to have Miss Tania back as Noah's full-time in-school teacher's aide once again. We were sooooo happy when we heard that news! And once again Miss Tania was patient and loving and wonderful through Noah's obsessions with his backpack, his boots, puzzles. Through his bouts of frustration and aggression with her and his fellow students. She helped administer his new look and learn therapy as well as his music therapy program. (And by helped, I mean she did all the work with some advice and supervision of Noah's Occupational Therapist and Speech Therapists.)
And now, at the end of Noah's second year in preschool, his second and likely last year with the amazing and wonderful Miss Tania, these are the things that Noah now does on a regular basis:
-He puts on and takes off his shoes and coat all by himself. (Even his coat zipper!)
-He arrives at and leaves the school calmly, just like any other kid.
-He smiles! All the time!
-He makes eye contact, even seeks it out when he wants something. (This is absolutely huge for an autistic individual. Eye contact is a very basic and integral part of human social interaction, which most autists find difficult or even impossible.)
-He can follow simple directions and will respond when you say his name.
Most of this amazing progress can be attributed directly to Miss Tania, and her care and dedication. She saw the potential in my child, and helped him to reach it. And I will always remember her as the very first person (even before me!) to do so.
Miss Tania, you were like our Mary Poppins, swooping in and transforming our child, our family. And I would honestly love to keep you forever, but I know I can't. There are other children who need you as much as we did two years ago. We still need you, and we will all miss you so very much, but I think there are little boys and girls out there who need you more.
On behalf of myself, Derek, Noah and Sean, we love you and wish you the very best, and we will all miss you very very much. (And I am crying as I write this.)
Thank you.
Love,
-Nan
I'll give it my best shot.
My family was blessed last school year to have a teacher's aide assigned to Noah who is truly passionate about children, most particularly preschoolers with special needs.
When Noah started preschool almost two years ago he was a completely different person. He would throw himself on the floor and scream every day when I dropped him off, and every day again when I picked him up. I would often have to carry him to the car and hold him down into his carseat so I could get him belted in. I had to put his shoes and coat on for him at school because he couldn't do it himself. (He turned 3 right after he started preschool last year.) He wouldn't even acknowledge if someone said his name. When I looked through our family pictures, I could only find two images of him smiling.
Tania was always patient with Noah, whether he was having a meltdown, disturbing group time in class, or just not sitting still. She was the first person to tell me that Noah was autistic. We knew that something was off with him, and suspected he may be autistic, but she was the first to confirm that whenever we managed to get him diagnosed, we already knew what we were dealing with. She helped me to adjust to that reality, showing me that the key to dealing with my autistic child was in accepting him for who he was, and helping him to be everything he is capable of being.
Miss Tania stayed by Noah's side throughout the school year, helping him to do things that come naturally to most of us, but were so very difficult for him. At the end of the year she gave him a big hug and gave me dozens of pictures she had taken of him throughout the school year. They're all in a preschool photo album, a record of his progress last year.
And this school year we were doubly blessed to have Miss Tania back as Noah's full-time in-school teacher's aide once again. We were sooooo happy when we heard that news! And once again Miss Tania was patient and loving and wonderful through Noah's obsessions with his backpack, his boots, puzzles. Through his bouts of frustration and aggression with her and his fellow students. She helped administer his new look and learn therapy as well as his music therapy program. (And by helped, I mean she did all the work with some advice and supervision of Noah's Occupational Therapist and Speech Therapists.)
And now, at the end of Noah's second year in preschool, his second and likely last year with the amazing and wonderful Miss Tania, these are the things that Noah now does on a regular basis:
-He puts on and takes off his shoes and coat all by himself. (Even his coat zipper!)
-He arrives at and leaves the school calmly, just like any other kid.
-He smiles! All the time!
-He makes eye contact, even seeks it out when he wants something. (This is absolutely huge for an autistic individual. Eye contact is a very basic and integral part of human social interaction, which most autists find difficult or even impossible.)
-He can follow simple directions and will respond when you say his name.
Most of this amazing progress can be attributed directly to Miss Tania, and her care and dedication. She saw the potential in my child, and helped him to reach it. And I will always remember her as the very first person (even before me!) to do so.
Miss Tania, you were like our Mary Poppins, swooping in and transforming our child, our family. And I would honestly love to keep you forever, but I know I can't. There are other children who need you as much as we did two years ago. We still need you, and we will all miss you so very much, but I think there are little boys and girls out there who need you more.
On behalf of myself, Derek, Noah and Sean, we love you and wish you the very best, and we will all miss you very very much. (And I am crying as I write this.)
Thank you.
Love,
-Nan
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Reflection: The Boxer
Gonna try something a little different for this post.
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
from the song "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel, written by Paul Simon
I love this song. Always have. I feel like it speaks to me, most particularly the verse I quoted above.
Have you ever felt like that boxer? I have. All the time, really. Or I used to. The song is more nostalgic to me now; a reminder of how I felt for a few years of my life, and how I finally walked away from the things that made me feel that way.
When I was in my early twenties, I partied a lot. I met a lot of men. And I allowed many of those men to get far closer to me than most of them had any right to be, physically and emotionally. This is not about having someone force their affections on me. This is about my allowing them access to myself that they did not deserve. I am not proud of this part of my past, but neither am I ashamed anymore. It happened, and all the shame and recrimination cannot remove these experiences from my own past. They have helped shape who I am now, and I am reconciled with those feelings. But the worst, the absolute worst part of these years, these men, these experiences was the fact that I lied to myself the entire time. Each time I was with someone new, I told myself that this would be different, that this would be the last time. And it never was. Until I finally allowed myself to give when I chose to, not expecting anything in return, and to withhold when I chose to, walking away when the relationship was no longer beneficial to me.
To me, the song is about lying to yourself. Being in a situation that you find intolerable and telling yourself that you're going to just walk away and leave it all behind. But you don't. You stay, and you survive. And it kills something inside you as long as you stay. But in the same way, when you finally find the strength to go, the experience makes you stronger.
I see myself standing in that clearing, with all my scars out there for all the world to see. The scars of my self-deceit and the emotional abuse that I inflicted upon myself. The scars are there long after the pain has faded. And in retrospect, I am proud of those scars. They are concrete proof that I felt, and I hurt and that I lived. And I am still here. And I am stronger for having survived those things.
And that is why I love "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel. Give it a listen sometime.
Love,
-Nan
In the clearing stands a boxer
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that layed him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame
"I am leaving, I am leaving"
But the fighter still remains
from the song "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel, written by Paul Simon
I love this song. Always have. I feel like it speaks to me, most particularly the verse I quoted above.
Have you ever felt like that boxer? I have. All the time, really. Or I used to. The song is more nostalgic to me now; a reminder of how I felt for a few years of my life, and how I finally walked away from the things that made me feel that way.
When I was in my early twenties, I partied a lot. I met a lot of men. And I allowed many of those men to get far closer to me than most of them had any right to be, physically and emotionally. This is not about having someone force their affections on me. This is about my allowing them access to myself that they did not deserve. I am not proud of this part of my past, but neither am I ashamed anymore. It happened, and all the shame and recrimination cannot remove these experiences from my own past. They have helped shape who I am now, and I am reconciled with those feelings. But the worst, the absolute worst part of these years, these men, these experiences was the fact that I lied to myself the entire time. Each time I was with someone new, I told myself that this would be different, that this would be the last time. And it never was. Until I finally allowed myself to give when I chose to, not expecting anything in return, and to withhold when I chose to, walking away when the relationship was no longer beneficial to me.
To me, the song is about lying to yourself. Being in a situation that you find intolerable and telling yourself that you're going to just walk away and leave it all behind. But you don't. You stay, and you survive. And it kills something inside you as long as you stay. But in the same way, when you finally find the strength to go, the experience makes you stronger.
I see myself standing in that clearing, with all my scars out there for all the world to see. The scars of my self-deceit and the emotional abuse that I inflicted upon myself. The scars are there long after the pain has faded. And in retrospect, I am proud of those scars. They are concrete proof that I felt, and I hurt and that I lived. And I am still here. And I am stronger for having survived those things.
And that is why I love "The Boxer" by Simon and Garfunkel. Give it a listen sometime.
Love,
-Nan
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Sean-Monster
Three years ago today at approximately 11:30am, I gave birth to a 10 lb monstrosity. (Monstrosity referring to the size of the child, not the child himself.)
I named him Sean. Actually I had been calling the unborn baby "him" and "Sean" since about five months along, when I woke up at 3 am, woke Derek up and asked, "What about Sean for a boy?". Derek had grunted something akin to assent and Sean has been "Sean" ever since. I didn't have a dream or anything, I just woke up with the idea, his name should be Sean. And ran with it.
I had been concerned that I wouldn't bond with the baby right away. I was so stressed out and overwhelmed when Noah was born that I didn't really bond with him until about a month after he was born. I needn't have worried. It was love at first sight.
*Note: This does not mean that I love one of my children any more than the other. It is perfectly normal to not bond with a new baby immediately, and I fully understood such at the time with Noah. I just hoped it wouldn't happen to me twice.
Sean has always been very stubborn and very aware of how cute he is. He's an insufferable flirt. He loves to play outside, climb on furniture, and say 'Hi' to everyone he passes. He is the bane of his brother's existence, as he takes his role of 'little brother' very seriously.
He is my little monster-child and I love him very much.
Happy Birthday, Sean-Monster!
Love,
-Mommy
I named him Sean. Actually I had been calling the unborn baby "him" and "Sean" since about five months along, when I woke up at 3 am, woke Derek up and asked, "What about Sean for a boy?". Derek had grunted something akin to assent and Sean has been "Sean" ever since. I didn't have a dream or anything, I just woke up with the idea, his name should be Sean. And ran with it.
I had been concerned that I wouldn't bond with the baby right away. I was so stressed out and overwhelmed when Noah was born that I didn't really bond with him until about a month after he was born. I needn't have worried. It was love at first sight.
*Note: This does not mean that I love one of my children any more than the other. It is perfectly normal to not bond with a new baby immediately, and I fully understood such at the time with Noah. I just hoped it wouldn't happen to me twice.
Sean has always been very stubborn and very aware of how cute he is. He's an insufferable flirt. He loves to play outside, climb on furniture, and say 'Hi' to everyone he passes. He is the bane of his brother's existence, as he takes his role of 'little brother' very seriously.
He is my little monster-child and I love him very much.
Happy Birthday, Sean-Monster!
Love,
-Mommy
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