I am not quite a hoarder. I mean I'm not like some of those poor souls you see on some of those reality shows who are in danger of being buried or suffocated by stuff. I tend to keep papers. I think it has been so ingrained, ie, taxes to keep documents for years after their relevance. Just in case. I was actually trying hard to break this habit, and was about to toss my copy of transfer papers on a car I sold a few years ago, (that I am sure is now long gone from this jurisdiction.) Something held me back, so I just stuffed it into the HOLD file I have for limbo papers such as this. It popped into my mind while I was renewing my vehicle insurance, so I inquired. I was floored when the insurance agent informed me that I have to keep any copies of transfer papers for SEVEN years! I have parted ways with vehicles that I am certain are in car heaven (or hell) long before that time runs out--yet I am expected to keep the documentation that at one point in time I made a transaction to purchase or dispose of it. I am now on my 6th vehicle in my string of vehicle ownership. By these rules they are forcing me to hoard documentation on the most current three. So I guess I was safe ditching paperwork on the Tempo, Metro, and Swift. Cavalier, Wave, and newest member (affectionately known as Escape Pod!) need to sit in filing cabinet prison for a term yet.
More about the filing cabinet prison. I keep all kinds of paper in there, some neatly filed by year or subject, and other stuff is just labelled CORRESPONDENCE. This is mostly letters, from an era when I wrote a lot of them, and to several people. Most of these nice folks wrote back, so after their replies were read into the file they went--and stayed! Once in a while I will flick through and pull out a few for a trip down memory lane. They always go back, not planning on throwing out memories! On my most recent rummaging, I found another small paper based memory. On one hand I was delighted to find it, and let the memories associated with it come flooding back. On the other hand, I was mildly annoyed with myself that I had lost track of this little treasure. If it was just out in the big world, no one but myself would assign any value to it. I admit today there is no real value, but the memory it can recall. To me it is priceless, and if keeping it means I am hoarding, then so be it. I will admit that keeping that little scrap based on a memory is an idiosyncrasy of mine!
This led me to think of more idiosyncrasies: I always saved the best part of the meal for last. I can remember my Dad asking me why I wasn't devouring steak he made, and I recall stating that I was saving best for last. I guess that was just one of the peculiar things I did that made me, ME. I still have to pull the ripped strands off the TP, as they look like they shouldn't be there. I can leave them, but I strongly prefer to have them gone! I like an empty vehicle before I start singing along to whatever is in the CD player, or on the iPod. It's not that I despise an audience or think my voice is horrible (maybe it is!) but singing to my tunes in the Escape Pod is just my thing that I do. I do it because I want to feel whatever it is that song gives me. As i get older I care less what I look like while I am singing and driving. I am trying to get better about embracing my idiosyncrasies. It's about the small things that give us pleasure. They may seem odd or peculiar to others, but they are what make us who we are. (Excuse me, while I crank the volume mid-song to a really good part!)
So, unless I asking for an opinion, I will happily embrace my idiosyncrasies on a daily basis, and not give a damn what anyone thinks. Don't like something about my appearance? It may just be a favourite part for me, and as I am steering this Life, it will be my decision. There are few things in life that are truly under our complete control, and if it's not hurting another, it's no one's business but my own if I want to be a little weird about little things that are important to me!
Friday, July 15, 2016
Tuesday, June 28, 2016
Ho Hum...
I'm surprising myself. It's a work night, and I am partaking. Not enough to get toasted, but just a few little drinkies to make my mind wander a little. I am in an all work, and no play, making me--dull? Don't get me wrong, my workplace can be an interesting place to be with a wide range of people. It's just I am starting to feel I have spent a little too much time there. My current time sheet can attest to this fact. There are too many days showing well over 8 hours shifts. I love feeling like I am an integral part of the well-oiled machine, but I am starting to wonder if I can say no. Or if I even want to. I'm not besties with everyone I work with, but I can respect where they all come from. Some have strength in their speed, others in their reliability, and still others in that they are just good all-rounders. All in all a decent bunch.
I can feel myself slip to auto-pilot when the day starts getting too long. Lately I have been making up all kinds of dramatic stories in my head to entertain myself. Turns out my medical terminology is better than even I knew, as I started thinking up an emergency in my head and what specialty doctor to call. At the end of the day I Googled it to make sure even my imagination was accurate. Yep, it was! Guess reading all those Robin Cook novels came in handy. If I had the grades or aptitude I would be working in the medical field. Of course, not everything they do is drama and fast-pace. I'm sure they have some boring, blah moments too. I guess we can thank TV and movies for making everything edge-of-your-seat exciting.
So, here I sit, Monday night/Tuesday AM, contemplating what I will be doing for real fun when I get released from my work sentence. Should I do adult shit, and play catch-up, or should I play hooky from this whole adult BS? I have a milestone coming up, and I have just about convinced myself I don't really give jack-squat about it. It's just a number of laps our planet has done around the Sun after all. I don't feel that number. I think there is a "kid-ish" part of me resisting this whole getting older and wiser crap. Like the quotes crowding my Facebook feed, I still look to the "adultier" adults in my life. The ones who rock at life! The ones blazing the way. The body I wear is serving me well, but it ain't no teenager any more. If I want it to be a temple, I will have to work at it. I will need to decide what is important to me. Do I want to look smokin'? Or do I wanna be front row at a party in my head?
Life has to be more than just what we have to do. There has to be some want to do to break up the drudgery and monotony of everyday living. I can think of some crazy shit I would do with the right company. Stuff that someone "my age", SHOULDN'T be doing, but fuck the "shouldn't police." If I'm not hurting anyone, who has the right to say what I should or shouldn't be doing anyhow? I thought that was the idea of being an adult anyhow. I pay my taxes/bills, look after my kidlets, and yep, there's still a part of me that needs to be me. So, I go on, ho-hum--until the next adventure!
I can feel myself slip to auto-pilot when the day starts getting too long. Lately I have been making up all kinds of dramatic stories in my head to entertain myself. Turns out my medical terminology is better than even I knew, as I started thinking up an emergency in my head and what specialty doctor to call. At the end of the day I Googled it to make sure even my imagination was accurate. Yep, it was! Guess reading all those Robin Cook novels came in handy. If I had the grades or aptitude I would be working in the medical field. Of course, not everything they do is drama and fast-pace. I'm sure they have some boring, blah moments too. I guess we can thank TV and movies for making everything edge-of-your-seat exciting.
So, here I sit, Monday night/Tuesday AM, contemplating what I will be doing for real fun when I get released from my work sentence. Should I do adult shit, and play catch-up, or should I play hooky from this whole adult BS? I have a milestone coming up, and I have just about convinced myself I don't really give jack-squat about it. It's just a number of laps our planet has done around the Sun after all. I don't feel that number. I think there is a "kid-ish" part of me resisting this whole getting older and wiser crap. Like the quotes crowding my Facebook feed, I still look to the "adultier" adults in my life. The ones who rock at life! The ones blazing the way. The body I wear is serving me well, but it ain't no teenager any more. If I want it to be a temple, I will have to work at it. I will need to decide what is important to me. Do I want to look smokin'? Or do I wanna be front row at a party in my head?
Life has to be more than just what we have to do. There has to be some want to do to break up the drudgery and monotony of everyday living. I can think of some crazy shit I would do with the right company. Stuff that someone "my age", SHOULDN'T be doing, but fuck the "shouldn't police." If I'm not hurting anyone, who has the right to say what I should or shouldn't be doing anyhow? I thought that was the idea of being an adult anyhow. I pay my taxes/bills, look after my kidlets, and yep, there's still a part of me that needs to be me. So, I go on, ho-hum--until the next adventure!
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Excuses, Excuses...
I could probably sit here all night thinking up excuses for why I have been so inactive on the writing scene lately. Oops, I see my last entry was in February, and um, it's now into the second half of May. Like a lot of folks I can blame Life. Not the Life I want to live right now, but the one I am just bumping along in. The daily grind. Drag arse out of bed, try to fuel with some type of hot beverage, maybe sneak in a little peek at any Facebook dramas that have developed overnight, then off to wake up three young people who apparently want to drag their arses out of bed even less than I do. Repeat the warnings of consequences of not getting out of bed, and now a recent morning addition, make sure eldest kiddo downs his daily Concerta tablet. Make sure kiddos are doing what I asked. More often than not, I have to pull clothing out for everyone and chuck it in the general vicinity of each. Thankfully, I no longer have to dress any of them. Didn't mind at the time, but grateful I no longer have too! Remind the pokey plodders that I too have somewhere to be at a certain time, and that they are not welcome to hold me up if they wish to have motorized transport to school.
First victory of the day, out of the house, kiddos dropped of and on the way to work. Hope beyond hope that everyone scheduled to be in, actually makes it in, or there's an immediate dent in the process. Here's where I get weird. I have been doing my job long enough that I can do most of it on auto-pilot, freeing my mind to think off on its own tangents. For the past few months however, I have been feeling a strange vibe that I suddenly need to prove myself again. Hours used to be given out based on seniority and worker's availability. I used to get my hours and go about my business of getting it done. Lately though, it seems to be less about who's been loyal and reliable, and more about who gives the best sob story to upper management. I was a little pissed to see an employee who was with us less than a month get more hours than me two weeks in a row. I fumed and wasted brain power wondering how I could broach this without looking like an entitled bitch. I also thought about how this travesty did nothing to build rapport, as all I could find myself doing was resenting this new "intruder". I felt somewhat entitled to think this way, as we had all been assured at a staff meeting that new hires were not getting priority for offered hours. I almost felt as it I was being punished for asking for a legitimate day off for an appointment with a specialist in Terrace, which for those who aren't familiar with my local geography, is a 200 km, 2-hour drive in good conditions. No way was I going to do the drive there and back and then come in for the latter part of the shift.
Enough whining about that! Back to the need to prove myself. I now find myself trying to meet ridiculous goals to prove just how good I think I am. I am starting to realize that I should not be knocking myself out to the point of daily exhaustion and aches for a company that doesn't really seem to give a shit. (Not pardoning my French!)
Here is where my current pondering is taking me. Yes, I generally like my job, mostly for the people and the variety. I have some awesome co-workers, past and present. I now need to decide if that is really enough, or if I need to make a big SCARY, out of my velvet rut change, and do something else. I need to consider the toll on my joints, as I am noticing they are stiff at the end of the day, and often still so by the end of the weekend. Hell, I don't FEEL old, but my joints are reminding me that unfortunately, like it or not, they are aging, and can't take all the crazy abuse they once did. Not out to pasture yet, but I guess I am entering middle age--yikes!
Anyway those are my excuses, excuses for not buckling down to putting something down. Some of my other awesome excuses are: Boxes of books to read, other people's demand of my time, awesome weather, everyday errands--the list goes on. The important thing is I made it a priority to get something out of my head, which will maybe get the creative juices stirring again!
First victory of the day, out of the house, kiddos dropped of and on the way to work. Hope beyond hope that everyone scheduled to be in, actually makes it in, or there's an immediate dent in the process. Here's where I get weird. I have been doing my job long enough that I can do most of it on auto-pilot, freeing my mind to think off on its own tangents. For the past few months however, I have been feeling a strange vibe that I suddenly need to prove myself again. Hours used to be given out based on seniority and worker's availability. I used to get my hours and go about my business of getting it done. Lately though, it seems to be less about who's been loyal and reliable, and more about who gives the best sob story to upper management. I was a little pissed to see an employee who was with us less than a month get more hours than me two weeks in a row. I fumed and wasted brain power wondering how I could broach this without looking like an entitled bitch. I also thought about how this travesty did nothing to build rapport, as all I could find myself doing was resenting this new "intruder". I felt somewhat entitled to think this way, as we had all been assured at a staff meeting that new hires were not getting priority for offered hours. I almost felt as it I was being punished for asking for a legitimate day off for an appointment with a specialist in Terrace, which for those who aren't familiar with my local geography, is a 200 km, 2-hour drive in good conditions. No way was I going to do the drive there and back and then come in for the latter part of the shift.
Enough whining about that! Back to the need to prove myself. I now find myself trying to meet ridiculous goals to prove just how good I think I am. I am starting to realize that I should not be knocking myself out to the point of daily exhaustion and aches for a company that doesn't really seem to give a shit. (Not pardoning my French!)
Here is where my current pondering is taking me. Yes, I generally like my job, mostly for the people and the variety. I have some awesome co-workers, past and present. I now need to decide if that is really enough, or if I need to make a big SCARY, out of my velvet rut change, and do something else. I need to consider the toll on my joints, as I am noticing they are stiff at the end of the day, and often still so by the end of the weekend. Hell, I don't FEEL old, but my joints are reminding me that unfortunately, like it or not, they are aging, and can't take all the crazy abuse they once did. Not out to pasture yet, but I guess I am entering middle age--yikes!
Anyway those are my excuses, excuses for not buckling down to putting something down. Some of my other awesome excuses are: Boxes of books to read, other people's demand of my time, awesome weather, everyday errands--the list goes on. The important thing is I made it a priority to get something out of my head, which will maybe get the creative juices stirring again!
Wednesday, February 17, 2016
A Tale of Henry
As I was letting my thoughts flow freely at work earlier today, I thought of a little tale I could write. It's a short & sweet, so I thought I would include it with my thoughts.
Henry
He needed a job, but man, did he suck! He finally found a place that would take him. He got put to work doing all the dirty jobs no one else wanted to do. He was the last one picked when they had to partner up at work. It wasn't that he was ugly or anything, but he had tendencies to be a little different. Some said he seemed drunk, and his eyes always seemed to be looking off somewhere inappropriate. He was clumsy, and always seemed to be getting in the way, or tripping whoever he was paired with that day. He wasn't too steady, and ended up on his head quite often. He made rude-sounding noises as he moved about. Quite honestly, the only reason he was tolerated was because he sucked at his job. Literally. Henry is a vacuum!
I started thinking about how we put human attributes to things around us, and how when we hear a story with a name and human qualities, like clumsiness, we would first assume our central character is a person. I fondly remember reading a story called Sentry, in high school. It wasn't until the last bit of the story which we took the main character to be human, do we learn that the sentry is an alien to us, but the story is his/her point of view, and we humans are the aliens, and strange. The last lines about how repulsive we were with our two arms and legs, and no scales, and our ghastly white skin!
It shows again how it all boils down to perspective. Henry can be compared to an annoying person who really is useful, even if he is a pain in the ass! I almost wonder if the company put the face on the vacuum to try to encourage users to be more "gentle" with it. Sure at first glance a painted on little face is cute. Didn't last long. I have smashed his "face" into door frames more times than I can count. His constant tipping prompts me to right him with the admonishment to lay off the sauce. More than one co-worker has commented that he sounds like he's farting as we drag his sorry little canister down the hall. I could get X-rated on choice of speeds. Anemic or um, slightly less anemic. I won't say what would be said about Henry in that department if he were human! Like an outcast, he is the last piece of equipment picked for the above irritating qualities.
So, lucky me, will end up having this little buddy again, so may as well have fun making fun him! After all, it's not like the vacuum is going to report me to HR!
Henry
He needed a job, but man, did he suck! He finally found a place that would take him. He got put to work doing all the dirty jobs no one else wanted to do. He was the last one picked when they had to partner up at work. It wasn't that he was ugly or anything, but he had tendencies to be a little different. Some said he seemed drunk, and his eyes always seemed to be looking off somewhere inappropriate. He was clumsy, and always seemed to be getting in the way, or tripping whoever he was paired with that day. He wasn't too steady, and ended up on his head quite often. He made rude-sounding noises as he moved about. Quite honestly, the only reason he was tolerated was because he sucked at his job. Literally. Henry is a vacuum!
I started thinking about how we put human attributes to things around us, and how when we hear a story with a name and human qualities, like clumsiness, we would first assume our central character is a person. I fondly remember reading a story called Sentry, in high school. It wasn't until the last bit of the story which we took the main character to be human, do we learn that the sentry is an alien to us, but the story is his/her point of view, and we humans are the aliens, and strange. The last lines about how repulsive we were with our two arms and legs, and no scales, and our ghastly white skin!
It shows again how it all boils down to perspective. Henry can be compared to an annoying person who really is useful, even if he is a pain in the ass! I almost wonder if the company put the face on the vacuum to try to encourage users to be more "gentle" with it. Sure at first glance a painted on little face is cute. Didn't last long. I have smashed his "face" into door frames more times than I can count. His constant tipping prompts me to right him with the admonishment to lay off the sauce. More than one co-worker has commented that he sounds like he's farting as we drag his sorry little canister down the hall. I could get X-rated on choice of speeds. Anemic or um, slightly less anemic. I won't say what would be said about Henry in that department if he were human! Like an outcast, he is the last piece of equipment picked for the above irritating qualities.
So, lucky me, will end up having this little buddy again, so may as well have fun making fun him! After all, it's not like the vacuum is going to report me to HR!
Sunday, February 14, 2016
Where's the Manual? Never Mind, I'll Write My Own...
It's no secret I have a son with a developmental delay, at least that's what the experts tell me. Officially, Pervasive Developmental Disorder--Not Otherwise Specified, or PDD-NOS.
Right from the time he was born, he was labelled "sensitive," which I never quite understood, other than that he could be hard to settle, and he wasn't quite as responsive to being cuddled as I would expect him to be. I chalked up the not being very cuddly to the fact that he was born at a hot time of year, and it just wasn't comfortable! He could sleep through all kinds of noises, but if that same noise occurred while he was awake it was game over. At 18 months I answered the questionnaire at the health unit about his speech. An innocent enough question at the bottom asked if he could say a certain number of words. I interpreted that to mean clearly spoken words that adults other than myself would be able to understand. I ticked "no" even though he said things that I understood even if they weren't full or clear words. We were given an opportunity to have him seen by the staff speech-language pathologist. What an ordeal! I don't know if it was a sign of things to come, or if he just had a dislike for the woman, but she could not engage him at all! He would be in her office for five minutes, then toddle furiously for the door, which was closed. Even though he couldn't turn the knob, he sure as hell tried!
I began dreading taking him in, as I felt as if it were somehow my fault he couldn't/wouldn't comply. It was a relief to be able to tell her we had to take a break, as he was going to Newfoundland with his Dad for two weeks to meet his Nanny and Poppy. Almost right away when they returned, I noticed he was saying a lot more, and clearly enough too! This was enough to make the decision to not go back to the non-productive appointments at the health unit.
Looking back, (isn't hind-sight great?) there were little things he maybe did a bit differently, but as he was my first-born, I had no real bench-mark to compare him to. He was hitting a lot of physical milestones at the right time, even if he was lighter and shorter than average. He was off and walking like a pro at 11 months, and I am sure this was a big accomplishment to him, as he had been putting full weight on his feet from two months on, and seemed to be calmed by being held in an upright position, which was not practical for me to do all day long! Other than that he seemed to be a typical little guy, loved his cars and trucks, and was content to sit and play with them for long periods of time, which I will admit was welcome once his little brother came along when he was two. Preschool was when we noticed it was getting rough for him. The teacher told us he had outbursts when asked to change activities, and he was fairly rigid with what he would play with in the play room. I was concerned that he was taking his sweet time in the potty department. He was four before I could get him to not need a diaper during the day, but he still insisted on one at night, mostly as he was holding his poop in until then. Without fail, he would call out that he had pooped in the diaper within a half hour of one being put on. This persisted into kindergarten, at which point I was getting frustrated, as baby #3 was on the way, and I was in no mood to be diapering THREE kids!
Medically, we learned there was no reason for him to NEED a diaper, so began the coaxing and pushing to use the toilet. Once this was accomplished we thought that was that, but no!
Back to talk to yet another doctor, who felt he was experiencing pain from holding it in for so long, and this was just his digestive system adjusting.
By now the school had convinced us to have him tested, so began the questionnaires, and then the WAIT. Finally at the beginning of Grade 1, the BCAAN team was in town and ready to assess him. The psychologist was really nice and assured him she was a special "talking" doctor and that no needles would be involved. He was fine with that and went willingly for her battery of tests. When he came out of the room he had a handful of stickers he had earned. The next day was the talk with the pediatrician. She too, assured him no needles would be involved, so off he went!
The next day was the big meeting with everyone present to discuss their findings. Lots was said, but the upshot was that they did indeed feel his symptoms and behaviours put him on the autism spectrum. The pediatrician said she was on the cusp of a decision, and when he picked his nose with no apparent shame or embarrassment that was the final clincher. She announced the PDD-NOS diagnosis, then added in that with all the information provided to her, she was also going to say he has ADHD.
I remembered clarifying the diagnosis by asking if PDD-NOS was similar to a diagnosis of Asperger's. I was told yes, it was, but that Asperger's is an old diagnostic term, which is why it never came up.
The upshot? We now know the reason for his behaviour, but now we have to figure out how to work with it. Any time I get frustrated now, I tell myself he didn't come with an owner/operator's manual. I have had to write my own. Like so many other aspects of life, it's a work in progress, with multiple updates and revisions. Lots of things are learned by trial and error, and some things still yet need to be learned. He's a good kid, and I feel saddened when I can't help him as much as I think I should be able too. I am grateful he's verbal at least, so we can sometimes accomplish things through discussion, but even that can be tedious at times. I have had to explain sarcasm and expressions to him, like when I saw something he liked, and said "Wow, that has your name written all over it!" Of course he looked, and DIDN'T see his name written on it anywhere, so I was challenged on my choice of words. Thankfully, he understands that one now, so if I say it, he'll usually just agree! Now that he's getting older, we're getting into the doozy territory, so I try to push any embarrassment aside to explain. I just want him to know that even if I am winging it, I am here for him--and trying!
Right from the time he was born, he was labelled "sensitive," which I never quite understood, other than that he could be hard to settle, and he wasn't quite as responsive to being cuddled as I would expect him to be. I chalked up the not being very cuddly to the fact that he was born at a hot time of year, and it just wasn't comfortable! He could sleep through all kinds of noises, but if that same noise occurred while he was awake it was game over. At 18 months I answered the questionnaire at the health unit about his speech. An innocent enough question at the bottom asked if he could say a certain number of words. I interpreted that to mean clearly spoken words that adults other than myself would be able to understand. I ticked "no" even though he said things that I understood even if they weren't full or clear words. We were given an opportunity to have him seen by the staff speech-language pathologist. What an ordeal! I don't know if it was a sign of things to come, or if he just had a dislike for the woman, but she could not engage him at all! He would be in her office for five minutes, then toddle furiously for the door, which was closed. Even though he couldn't turn the knob, he sure as hell tried!
I began dreading taking him in, as I felt as if it were somehow my fault he couldn't/wouldn't comply. It was a relief to be able to tell her we had to take a break, as he was going to Newfoundland with his Dad for two weeks to meet his Nanny and Poppy. Almost right away when they returned, I noticed he was saying a lot more, and clearly enough too! This was enough to make the decision to not go back to the non-productive appointments at the health unit.
Looking back, (isn't hind-sight great?) there were little things he maybe did a bit differently, but as he was my first-born, I had no real bench-mark to compare him to. He was hitting a lot of physical milestones at the right time, even if he was lighter and shorter than average. He was off and walking like a pro at 11 months, and I am sure this was a big accomplishment to him, as he had been putting full weight on his feet from two months on, and seemed to be calmed by being held in an upright position, which was not practical for me to do all day long! Other than that he seemed to be a typical little guy, loved his cars and trucks, and was content to sit and play with them for long periods of time, which I will admit was welcome once his little brother came along when he was two. Preschool was when we noticed it was getting rough for him. The teacher told us he had outbursts when asked to change activities, and he was fairly rigid with what he would play with in the play room. I was concerned that he was taking his sweet time in the potty department. He was four before I could get him to not need a diaper during the day, but he still insisted on one at night, mostly as he was holding his poop in until then. Without fail, he would call out that he had pooped in the diaper within a half hour of one being put on. This persisted into kindergarten, at which point I was getting frustrated, as baby #3 was on the way, and I was in no mood to be diapering THREE kids!
Medically, we learned there was no reason for him to NEED a diaper, so began the coaxing and pushing to use the toilet. Once this was accomplished we thought that was that, but no!
Back to talk to yet another doctor, who felt he was experiencing pain from holding it in for so long, and this was just his digestive system adjusting.
By now the school had convinced us to have him tested, so began the questionnaires, and then the WAIT. Finally at the beginning of Grade 1, the BCAAN team was in town and ready to assess him. The psychologist was really nice and assured him she was a special "talking" doctor and that no needles would be involved. He was fine with that and went willingly for her battery of tests. When he came out of the room he had a handful of stickers he had earned. The next day was the talk with the pediatrician. She too, assured him no needles would be involved, so off he went!
The next day was the big meeting with everyone present to discuss their findings. Lots was said, but the upshot was that they did indeed feel his symptoms and behaviours put him on the autism spectrum. The pediatrician said she was on the cusp of a decision, and when he picked his nose with no apparent shame or embarrassment that was the final clincher. She announced the PDD-NOS diagnosis, then added in that with all the information provided to her, she was also going to say he has ADHD.
I remembered clarifying the diagnosis by asking if PDD-NOS was similar to a diagnosis of Asperger's. I was told yes, it was, but that Asperger's is an old diagnostic term, which is why it never came up.
The upshot? We now know the reason for his behaviour, but now we have to figure out how to work with it. Any time I get frustrated now, I tell myself he didn't come with an owner/operator's manual. I have had to write my own. Like so many other aspects of life, it's a work in progress, with multiple updates and revisions. Lots of things are learned by trial and error, and some things still yet need to be learned. He's a good kid, and I feel saddened when I can't help him as much as I think I should be able too. I am grateful he's verbal at least, so we can sometimes accomplish things through discussion, but even that can be tedious at times. I have had to explain sarcasm and expressions to him, like when I saw something he liked, and said "Wow, that has your name written all over it!" Of course he looked, and DIDN'T see his name written on it anywhere, so I was challenged on my choice of words. Thankfully, he understands that one now, so if I say it, he'll usually just agree! Now that he's getting older, we're getting into the doozy territory, so I try to push any embarrassment aside to explain. I just want him to know that even if I am winging it, I am here for him--and trying!
Saturday, January 30, 2016
My Behind the Scenes vs Other's Highlight Reels
I start by admitting I am guilty of being insecure on many levels. I could rehash the many reasons/excuses for why I think I am the way I am, but it would be just that--rehashing. I cannot learn any more from what has been the path I have come down. I can only now focus on the present, and hopefully the future. The cool little saying about comparing ourselves to one another by way of our private behind the scene moments, where we are our own harsh judge and critic, to the outwardly good deeds and actions of others we admire. Surely these individuals don't have the same problems, flaws, or nagging thoughts we have! While in some ways it's nice to think that we are focusing on the good or strengths of others we admire, it also makes sense to step back to consider, in life we all have our own inherent positives. It's the things we do easily, without really thinking about doing them. It's the things that take more effort, or that we feel we are falling short in, that we tend to notice and criticize internally.
I can think of a good example off the top of my head: I go out driving. I wasn't that great at it in the beginning, but now years later, much of it is second nature. I can safely get where I want to go while obeying the rules of the road. All is good! I make one little judgement mistake backing up (no harm done, for the record!) yet I will internally beat myself up for being "stupid," while maybe instead, I should be thinking of myself as human. Mistakes get made, learn from it, and move one . If I get too entrenched on the self-judgement path, I will substantially lower my opinion of my driving from "thumbs up", to "oh, my god, who would want to share the road with a driver like me?" I see everyone around me doing just as I am, but fresh off my mistake, I view them as "they must be better than me." If I stop to consider that we all have bad days and mishaps, who really knows? Maybe Joe there in front of me is guilty of yapping on his cell as he drives to the store to pick up whatever for dinner. Who knows, maybe the driver in the behemouth in the next lane is reaching for something on the seat instead of paying attention?
Comparing my behind the scenes footage fit for the cutting room floor, to any one else's highlight reel is useless when you really get into it. This is the base for insecurities to grow, and hell, I am guilty of letting those little bugger weed thoughts bloom, when I should be spending more time quashing them into the dirt to be compost for my new batch of more affirmative thoughts.
I'm not saying it's a competition to have the best highlight reel either. That's the fun of being human. We all have a different idea of what makes it to our highlights! Writing something as well as I witnessed it in a dream may be mine, while scoring a goal in hockey might be the neighbour kid's ideal. Making a butt tonne of money may be the businessman's dream, while a friend might just be pleased as punch if her garden exceeds her expectations.
I guess it all boils down to admiring other's accomplishments while not taking away from your own. It also means not letting mistakes and setbacks define you. This is what I am working on. If no harm comes from a mistake, take the lesson from it--then move the hell on instead of dredging it up over and over again to punish yourself time and time again.
I am in a race with no one. Others may share parts of my journey along the way, but when it looks like they pull ahead, I will remember they too are on their own journey, with their own highlight reel, and their own share of cutting room floor material!
I can think of a good example off the top of my head: I go out driving. I wasn't that great at it in the beginning, but now years later, much of it is second nature. I can safely get where I want to go while obeying the rules of the road. All is good! I make one little judgement mistake backing up (no harm done, for the record!) yet I will internally beat myself up for being "stupid," while maybe instead, I should be thinking of myself as human. Mistakes get made, learn from it, and move one . If I get too entrenched on the self-judgement path, I will substantially lower my opinion of my driving from "thumbs up", to "oh, my god, who would want to share the road with a driver like me?" I see everyone around me doing just as I am, but fresh off my mistake, I view them as "they must be better than me." If I stop to consider that we all have bad days and mishaps, who really knows? Maybe Joe there in front of me is guilty of yapping on his cell as he drives to the store to pick up whatever for dinner. Who knows, maybe the driver in the behemouth in the next lane is reaching for something on the seat instead of paying attention?
Comparing my behind the scenes footage fit for the cutting room floor, to any one else's highlight reel is useless when you really get into it. This is the base for insecurities to grow, and hell, I am guilty of letting those little bugger weed thoughts bloom, when I should be spending more time quashing them into the dirt to be compost for my new batch of more affirmative thoughts.
I'm not saying it's a competition to have the best highlight reel either. That's the fun of being human. We all have a different idea of what makes it to our highlights! Writing something as well as I witnessed it in a dream may be mine, while scoring a goal in hockey might be the neighbour kid's ideal. Making a butt tonne of money may be the businessman's dream, while a friend might just be pleased as punch if her garden exceeds her expectations.
I guess it all boils down to admiring other's accomplishments while not taking away from your own. It also means not letting mistakes and setbacks define you. This is what I am working on. If no harm comes from a mistake, take the lesson from it--then move the hell on instead of dredging it up over and over again to punish yourself time and time again.
I am in a race with no one. Others may share parts of my journey along the way, but when it looks like they pull ahead, I will remember they too are on their own journey, with their own highlight reel, and their own share of cutting room floor material!
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