Friday, August 12, 2016

Don't Assume, You Ass

    Soooo, we're getting ready to head south for vacation soon. Yeah, I know, summer is almost over, but here's a secret.... AFTER labor day, cottages and hotel rooms are HALF price! It's still hot as balls down south, so it's not like it's too late in the season.

    The other perk? Less families on vacation means less families at the hotel pool, and less families on the beach. (This is great when you're a special needs family.) The other perk.... Almost all of the beach shops are having clearance sales on their summer stock, so souvenirs are usually half off. I digress, let's get into this!

    I'm a big girl. It's no secret, there's no hiding it. 


    I'm not proud of it, nor am I ashamed of it. It is what it is. What I AM ashamed of is a couple of things I will cover today. Reminder, these are MY opinions and feelings, so I may not be in the majority here, but I don't care. I've always rather liked being a minority. (Cue Green Day Minority. My brain runs on music people!)



    When you ASSUME, you make an A$$ out of U and Me. (Thank you for this witty repartee Mr. Salsman! You rocked freshman Science!)  Sorry, I'm easily sidetracked.

    I digress.  Assuming anything about anyone is super shameful in my eyes! When most people see fat people like me, they ASSUME that I'm lazy. Oh honey, I wish I had time to be lazy. I don't feel the need to justify my life or how busy it is. (I lied, I kick ass, and I'm proud of how hard I work! I'm a housewife, whom home schools an autistic child, works part time as a review blogger, runs an autism support page, and attempts to run a local support group.)

    So yeah, no real time to be lazy. But why then are you fat? Well, most people that assume that probably don't care to know, but I'm sick. I'm chronically sick, and it's no joke, it's no excuse, it just is.

    When I was prego with Liam I got FAT. I'm talking HUGE! I was on bed rest, so everything I ate went to my hips, thighs and ass. I lost all that baby weight. I looked great, and felt great. Liam was such a busy baby, I never had time to sit and relax. Then around the time he turned two, I started having problems.

    Constant pain. Chronic sicknesses. It seemed I was at the doctors and hospitals more than I was home. The doctors couldn't find the cause for any of it. After SIX long years, and every test you can imagine, I was told I had Fibromyalgia, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Hashimotos Disease, Non Alcoholic Liver Disease (fatty liver,) Endometriosis, Polycystic Ovaries, and MORE. YES MORE!

    Let's jump ahead to present day. I quit smoking three years ago, and since then, have been healthier lung wise. (I still get chronic sinus infections monthly because my immune systems attacks my own body.) I got a hysterectomy, so that pain is gone. However, there isn't a day that goes by that on a pain scale of 1-10, I'm not sitting at a 4 or 5.

    In order to clean my house I have to take narcotics for the pain. The next day, I can't move. I can't break my chores up during the school year, because I'm Liam's teacher, so that's out. This is my life. This is my reality. This is why I'm fat.

    The real reason for this post is coming, I promise!


    The other thing that I find shameful.... when people say, "dress for the body you HAVE, NOT the body you WANT!" A few things about this. When it's 80 plus degrees in the summer, I'm not going to wear a heavy tee shirt, and capri pants to cover my fat rolls. I'm NOT going to be uncomfortable to make YOU comfortable. I'm just not, and neither should anyone else.


     I'm not going to smash myself in a bikini either, (but if a large person wants to do so, so what!) As long as their boobs and coo coo are covered, then who are you to care? 


    As a mother, I personally take offense when I see "skinny" or "fat" women wearing something that let's us all see their girl parts. (I don't want my son seeing that!) Most men aren't bothered by it if they think you're skinny, but I promise, most mothers are. Going to the beach shouldn't be like watching soft core porn. And that has nothing to do with size.

    Wear what YOU want. Wear what make YOU comfortable. Just please, cover your family jewels because our kids don't need to see that!

    Lastly, why do we need the labels fat and skinny?


    It doesn't tell us they type of person someone is. Like, "oh there's fat Courtney! Do you know her?" That doesn't tell you anything about me that you can't see with your own damn eyes! Look past my fat, and find a word that REALLY describes me! (Geek, that's what my hubby calls me. I'm good with geeky Courtney!)

    I think I covered what I wanted to say. Who knows, I'll probably edit the hell out of this before I publish it anyway.

    End note: Please stop assuming, people. While you're at it, stop judging too. You may find that you're happier, because if you're not judging, you won't care about other people that are.

<3 <3 <3 <3

   




Tuesday, June 28, 2016

STOP Shaming Autism Parents!

    There's a trend on social media attacking parents like myself, whom write about our lives with Autism. I could point out page names and blogs, but why give these people more attention than they deserve? Instead, I'm going to share my feelings about it.

    First of all, people need to stop accusing us of being disrespectful. They claim that we have our blogs and pages to get attention for being an autism parent, and in doing so, are disrespecting our children. How bogus is that?? (Trust me, I loathe attention. I'm happy hiding out from small talk and people.) I myself, as with many other autism parents I know, started our pages and blogs to tell OUR story. (We aren't here to tell your story. That's your prerogative.) We are reaching out and sharing slices of our lives, to connect with other parents that are walking a similar path. To help ourselves, and to help others.

    Secondly, they claim we are exploiting our children. (Another reason they accuse us of being disrespectful.) Okay, now maybe some people do that, but lumping all of us page owners and writers into that category is, well frankly, it's bullshit! My son is old enough now, that I ask his permission to share certain things. When I started, he wasn't able to make that decision. So his father and I would talk about what it was I wanted to share, and together, decide how to do it respectfully. I have never shared inappropriate images of my son. (Who would with all the pervs out there?) When talking about his severe cycles, I divulge basic information, but I never go in depth with things my son says to me in confidence. We don't tell people where we live. I also don't accept strangers on my personal Facebook.

    Thirdly, they claim that we share too much. That by telling people our story, we're in fact hurting our children. If my son has a rough day, he has a rough day. We are teaching him to own it. Shit happens, to ALL of us! If I choose to joke about it on social media, and let others know they aren't alone in this struggle, how is that hurting my child? He isn't the brunt of my joke. I am sharing to vent. Sharing to make light of a crappy day. That's how we roll in our real lives too.

    We can't sit here, behind our keyboards and act like life is all sunshine and rainbows. That's bullshit, and we all know it. As writers, we are sharing our story to reach out to all of you. These "sanctimommies" need to step off, and worry more about how they are raising their children, instead of how we are doing it. Hell, most of the autism pages I follow are much like mine. They share the good, the bad, sensory fun, inspirational posts, jokes, and more. They are real. Isn't that what we want? Why would we want to read fake crap? Not one of us is a "perfect" parent! I could keep going on about how they're judging us, but I have a life, and so I will stop here.

    One last thought.... We're all muddling through this gig together. Instead of belittling one another, let's raise each other up! Besides, falling off a high horse would be pretty painful, and I for one, wouldn't want to be the wanker that falls off!


Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Don't Stress the Mess - A Confession from a Not So Special, Special Needs Mom

    Here goes, a confession from a not so special, special needs mom.

    My house is quite often a horrific wreck! Not only is it a wreck, it's most likely dusty, and in desperate need of an over haul.

    You know what? It's okay. That quote, "Pardon the mess, but the children are busy making memories," well, we're doing that, but the real truth is, we're busy LIVING!

    All parents know (special needs or otherwise,) that keeping a house clean when you have kids is like eating Oreos and trying to brush your teeth. It doesn't happen. If it does happen, our children wreck it before we're even finished.

    Laundry? Don't get me started there. You're NEVER caught up on laundry. EVER. Why? Because for every person in your house, you have to count what they're wearing. Your hampers may be empty, but in a family of three (like mine,) that's three dirty outfits. Bath time, that's 3 dirty towels. Bedding? That's three beds worth of bedding. You get the idea.

    How about your floors? I only have carpet in three rooms, but in the summer time, my living room generally has more grass on it than the yard. Why? Because my son and the neighbor kids are in and out like our front door revolves. Summer is mowing season, and therefore all the grass is being tracked into my house.

    Chachkies, or as my hubby calls them, dust collectors. I used to LOVE chachkies! Any more, I loathe them. All they do is remind me that I'm too busy or too damn tired to dust them. They really don't look good any more because I can't see them through all the dust. And ceilings! Who the hell knew that you have to dust your ceilings all the time? Seriously? Who has time for that? Not me, which is why you'll see dust bunnies up there. (Please don't look up if you come to visit us.)

    We recently got a puppy. She's being trained to be a support dog for my son. There are dog toys from one end of my living room to the other. I don't dare pick them up, because she's so easily side tracked that she'll chew the carpet if a toy isn't in front of her face. If you come to my house any time soon, keep your shoes on too. You won't want to step in a wet spot from sopped up pee and carpet cleaner.

    The toilet. As a boy mom, I loathe cleaning the damn toilets. I seriously think he makes it his mission to pee everywhere but IN the toilet. Just my house? I don't think so.

    Back to laundry. My boy is autistic and has sensory issues. He changes his clothes many times a day. There could be a hamper right next to him, but the dirty clothes are either in a pile next to it, or trailing the room where he took them off. (We're working on this.)



    You get the idea, my house is a mess. It used to REALLY bother me. Especially when we had support staff for my son, in and out of here every day. Now? Well now I've learned that it only causes me undue stress to worry about it. Now I ask people to call before they come over. That way I can get that quick 20 minute straighten up in. If you just show up at my door, I can promise you, my house will be a wreck. There may not even be a place for you to sit, because my son's toy obsessions are usually all over the furniture.

    I "DEEP" clean once a week. That's Sunday. If you want to see my house looking great, I suggest you come before I finish on Sunday. Otherwise, I can't promise you'll see it clean. I really don't care. 30 years from now I'm not going to remember how messy my house was. I'm going to remember raising my son. That's what really matters any way.

 

 

Saturday, May 14, 2016

We Use CBD Oil to Help Our Autistic Bipolar Son

    Medical Marijuana is widely talked about now a days. There seems to be a wide divide of people whom accept the idea, and those who think it's just a gateway to legalizing all drugs.

    While I don't necessarily have an issue with the latter group of people, I want to reach out to them, and I hope this clears some things up for them. I also want to reach out to families like ours. Families that struggle with pediatric mental illness and more.

    First of all, Medical Marijuana was recently legalized in our state. However, doctors here can't yet prescribe it. Autism is on the list of conditions, but, we made our decision about a year ago not to wait.

    Now before you get your panties in a bunch thinking we let our 10 year old smoke pot, calm down, and read on.

    A year ago, we made the decision to try CBD oil with our son. For those that aren't quite familiar with what it is, or for those who are curious, CBD, or Cannabidiol oil is derived from Hemp, but does NOT include THC. THC, or tetrahydrocannabinol is the component in Marijuana that is responsible for it's psychological effects.


    So CBD is made from Hemp. It's NON psychoactive and will NOT get the user "high." Though CBD and THC both act very differently, they treat many of the same medical issues.

    CBD has been known to help with anxiety, pain, psychosis, as an anti-inflammatory, anticonvulsant and more.

    So how did we decide this for our CHILD?

    Well it wasn't without a LOT of thought. A lot of research, and we both tried it before we administered it to our child.

    I personally suffer from fibromyalgia, migraines, and anxiety, so I was the first to try it. (CBD can be used in a vapor pen/box for adults, and it can also be taken orally, for kids/adults. As a matter of fact, they now have it in many flavors.) I waited until I had a nasty headache and tried it. Sure enough within 15 minutes, my headache was easing up. I then tried it before a particularly busy day of "peopling." Again, my anxiety stayed in check a lot better than normal. (I take Zoloft for my anxiety, but some days, as many of you know, are worse than others.)

    Of course, through this process, I was relaying how well it helped me to my hubby. It was his turn next. He suffers from many fractures, and has a ton of metal in his body from repair surgeries. So my husband gave it go for his pain. For him, while it took the edge off, it of course didn't take it a way. BUT, it DID help. So, should we give it to our child?

    Our child struggles deeply with Bipolar Disorder. He is autistic as well, and sometimes the two make the other worse. Some days are a constant battle for our son. Especially in the Spring. What finally helped us make the decision to try CBD with him, was after we had to take him to ER for a reaction to a PRESCRIBED medication.

    Last year during his deep depression, my son's Doctor told us he thought Liam needed Risperdal. About a week later, on his birthday non the less, we headed to the ER because our son had a reaction to this prescribed, and widely used drug.

    There is nothing scarier than your child having suicidal thoughts at such a young age. Now add to that a child who has his head turned to one side. He is now speaking from the side of his mouth, as the other side is paralyzed. He related that his "throat was fat, and wouldn't work," and he was twitching. Oh God, the twitching. We were terrified. We thought our nine year old was having a stroke. Turns out it was Tardive Dyskinesia. (Risperidone may rarely cause a condition known as tardive dyskinesia. In some cases, this condition may be permanent.)

    Mind you, a LEGAL DRUG caused this reaction in our child. Not only do hospitals in our area have a hard time dealing with pediatric mental illness, but they are also clueless about the reactions that can come from such drugs used treat these illnesses. He was given antihistamines, watched for an hour and sent home.

    That evening my husband and I decided that something natural would be much safer than heavy psychotics. We gave our son a few days to recover, and gave him his first dose of CBD oil.

    We never looked back. Now, our son is still on a low dose of Zoloft for his depression and anxiety, and for the day to day, it helps him tons. When he cycles deeply or is unusually anxious, out comes the CBD oil.

    It helps him. It REALLY helps him. As with me, within 15 minutes of taking this perfectly LEGAL and NATURAL oil, he starts to feel better. He tells us, his "mind is less busy, and not mean to me."

    Until now, NO ONE but a few family members, and very close friends whose children have the same struggles, know we use CBD for our son. Even though it's perfectly legal, there are still some people who are uneducated about what it really is and how it helps. These same people tend to be very judgmental about it as well.

    So why I am I telling all of you this? Well, because I have always been up front and honest with my followers about our journey. I feel that if it helped our son so much, then maybe it can help yours too.

    I personally would love to see Risperdal pulled from all pharmacies, but it actually does help some people. I would just hate to see parents have to witness what we did. And I would hate to see a child struggle with those severe effects, like our son did.

    So here I am. I'm coming out. We Use CBD Oil to Help Our Autistic Bipolar Son. It works. It has been a God send. We are not ashamed, and we will not hide it any longer.


Thursday, April 28, 2016

You Only Care About Your Daughters, Not Our Sons

    I'm tired. I'm tired of ignorance. I'm tired of bigotry. I'm tired of people arguing and shoving their opinions down everyone else's throats.

    So here's the thing. All these people throwing a fit about gender neutral bathrooms, need to stop.

    Stop and LISTEN to what you're saying.

    You're all worried about trans people "preying on our daughters in gender neutral bathrooms!" 

    What about our boys? 

  You mean to tell me that just because it's a "men's only" bathroom, there's no chance of a pedophile being in there?

    If you think that, you need to wake up!

    As bathrooms stand right now, I have to send my nine year old, special needs son, into the men's bathroom, ALONE. When I do take him into the ladies room, (because yes, there are times when he struggles with buttons and snaps, and needs help) I get nasty looks, because he's big for his age. He's also at the age where he thinks he needs to use the men's room. But what if he needs help? He's in there, all ALONE. What if there's a predator in there?

    Some places now have a "family bathroom," which is great. The problem with this is, it's ONE bathroom, for a family. So if it's occupied, and let me tell you, it usually ALWAYS is, people like me still have to make a choice. Do we take our child in with us? Deal with nasty side glances, and our kids whining because they're "too big for this!" Or do we let our kid go into their "gender" bathroom and worry if they need help. Worse yet, worry they could be touched, or lulled into being kidnapped.

    Also, NEWS FLASH, being LGBTQ doesn't make you a criminal. They are human, just like YOU and just like ME. So these people associating this community with being pedophiles is not only homophobic, it's wrong!

    I've also read, "well I shouldn't have to explain to my young child about trans people." WAKE UP people. First of all, they will encounter LGBTQ people in their lives at some point. Start teaching them acceptance NOW. Also, if you actually feel that they are too young for that now, it wouldn't kill you to just say, "everyone looks different sweetie," when your child comments on why someone in the restroom looks differently.

    Basically this boils down to Civil Rights. Remember learning about the 60's when African Americans had to use separate bathrooms as Caucasians? Well, guess what, that was deemed to be against their civil rights, just like this will be. It's the 21st century people. The world is changing, and this close minded thinking isn't evolving with the rest of us.


So do us all a favor. Learn some acceptance. Teach your children some acceptance. Then we'll all make the world a better place. One kid at a time.






Sunday, March 20, 2016

Happy to Sad in T Minus Five and Counting

          Happy to Sad in T Minus Five and Counting


 I was laying in bed this morning, enjoying the quiet and watching some tv. I could see on the monitor that Liam was awake, watching Pat and Jen on YouTube, and playing Minecraft. All was right in our world.

   Or so I thought.

   Not ten minutes later, I saw him head to my chair and turn on my heating pad. He disappeared for a moment, as he headed into the kitchen and turned on my Keurig. This kid has my morning shuffle down pat! I was beaming with pride at his kindness and as as he walked in, I couldn't wait to tell him how sweet that was.

   Then he stopped at the foot of my bed. His back was to me, as he stared at the fireplace. What he said next made my heart skip a beat, and then lodge in my throat.

   In a quiet little voice, that is so unlike my son, he said, "Mommy, I was watching YouTube and then my brain had two more bad thoughts.... I didn't want to be alone, so I came to get you. I turned on your heating pad, and got your coffee started. Can you please come out to the living room with me?"

                                       Instantaneous Heartbreak...................

   That saying, "You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have," well that is my son's life in a nutshell. He has over come more emotionally and mentally at (almost) 10 years old, than some people have to, in their entire life time. And he keeps fighting.  

   And here comes the cycle. The big one. The one that makes his life constant turmoil for weeks. It starts slowly. Working it's way in, and then it hits like a hurricane, and there's no turning back.

   Being Autistic is a struggle in and of itself, then you add in a mix of comorbids, (the simultaneous presence of two chronic diseases, disorders, or conditions in a patient. Ex:. ADHD, Anxiety, etc.) Now toss in a mental illness to boot, well then you have a recipe for disaster. I'm not kidding. I'm also not trying to sound heartless, I'm being honest.

   This isn't to say he doesn't have good days. The majority of his days are good. Yes, he has meltdowns, yes he stims,(self-stimulatory behavior, also known as stimming and self-stimulation, is the repetition of physical movements, sounds, or repetitive movement of objects common in individuals with developmental disabilities, but most prevalent in people with autistic spectrum disorders.) But those things come with the autism territory. We roll with those punches. It's the mental illness that puts the most strain on him, and honestly us too.

   I said it many times before, but I'll say it again. Being a parent, it's our job to care for our children. To help what ails them. But when it's something you can't fix, it's devastating. When they look at you and ask, "Mommy, can't you make it stop?" your heart rips in two.

   Thankfully the older Liam gets, and thanks to his hard work, and his amazing SLP, (Speech-language pathologists (SLPs) work to prevent, assess, diagnose, and treat speech, language, social communication, cognitive-communication, and swallowing disorders in children and adults,) and his amazing BSC's, (Behavioral Specialist Consultant - A BSC can provide training, consultation and supervision of team members in any setting where a child may be experiencing emotional or behavioral problems,)  he has become articulate enough to express these feelings. He doesn't hold them in and let them eat away at him. He tells us. Each and every one. The feelings he expresses overwhelm us. Can you imagine how it must be for him?

   I can't. And when I try, I ache so bad for him, that I can't bring myself to think of it. I have to become numb. I have to autopilot myself. Everything around me becomes static, because the only thing I can focus on, the only thing I NEED to focus on, is him.

   And so the countdown begins. The countdown to the yearly cycle that puts us all in an alternate universe. Hell. That's how we all describe it. It's Hell.

  In our world, Hell is this time of the year. Liam withdraws. He barely eats. He either cries, or screams and is beside himself with grief, for weeks on end. He stims, A LOT! Mainly rocking, or wanting to be rocked in our laps. Thankfully he does talk to us, but barely. He doesn’t communicate “normally.” He will tell us what his “mind tells him,” but that’s it. He doesn’t smile. He doesn’t laugh. Nothing that would normally make him happy works. He refuses to leave the confines of our home. If we do manage to get him out, his anxiety worsens, and it just isn’t worth it. We can’t leave his side. He can’t be alone for even a moment. When he cycles this deeply, suicide is a real worry.

   Yes, you read that right. My (almost) ten year old has suicidal thoughts. He has since he was five years old. It’s hard to write. Even harder to say. But we have to. People need to know the reality of mental illness in children. Dangerous objects in the home that you may not think about normally, you become super focused on. For instance, the knives I keep over my stove, they’re out of his reach, but what if I went to use the bathroom and he climbed up and got one? So they have to be moved out of even my reach. (He’s almost as tall as I am.) All the knobs on the gas stove are taken off and put up on top of the fridge (with the knives.) That way, God forbid his mind went there, he wouldn’t get to them before one of us could get to him.


   This is our reality. This is our life. This is his struggle. This is real. This is Hell.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Being Fat May Not Be Where It's At, But It's Part of Me

    In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a fatty. Am I ashamed? Hell no! What I am ashamed of is how non fat people, judge fat people like myself.

    You don't know my story. I don't know yours. Which is why I won't stare at you, and judge you.

    Am I trying to glorify being fat? Nope. But I'm tired of being ashamed of being me. I won't be ashamed of being me.

    You see, I'm a mother. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A cousin. An aunt. I'm someones friend. And I'm fat. I'm also chronically ill. 


    Just getting out of bed is a chore for me. Taking a bath, and having to wash my hair is exhausting. But like I said, I'm a wife, and a mother, and more. I HAVE to do these things, and so much more. I push through the pain and exhaustion, and live my life, to the best of my ability.

    I recently got a knock off pedometer thingy. I'm proud of myself for doing 2500 steps a day. Yeah, I know, most of you are happy to get 5,000, even 10,000, and that's great for you. For someone who struggles to walk, taking 2,500 steps is HUGE for me.

    And the days where I am so exhausted, I can barely make 1,500 steps, well I'm proud of that too. I'm proud, because I'm trying.

    Being fat isn't a CHOICE. It happens. Believe it or not, before my son, and before all these illnesses, I was only 100 pounds.

    My weight is a number. It doesn't define me. Just like autism doesn't define us. Or our illnesses don't define us.

    Do I want to be healthy? Hell yes! I WISH my immune system and my body could work together. I hate being sick. I hate having to tell my son I can't play outside with him because I'm too ill. I spend my "good" days making up for the "bad" ones. Then,  I do so much with my son, and around my house, that the next day will always be a "bad" day for me.

    This is the life of chronic illness. This is the life of a fat person. So stop judging me. Stop judging others. (Also, saying, "She's pretty, for a fat girl," is super rude, so stop doing that too.)

Sincerely,

All the fat people  <3 <3