Tag: acceptance

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Panic

I love my 8 year old son with all my heart. I would do ANYTHING for him! Our relationship is suffering so much for this grand social experiment- I can’t reach him. Can we take a year off? Can’t I quit? Remote learning is destroying his self esteem, our relationship, and really challenging my patience.

We have chosen to keep him home year round this year due to being a high risk family. Safety over sanity, I guess. We worry that the transition from one day in school, one day home, repeated all week will wreck any chance he has of learning. So we decided to keep him home. His developmental pediatrician, and the SPED department at the school understood, and are all doing their best to support us.

I have never had this much anxiety before in my life. And I was diagnosed with GAD as a kid. I’m 42 and worried about this level of stress, and what it’s doing to my body, and my son. I know he picks up on it, I know it triggers his anxiety in response. I do not know how to deescalate us both. I’ve spent years studying CBT and DBT. No coping skills are helping. Therapy helps some. Medications don’t fix situations.

So, we flail. Trying to meet expectations that are so out of reach… setting his little heart up for failure – if he saw the amount of work assigned daily. I don’t show him. I’ve made some massive adjustments in ways of learning. I don’t know if the school will be okay with them, and I don’t give a… He feels successful if I type his words for him. We do all math work on a whiteboard together. Science is his favorite.

We just got an IEP. But how will they deliver services remotely? Cases are increasing in our town, and the school is open for hybrid. Do we send him for services? Do we send him back to hybrid? Will he learn better there? It would be much less stress, and tension between us. But he’s as terrified of COVID as most of us masked people. Would he see it as freedom, or abandonment? How behind is he? How worse would his anxiety and depression be? Does he know I love him? Does he know my anxiety is from the expectations the school places upon us, and not from being with him? How would he do with the transitions? Who do I ask for help?

I’m lucky- I am disabled, so I’m able to be home and focused on his schooling and provide the constant 1:1 he needs. I count those blessings every day. I’m terrified that we are going to fall behind on work- and the school will report us to social services. (It happened to his dad). It’s a real fear – not that we’ve ever been in trouble, but one that is never far from my mind. And I know there are millions more families in much worse situations than us. And my heart goes out to each and every one of you.

Lest anyone think I’m holding the school, staff or his amazing teacher responsible for this – I’m not. Not at all. We are in one of the best schools in the state, and it’s public. They are phenomenal to work with. The IEP process: we worked together for the common educational goal of a free appropriate public education, for my son. There was no need for a lawyer or advocate. All of these women know our son closely, and have been helping him for years. To finally have earned him the IEP? Feels like we won the lottery. I treasure each and every soul at his school. And I know this is most likely more difficult for everyone who works there. I’m not losing site of this.

Each day is an absolute horror show. I’ve yet to figure out a way to alert my son that it’s time to start working, that doesn’t end in him throwing or breaking something. (See, transitions = low frustration tolerance with him). I’ve tried color coded schedules with alarms. I’ve tried rewards, positive reinforcement. I’ve talked assignments up, explaining “it’s a short day – we don’t have much work, you’ll breeze right through it!” I’ve taken whatever trinket gets tossed, and put it away until work is completed. I’ve tried restricting privileges until work is completed. I’ve tried many, many movement breaks. I’ve tried breaking the assignments up into more manageable chunks of time.

What seems to work best? Reviewing the day in front of us, so he knows what to expect. Giving him choices of which subject to start with. Breaking it up throughout the day, with plenty of adventures in between assignments. Keeping with the same routine and schedule. Using a whiteboard for math, typing for writing, and hopefully soon, speech to text software to really give him some independence. Reminding him that I’m his helper and advocate- and that I have nothing to do with the assigned work, other than my willingness to be his 1:1 aide.

The strain this is putting on my marriage can’t be overlooked. My husband works full time, but is always offering whatever support he can give, outside of work hours. To me, that’s not helpful. We have differing strategies for interacting with our son, when it comes to schooling, and that seems to be coming to the forefront. So, like most things I said: “Thanks, but no thanks. We will stick with our methods.”

It really stinks being a control freak, like me. However, we do have our routines ironed out – some such as, giving him gum when he has to sit and attend to a lesson. That was the occupational therapist’s suggestion at the school. She said the physical sensory input of the gum and jaw movement would help him attend, and sit. So gum it is. It does help.

God what I wouldn’t give to be going on a play date – my biggest concern which snack to pack to avoid an allergic reaction from anyone we are meeting. Or to be thinking about what to get for this weeks birthday child’s present. But instead, this is my reality.

My husband is getting laid off the day before Thanksgiving. I’m nervous because I know I’m going to have to swallow my pride in a few weeks, and go to the local food bank. Again, I’m so thankful for their service. I’m fearful though. This year there may not be enough food. Have you seen the lines in Texas?

I volunteered for a year at ours – and it was the most emotional few hours of my week. Many of the regular clients – I was their only social contact, all week. The love and kindness they expressed melted me. I don’t think we hear enough of the stories from the inside. We see the pictures and hear the statistics, but what about the people? What are their stories? Where are they now? I’m rambling.

I’m scared the impact this pandemic is having on EVERYTHING. Sorry to unleash my anxiety on you all. If you have followed me thus far, I thank you. Please know I send all my prayers and thoughts of comfort and health to all of you. I’m going to go count my blessings to keep myself in check.

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I Love You, Mama

Yesterday I woke not feeling well, and feared the day in front of me. I’m responsible for my son during the day, while his father works. This was one of those sick stomach days, and with it came exhaustion. Try as I did, I couldn’t seem to stay awake.

I could tell my husband felt caught between wanting to stay home to help, and needing to go to work for the paycheck. I told him to go, knowing if I wasn’t up to caring for our son, we could go to my parents for the day, as they were home.

What I didn’t realize was how hard the exhaustion would hit; I slept from 8-1:30. Slept right through his Zoom class, and on into the afternoon.

The most amazing thing occurred yesterday. My son took care of me, for the first time.

He called me up to his room, around 9. I made my way up, and found he had made me a bed to lie on, and snuggle up with him. We stayed there watching videos of Godzilla together, as I faded in and out.

He woke me at one point, and put on a favorite reggae song for me, telling me, “I’ll be right back, mama. Don’t move, enjoy the music.”

Next thing I knew, he was back, handing me an envelope. The sweetest boy in the world had written me out a get well card. My heart melted.

Later, around lunch time, he poured me some juice, and served it to me. He was looking out for me, just like I do for him when he’s unwell.

The mom guilt of him being stuck inside on a gorgeous day really got to me, and I finally was able to get up to get us out. We were heading to my parents, and I was driving. I apologized to him for my sleepiness, and having wasted so much of the day indoors.

“Don’t worry mama. I get it. I know when I get sick, all I want to do is sleep. You couldn’t help it.” How did I get so lucky with this sweetheart?

At my parents, my seven year old son was put to work, in the garden and yard. He was operating hand tools, even using pruners. He’s serious about getting the job done correctly, as I witnessed yesterday. Sure, he’s still a seven year old boy- and occasionally still has to be reminded that we don’t run with tools in our hands. But he’s also pruning trees and shrubs, knocking down Japanese Knotweed, ID’ing weeds and plants, and helping plant the vegetables.

I’m so blessed to be the mama of this intelligent, empathetic and loving little boy. 💕

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Sunday Thoughts

Yesterday was a difficult day for me, mentally. I wanted to spend the day working on the garden; digging and turning the beds, and dividing and moving plants. I’m putting a vegetable garden in, and moving my perennials elsewhere. What I thought would be a relatively simple job is turning out to be way more than I’m physically capable of, and that’s really frustrating to me.

Knowing my failed spinal fusion and chronic pain were not up to a day full of gardening, I suggested we go on a nature hike, as we do each weekend. Both guys were into it, and it was the perfect sweatshirt weather for one.

I filled the water bottles, grabbed our masks and packed up some snacks. We were off. We took a different way into the woods than normal, and I thought we were close to turning around… then the boy asked if we could go on a salamander hunt. When asked if I was up for it, I gave a halfhearted “sure”, thinking we were only going to venture a little off track.

Our hike was 13,568 steps or 5.86 miles, according to my Fitbit. My body feels it. It’s a good hurt, an ache of accomplishment. I have to be careful though, as I’m known to compulsively exercise, pushing myself much further than I should. These hikes can lay me out for a few days- so I try to keep moving throughout the week. My family thinks I’m crazy, as does my doctor. But all seem to understand this works for me. I have to keep moving or I seize up.

See, physically I shouldn’t be hiking like this. Mentally though, I need it. If I don’t get out and exercise daily, I can’t concentrate or follow through with tasks. It’s this nervous energy that has to be burned off. I think it’s part of why I understand my son so well. He is the same way. If we hike, he’s not hyperactive. If we don’t, he is all over the place.

Another bonus to getting out in nature for me is that I’m able to think things through. I haven’t had a telehealth appointment with my therapist in a handful of weeks, as my insurance has been switched, and he doesn’t accept my new plan. In place of that missing link, I’ve had to be much more self reliant; thinking things through for myself, as well as being more open with my husband.

See, in the past, I’d keep my mental illness musings to therapy alone, and my marriage separate. My husband is incredibly devoted, and willing to do just about anything to help me, but I oftentimes am too embarrassed to let him in. These past few weeks have changed that, and it’s freeing to finally open up to him.

I realized yesterday on our walk that I was grumpy because I knew I couldn’t do that which I wanted – to garden. However, instead of having a misplaced meltdown, I thought it through, on my own. Once I’d realized that, and accepted it, I found it much easier to enjoy our hike. I even found lady slipper orchids on our walk! They are so rare around here- and super exciting to find!

Lady slipper orchids

When we returned home, I had the chance to sink my hands in the dirt. I dug some plants, divided a Hosta, and turned a portion of the bed. It’s not even a third of the way complete, but I decided to work on it in small stages. A little bit each day, that way I’m not hurting myself too much.

Pre-back injury and surgery, I’d spend a day down in the garden: weeding, digging and amending the soil. Even with a healthy back, I’d be down a day or two with all the physical work. I could never do that now.

My new plan is to make this a mother – son garden. He’s always been such a big help in years past, I know this year will be even better. I can’t wait to see him eat his first Sungold tomato fresh from the vine. There’s something magical about witnessing it 💕

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Free Appropriate Public Education (FAPE)

So I’ve mentioned how my son was diagnosed with severe ADHD, and a communication disorder in May of 2017 at Boston Children’s Hospital.

We have been working with a developmental pediatrician there since, who believes our son should be on an IEP. We do too, and tried for one, back in kindergarten. The school refused to accept the communication disorder, and chose to give us a 504 plan, stating he does not meet the requirements for an IEP.

After the past two months of remote learning, and both my husband and I trying everything within our power to get our son to work on his schoolwork, with absolutely no success; it’s time to put in another request for an IEP. And now, we are ready to hire an advocate.

The administrator in charge of the 504 plans is the vice principal at the school. She tends to make offhand remarks, without much forethought.

Take, for example, “I was in the classroom yesterday trying to get a good read on S and where he is in relation to his classmates. He really does have the most severe case of ADHD I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been doing this for over twenty years!”

Both my husband and I were stunned, and speechless. The two classroom teachers jumped in and tried to diffuse the comment; but the damage was done, in my mind. How could she make a statement like that, and he not qualify for an IEP?

ADHD qualifies students for an IEP under the health qualification.

His 504 plan is useless to us with remote learning. The accommodations run from extra time for classroom assignments, different styles of teaching (visual, auditory and written), heavy work (when he gets too distracted, send him on an important errand), and on the list goes.

To be honest, most of the accommodations don’t help- as his amazing co-taught classroom teachers explained to us in the last 504 meeting in February. They did work for kindergarten and first grade, but he needs to be present for all the lessons this year. So sending him to the office for busy work when he gets too distracted and hyperactive doesn’t work. He ends up losing out.

What’s become most apparent throughout this entire remote learning experience is that he needs 1:1 intervention, to keep him on task, at all times. This is something the developmental pediatrician has been pushing for since day one. It’s also the most difficult and prohibitive accommodation to have written into an IEP or 504. Schools don’t, and in many cases can’t, afford to provide 1:1 assistance- it’s cost prohibitive to hire on a staff member for just one child.

We’ve tried all their suggestions. We’ve had at least two 504 meetings per year, and been treated as if that’s too much to ask. The results have been less than stellar. His kindergarten and first grade teachers were at their wits end. This year was the first year of medication for him; and with it he was placed in a co-taught classroom with the two best second grade teachers.

His teachers have been going above and beyond for him, and us. The weekly emails and Zoom conferences throughout the school closure will be our documentation for the new request for an IEP. They recommended last week that I can do the writing of his assignments for him, IF he can dictate the words to me. After a full week of trying this, we were able to complete 2/4 days of work.

So now I have to organize, research and plan. I have to email the director of the special education department to request an another evaluation for an IEP. Who knows when it will happen, or how. It has to be done though.

We are losing him. I say, “Okay, time to start some schoolwork in five minutes,” as I set a timer on my phone. At the mere mention of schoolwork, he self destructs. Things get thrown, he breaks his favorite toys, tells me and my husband how much he hates us…. and that’s just the beginning. We can’t reason with him when he is like this. We can’t reach him.

I wish I knew how to reach him. Last night, once things had cooled off some, my husband asked him why does he react like that? And that little seven year old boy was able to articulate: “When I get angry like that, I lose control of my body and just can’t stop. I need help mama and papa,” as the hysterical tears started up again.

I did the only thing I knew how. I held him tight, and let him know I loved him.

I’m hoping to find some answers in this book. Has anyone read it? I’d love any and all suggestions!

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What ADHD is for us…

I want to tell you about the strengths based view of the disorder which we use in our house. I came across this view which Edward Hallowell MD and Peter Jensen MD recommend in their book “Superparenting for ADD”. Instead of looking at what our son can’t do successfully, we are choosing to see what he can succeed at, and all the strengths which travel with his deficits.

Edward Hallowell breaks the news of ADHD to kids in his office by explaining they have a Ferrari race car brain, with bicycle brakes; and that is a most accurate description, for my son. Russell Barkley, one of the great researchers in the field of ADD, conceptualizes ADD as a state of relative disinhibition. The inhibitory circuits in the brain fail to work properly. This leads to the 3 core symptoms of ADD, what Barkley calls the holy trinity of ADD: distractibility, impulsivity and restlessness or hyperactivity.

And here’s where Hallowell gets interesting. He says: “I don’t want you to think of it as a disorder, but rather as a potential gift that can be hard to unwrap.”

See, my son is as Hallowell describes many with ADD. He is a highly imaginative child, with a real knack for thinking outside the box. He is fun loving with a crazy sense of humor, just like his grandfather. He is most intuitive, and often comes up with ideas and solutions to problems, while his father and I are still trying to work out what the actual problem is. He has a special quality which draws people in to him, he’s been described often as an old soul.

I worry more than anything that the constant criticism is going to destroy all this specialness inside him. I’m eternally grateful he chooses not to give up in the face of it – and instead perseveres. He’s tenacious.

Energy, curiosity and creativity are nourished and noticed here in our home. He has a tendency to forgive, being unable to hold a grudge for long. He is big hearted and generous. He is highly sensitive, and also has sudden, unexpected insights. He is love, personified.

And In Hallowell’s book, he speaks with a mom. She’s most concerned that all the good will get lost under all the negative criticisms he has had to deal with. “Not just from school, but me, too.”

Hallowell states: “As is almost always the case with parents of kids who have ADD, Sam’s mom is a wonderful mom. It is only natural that she gets frustrated with him now and then and becomes critical…’It can be unbelievably difficult being the parent of a child with ADD, especially before you have it diagnosed. That’s why today is a good news day. You are all finding out what’s been going on and what to do about it. What to do about it won’t be easy, but life should get considerably better for you all from now on.”

I put these words out there to remind myself of my beautiful child, and what a wonderful soul he has. We have our rough moments, but we make it work. I’m so blessed he chose us. 💕

ADHD stands for attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, a complex brain disorder that impacts approximately 11% of children and almost 5% of adults in the U.S ADHD is a developmental impairment of the brain’s executive functions. People with ADHD have trouble with impulse-control, focusing, and organization.

Neuroscience, brain imaging, and clinical research tell us a few important things: ADHD is not a behavior disorder. ADHD is not a mental illness. ADHD is not a specific learning disability.

ADHD is, instead, a developmental impairment of the brain’s self-management system. Common ADHD symptoms include:

  • inattention
  • lack of focus
  • poor time management
  • weak impulse control
  • exaggerated emotions
  • hyper-focus
  • hyperactivity
  • and executive dysfunction

From ://www.google.com/amp/s/www.additudemag.com/what-is-adhd-symptoms-causes-treatments/amp/

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Teacher Parade

Yesterday, my son’s elementary school held a teachers parade throughout the town. We were able to catch it in two spots.

It brought tears for me. Tears for my son and this new world we’re living in. Tears because here was his community; almost every car had someone calling to him by name, waving, and telling him how much they missed him so. Tears because they have to be apart; now, when he most needs them in his life. Tears because I can’t give this to him – and that’s what I want most. I want normal back for him.

I knew we were blessed to be a part of this community- yesterday just confirmed that even more so.

As we pulled away, my seven year old son said “That was special! That made all of this worth it. I miss them so much and can’t wait to be back!” To hear, and see the smile in both his voice and face, lightened the weight on my heart some.

I knew, as we left, that this was a turning point for us. I’m hoping this helps strengthen his resolve for the 19 remaining days of school. I know it strengthened mine to continue with remote learning.

His teachers aren’t just there for the paycheck. These women (and yes, they are all women) are there to teach, but also love our children like they’re their own. The signs, the comments, the organizing…. all of it, for a community that’s been torn apart by the virus.

The teachers put the children first yesterday. We need to keep doing that, today. This world is frightening for adults right now – we must band together and make it less so for the children. Thank you to my sons school for reminding me of that 💕

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Bipolar Disorder

I’ve mentioned bipolar disorder, but haven’t written about it. I’m ashamed, still, 20 years into my diagnosis, to admit I have bipolar disorder. Half the time, I’m denying it’s an issue, and convincing myself the medications aren’t working.

But they do. You see, each time I think I don’t need them, and stop them on my own, I almost always end up back in, in or out patient treatment, while being stabilized on my meds.

It’s an insidious disease. It tells me I don’t have a disorder. Just think about that for a moment.

I have an incredible support system surrounding me, thankfully. My husband has been on this merry go round with me for over two decades. My parents and sister live in the next town; as do my godmother aunt and her husband. All of them have stepped in and helped raise my child, when I needed help myself. Our village is huge and filled with love.

But bipolar. I hate and love this part of me. I love the highs: the creativeness, the expansiveness, the positivity, the energy, smiling. Inevitably, the high is followed by a crashing low: numbness, emotionally stunted, ambivalence, and negativity. And then there’s the mixed states, the most dangerous place for me to be: racing thoughts, nonstop anxiety, irritation, anger and insomnia. The meds are supposed to curb these wild shifts, but they don’t. They temper them. I still cycle, just not as high and low as I would without the meds.

And after twenty years of this, you’d think I’d understand that meds don’t cure everything. I wish they worked; and stopped these lows and mixed states. They hurt us.

See there’s really no place in my life for my own stuff right now. And of course, my depression is on the rise, because of this worldwide situation we are all in. I can’t be selfish like normal though. I mean, I can’t be swept up in the dark tide; I have to be strong for my son, who needs me more now than ever.

So this is my promise: I’m stronger than depression. I can do this. I know you can too. I’m going to wake up each day with fresh eyes, and just try to put the most positive foot forward I can. I know today won’t be perfect, I know I’m going to mess up. But for today, I’m not going to focus on what’s wrong, I’ll focus on what’s right.

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School Refusal

When I became a mother, I was warned that my heart now would live outside my body; in my child.

It’s true, my heart fills with his successes, and breaks with each failure (and right now, he’s seeing so much failure in his life with schooling – and my hands are tied). I’ve followed the protocols- reaching out to his teachers often, updating them weekly on his refusal to remote learn. We have tried numerous creative solutions, with no positive results.

I DON’T BLAME HIM. Not one bit. This is more than should be expected of any second grader; especially one with learning disabilities.

Yesterday we made it to the Zoom meeting, and that’s it. I couldn’t bring myself to even attempt to try to get him to work on his assignments. Not after hearing him tell me all day Monday “I’m so stupid,” on repeat.

See, this whole remote learning has shredded his self esteem. He witnesses his classmates attending to Zoom, in a way he can’t. He is so bright – his teachers and developmental pediatrician both remind us of this whenever we meet; and it’s blatant when conversing with him. His vocabulary is stronger than most adults I know, and it amazes me, daily. Yesterday, he was able to get us back on track while on a hike – without a map or compass. His sense of direction was in tune, better than my GPS. He creatively solves problems for me, all the time.

I am so proud of my little boy. But it’s breaking my heart to see what these insurmountable demands from the school are doing to him, mentally. I feel backed into a corner. My mama bear instincts want to call it all off – but I’m sure that would invite repercussions into our home.

He is a wiggly one, always on the go. At five he articulated to me: “Mama, sometimes my brain says stop but my body keeps going. What do I do?”

We’ve learned to work around these issues. We hike, deep into the woods, many times per week. Nature grounds our home – and burning off energy makes schoolwork easier. We don’t follow any specific diets, but do try to eat more of a whole food approach. We don’t have a TV, and that definitely helps. I know a strict schedule and routine is helpful, but we generally aim to do things around the same time each day.

I try, in my own way, to use life as teaching moments. Like baking a cake, or keeping a nature journal, or tracking our vegetable garden, daily, in our journal. He’s learning so much, elsewhere, and reads on his own now. Doesn’t this count?

I don’t know what I’m trying to say here. I guess it’s just to admit defeat, letting the world know I’m at the epicenter of parental failure. I want nothing more than to protect this little soul – hold him close and not let any of this hurt who he is as a person; but know that goes against what is expected of me, as a pandemic parent, and now part time teacher.

Yesterday, an article from http://www.understood.org showed up in my email. It was perfectly timed.

School Refusal: What It Means When Kids Won’t Do Schoolwork

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