Stop Trying

If everyone could see your thoughts like a bubble floating above your head, would you change the way you think? The words running through your mind when you have nothing but silence at the end of the day are not always chosen though. They appear like scenes in a movie, clips from your life or perhaps a daydream of things yet to happen. Which ones do you grasp and hold on to? If you choose the latter, you might find yourself on a path to motivation. Next thing you know you’re making plans, getting back on that bike and dancing in the kitchen. Or do you let the movie play out, reminding yourself that it doesn’t matter who you are, because no one wants you.

I’ve read horrendous stories of those who have been left as children with nothing but the clothes on their backs and sometimes not even their shoes. And then there are others who you would have no idea walk among us with no one to even call if they should need a shoulder to cry on. When you are taking care of yourself and perhaps a few others, it makes people feel really uncomfortable real quick when that person starts to cry. Sometimes they just offer unsolicited advice or tell you what you already know and that “you got this”. But whatever they are saying, they are saying to comfort themselves, not you.

Trust is a two way street that I pretty much never cross. I know I’m honest. I know I have integrity. I don’t say this to be smug, just that I know who I am. I don’t lie and I don’t feel right trying to be something I’m not whether someone is watching or not. But I realize this also makes people uneasy, mostly because many are not comfortable in themselves. I am so used to being put in uncomfortable situations from the time I was a kid, that it doesn’t bother me to own up to something I messed up or say something that is direct. All the stuff in between really is just like watching an ad for something you really don’t want. Look at me! Look what I can do! It’s just not my thing. I’m not hear to people please or make someone say, wow, she really makes me feel good, let’s keep her in our lives. No I want to be the person that they say, wow, she really will tell you the truth and I know I can trust her. I never have to worry that she is going to be passive aggressive or manipulative. That’s the kind of person I want people to like about me, but no one likes me. So I’m finding that the majority, just prefers being lied to. Like those ads. No really, just buy this and you will be better off! And they buy it, and if that were not true then we wouldn’t have so many places that sell so much stuff.

Then there are those times when you just wish you could hide, like not just from other people, but even yourself. Because in being honest, we are not always polite or thoughtful. And then we realize that it really was a moment of stupidity. Maybe you had one too many, or you let your emotions get to the conversation and didn’t consider all aspects of a situation. But either way, we are going to mess up. I like to just immediately resolve this, but of course this isn’t how life works. Many times it is not until later that I’ve had some time to myself to realize I’ve even said something stupid. And you can’t always go back in time or to that person. I find it’s best to just chalk up to, you tried. And you know you didn’t mean to cause harm, so next time, put on your listening ears. And this is how we become human. We try better next time.

Those thoughts though, even after hours or days or months or years of enjoying the life. Giving back, being motivated or being self absorbed and lazy. Realizing you will never be loved by another outside of your own kin is a depression that shows up. It shows up when I’m smiling ear to ear in a picture. It attends meetings at work or concerts and events. Inserts itself in conversation and then has the audacity to overstay its welcome. I’ve been successful many times and like to think that I have it outplayed when I distract it and move along. But it’s clingy and always comes back. Depression is the most unwelcome guest in your daily life that you never know when it will show up expecting to be entertained. It’s one sided and provides nothing during its visit. And at the end of the day, the only thing people care about is that we “handle it”. So you do. And you move on with it biting at your ankles while you smile and just shake it off.

This is the story of someone who stopped trying.

*** to be continued

Define Perfect

No one, not one thing is perfect.  What does the word even mean?  My son has asked me from time to time.  I can’t say as I really understand how to answer.

And those that think they may know someone that is, typically are the furthest from what I do think perfect might actually be. The word itself gives off a negative connotation.  If you think some one or some thing may be perfect, then you are stating everything outside of that is imperfect.  Then how do we define imperfect? 

It seems as though it is associated with anything that may make others uncomfortable. Out of the ordinary is not necessarily imperfect.  It could be a beautiful display of art, something so unique.  Rather though, it is those that choose to be their ordinary selves that evoke disgust or rejection from others.

I’ve encountered this more than I would have ever like to since my son was born.  While it is to be expected that other kids can be cruel at times, I was not fully prepared to see the cruelty of the school system.  My son entered first grade happily.  He was no doubt, overly stimulated by the loud students, extroverted teachers and large building.  To amend that, I was brought in for observation and viewed a teacher rewarding my son with a light up bouncy ball when he would sit quietly.  Oh yes, let’s provide a 7 year old with more stimulation, then punish him for using it during class, in which was the place it was given to him.

From then on, the phone calls and emails from teachers, principals and counselors poured in.  Berating is the word that comes to mind.  And as a single parent with no one else to take the load, it was border line harassment.  I began providing supports for my son, had him diagnosed (Aspergers at the time), therapy, but I did not understand what could be offered by the school.  That very moment of his diagnosis, the school met with me advising they would place him in a school that suited his needs better.  No special needs coordinator or IEP, just kicked out into a school where kids were put in rooms to be screamed at as though they were in boot camp.  Metal detectors lined the entrances.  My son was horrified, scared and so was I.

I wrote the district’s superintendent.  He agreed, he was angry he was never made aware of my son and his situation and immediately got me in touch with the Special Needs coordinator who taught me all about IEP’s and support classes.  We got him out and  put him in a better environment, but the damage was done.  My son no longer could trust adults, teachers or principals.

Unfortunately, trauma takes time to work through, and as he grew into middle school, he carried that weight.  Teachers frequently report that my son “thinks the world is out to get him”.  And I frequently remind them of what he has been through.  All the while being bullied day in and day out.  Beat up, called retard and receiving death threats to the point where sheriffs provide their cell numbers in case I may need them in the future. Yet the school staff continues to ignore it all, putting the blame of my son’s “bad behavior” on him and I.  And I continue to remind them that they are not following his IEP.  That they will not see changed behavior if they cannot provide a changed environment.  Meeting after meeting, it is only when I pull in another advocate and begin to push back that his needs are ”somewhat” met. 

To further show you just how uncomfortable my son and I make the perfect people at his school, just the other day I received a visit from a social worker with allegations that I am abusive.  My son was scared and immediately stated he would never think this, of course.

The report came in that because my son wears coats, even when it’s warm outside, he must be covering up physical abuse.  They stated that he watches violent videos and his art work is disturbing.  There is no hiding the fact that my son loves horror.  And as long as he is not threatening others or himself, I am supportive of this interest.  He tells stories, creates videos and loves psychological situations, including SciFi.  He is in middle school and can certainly be awkward at times.  He has been wearing coats throughout his years in school because it makes him feel safe and keeps the germs off he says.  As soon as he comes home he takes it all off and is the typical shorts and tshirt kinda kid.  He is that disgusted by school, that he has certain clothes he won’t even touch once he is home.  He is intelligent and extremely observant.  He is imperfect.  However he is very good at reading others moods.  He understands politics and corruption.  Loves history and gaming.  He is extremely out of the ordinary, yet completely and genuinely himself.

So at the end of the day, I ask those that accuse me of being a bad parent and my son of being a bad kid….are you perfect?  I wonder if every time you see someone or something that looks different than you, acts a little odd and might even be a little sarcastic and bold, you judge them?  You tell yourself there must be something wrong with his home, his friends, his use of screens because at the end of the day, it couldn’t possibly be my classroom, my teaching, me that is causing this imperfection?

I don’t know much about the personal lives of these educators, but I do know this.  They don’t have autism.  And the one’s always looking to find things wrong with my son instead of figuring out how to make things right for him (because isn’t that their job, to work with kids and help them learn in their way) don’t have kids that can’t complete a task without zoning out.  Do they have kids at home that are so sensitive that it is a daily struggle just to get them to wash their hair or face?  Not because their kids, but because it is actually painful?  Do they know what it is like to see their kid want to talk about psychology and the study of seals more than wanting to play baseball?  Or to understand that their child needs extra time because they are slow processors?  That they are not able to answer a question within your time frame?  That they need to think and sometimes they over think, obsess and become stuck on one thing.  And if they did have these kids at home, would they not want their schools to provide these supports?  Supports such as time and patience, peace and quiet, the ability to take time to answer questions and use thought instead of being constantly berated to hurry up.   My son’s disgust for school has nothing to do with his education.  He is interested.  But if you are expected to go to a rave to learn about biology, how would you behave?  How much would you be able to absorb and learn?  Let’s throw you into a pot of chaos and then tell you to finish your assignments, not be irritable or distracted. 

I have always believed that perfection is a disgusting disguise of those who judge others.  Anyone not being genuinely who they are with expectation that others act this way as well should be defined as being perfect and held to their impossible standard.  My son and I will continue to be imperfect, lively freely with no desire to be influenced by your preconceived ideas of what a single mother and autistic son should be.  We are our own and I can assure you that we are more honest and loving towards each other than most families with two parents or siblings.  We do it our way and we will no longer apologize for not fitting in your class room.   

Forgetness

What I don’t remember are the moments people say I must have had with you.

I remember things about you now that the pain of neglect has subsided.

I remember thinking Love but not feeling it.

And when you hurt me. I could just blame myself.

I remember the chill I’d feel when you would leave a room.

Feeling unheard and alone, I knew you were right, I was too sensitive.

And the years passed. Trying to escape myself from this cold chill of loneliness in everything I would do.
Until one day, you were no longer here.
So I forgot.

Forgot the tension. Forgot the hurt. Forgot all the things you reminded me I shouldn’t like about myself.

Now all I remember are the moments of strength and courage. And I am free.

Shelter

Not a star in the sky tonight. Hazy heat penetrates my skin as I stare into the abyss. The clouds hang like curtains keeping out the light of the moon. Stars are hiding to rest until they are ready for their next appearance.

Much like the sky, we are hanging in the clouds. Moments in life keep us still and hidden to protect us in times of turbulence. Recharging us for the next time we will shine.

Life can’t always be good. It’s brutal and challenging especially to those who choose to walk out in it on their own with desires and dreams unprotected. It’s not the positive thoughts that get us through. It’s knowing when to take cover from the storm and where to go that will get you there. Praying, positive vibes or sucking it up doesn’t save you from the wrath of the hurricane. Knowing where and when to take shelter does.

Remember this the next time you go through your own storm and take shelter from the pain.

I Am

a moment in mindfulness

Writing in my head to drown out the exterior noise the world makes. The words pour like the rain just outside my open door allowing the feeling of the cool air to touch my skin. It comforts me to fill my evening in solitude without the need for superficial distractions. Each breath is a moment in time that reminds me I’m alive. My movements become fluid and I am fully immersed in the evening with the rumbling storms it has brought for my entertainment.

Thoughts begin to fade into nothing more than the moment I am in. All fear is gone and I know I am safe. Control no longer is antagonizing as freedom of mind has taken its place. Light is subtle as it’s soft rays bring life to shadows. Empty space feels whole providing room for energy to fill my home. Time has no urgency allowing my mind to be free to think how I feel.

As my eyes grow heavy, sleep is upon me. Falling into a place of unconsciousness temporarily, I can no longer feel the need to carry burden or pain.

Still and calm, I am here right now.

A Love Letter to my Future

I never saw you coming, but somehow I knew you were always there. Watching over me, you see through the trees. You don’t ask how I spend my time, but you want to know. So you spend time, with me.

I’m intrigued taking opportunities to learn where you have come from, where you wish to go and with whom to do it all with. We become students in the subject of our lives. Together we create a slow burn with intention and mindfulness in the process.
Afternoon leisure turns into evening retreats leading to morning rituals.

Our lives intertwine as we share habits, friends and family that begin to fill our branches providing the shade we will need when the burn becomes too hot. The branches support us when the wind blows too strong making our roots dig deeper with each nuance.

Together we weather the storms knowing its unpredictable nature will pass. Your confidence is your strength, mine is courage. We grow wise reminding each other the storms are there to bring us closer in their rage as this is where we find truth. And in that truth we learn to be our exact selves. Stripped of outside influences, comparisons or preconceived ideas passed down to us.

This is my Love story.

My Path

The air is dry as I walk through January’s cold complacency. But the feeling I receive from the steps I take skipping down the steep slope feel light. I spot a glistening in the distance and begin to squint from the sun’s luminous ray. It won’t be long before I get to where I am going although I am uncertain of where that is. Excitement tingles through my veins as I approach the water’s edge. Pleasantly surprised I see the grass is greener and I remove the heavy layer that’s become my armor for the season. It feels like summer as I lean into the first tree I come to. I’m alone in the meadow, like a character in a book I have entered another chapter. This is not where I was just an hour ago. Nothing in my presence is cold, dark or straining on my eyes. I don’t need glasses nor a pen to take notes. Where I stand now requires nothing of me, asks nothing of me. I close my eyes so I may only feel the warmth, but soon open them again to catch how it illuminates the flowing creek in front of me.

This is where I go when the world has become stale. When people have become too loud extinguishing my thoughts. It’s nature’s meditation. It needs nothing but what it offers. Living harmoniously feeding from the life it provides and I get to be a part of it. No one can take away the peace I feel when I walk into nature. Here I am at home with no judgement or constant need for my attention.

A walk in nature preserves the soul, keeps us young and reminds us who we are. Human. None of us are exempt from this label. The only separation between me and you is our thoughts. The flesh suit we carry each day may come in unique shapes and sizes, but it remains to be the same. Our touch with nature is our commonality. The closer we are to it, the closer we become to each other. Sharing the same paths as our footprint proves we were there. How many times will we step in them today, tomorrow or next year? When we are here we are whole and we begin to see things for what they are. My mind is clear until I begin steady up the steep slope preparing me for any uphill battles that await. Training me for those challenges in the shelter of my car, the noise of my phone or the walls of my work. Its cycle remains steady providing me with the reassurance I need when my mind isn’t so kind to my heart. A walk in nature is always just a few steps away. Nothing else comes close.

My Hobbies Are

We’re all guilty of it, putting aside the things we love. Claiming we are too busy to stop and spend time doing the things we enjoy..those things called “hobbies”. They make us nervous on job applications, dating sites and enter our thoughts at night when we struggle to find out who we are, where we went and what we have become. These “things” that used to define us now plague us as we grow older. We reach for admiration from others in bringing up our children, decorating our homes and traveling to new countries.

No doubt in today’s society of corporate empires, government control and social media dominance this is understandable. Who could possibly know what they love, what fills their days, what enters their dreams without an onslaught of preconceived ideas coming at us like missiles in a Space Invaders game. Karen loves dogs, so she is must hate cats. Nick loves cats so he must be “different”. I used to garden, make my son’s baby food by using the herbs from said garden. I remember taking sandwiches to my husband’s band friends on a Sunday afternoon to hear them play Clapton and Phish rifts. But before I go down the “good ol days” rabbit hole, let’s focus on the topic. We forgot who we are without living it through someone we think we rather be.

Whether it’s our hobbies, the people we choose to call friends or the way we get dressed (or not at all in today’s work from home environment) we all have something we can list next to our name. I like to be clever with the beers, bikes and Battlestar Galtactica…an Office reference that no one ever gets. And that’s ok. Because that’s me. That’s who I am. I don’t say those things to attract anyone. I just really like to ride my bike all day, reward myself with a beer and think about Dwight Schrute because he makes me laugh.

The thing is we are attracting the wrong people all the time when we don’t even know what attracts us. If you can’t be yourself then you are going to attract those who like someone else. And at first you won’t notice because you’ll have this shiny new relationship that you can then use to attract more people by showing it off. But once we want to be real with this shiny new person, they don’t know what is happening because you were a lie from the beginning.

Take the time to get to know you. Who cares if others like it or not. If you like to plant beets, go plant beets. It’s not your hobby or even your looks that matter. Who are you when you fight? Do you turn into the Hulk? If so, maybe work on that before sharing a dating profile. Are you judgmental and selfish? Hey, guess what…we all can be. But if you find yourself constantly being put in defensive situations and are sensitive to critism, you may not be ready to go plant beets with someone.

At the end of the day, be yourself, but work on that. Work on the things you love about you, not what someone gives you 500 likes for. (I’m just clicking like 500 times). You are only going to attract those who think you are something you are not only to find yourself alone and heartbroken again and again once they realize you are only mirroring what everyone else is doing and you fall short when being asked to offer more of who you are. This will disappoint a lot of people that thought they signed up for a roll in the hay with a hot beet farmer.

Make a list of the the qualities you want in a partner or maybe it’s a list of qualities you already have in someone. Then read your list and be those things.

Love is not validation. And those behind the constant likes aren’t the ones sharing a family, bed or work space with you. It’s an empty gesture distracting you from putting in the work of those who are supporting and actually loving you enough to tell you when you’re being not so nice. In the long run, you may win the popularity contest but you will come up short each time in the self awareness one and in the end, you have to live with you, no one else is required to.

Be Your Valentine

It’s been some time since I’ve seen the sun. The smile on my face tells another story. Although the afternoon fills the room with grey, cool melancholy. I feel the warmth of the sun every time I see his face. In my mind, it warms my heart, but when he is with me, it warms my soul. To love someone is all things. The shiny, happy people that exist also do so in the dullness of the passing moments. As we sit together, very much apart he knows he is loved. The existence of it is precious, but not weak. Love is strong and doesn’t fall out of. Once you love, that is it. You have it to give, and you are able to receive. In this instance the love is for my son who doesn’t need a definition. He just knows he feels safe when he is with me. The feeling is not questioned, even in times of frustration. And we wake each day knowing we will always have each other. Nothing else in this world is as matter of fact and given as the act of Love.

We don’t own love nor do we own those we love. In fact love is allowing it to be what it wants. Love isn’t controlled, manipulated or demanded. And the only way to love is through your own. We can only love what we love of ourselves. The beauty of the world can only be seen through the eyes of those who believe there is beauty to be seen. And the only way to believe is to believe in yourself. This isn’t through ego or validation. Both are the opposite of love and will continue our society down a path of hate, anger and self righteousness. As long as everyone is agreeing with us or applauding everything we do, we will continue to confuse love with entitlement. It’s when we are brave enough to apologize, forgive and see that others can do the same when we break these destructive patterns.

When we choose to love ourselves, we choose to accept our flaws and to share our confidence. Accepting is not pushing these flaws on to others, but to understand they are there and feel empathy when they impact those around us. They are like the strokes of the brush that are never seen yet still make up the most magnificent art piece. They must exist in order for the beauty to come through the canvas. In times of struggle, we write sad songs; in times of weakness, we set goals for a better future; in times of anger, we look to ourselves to be more kind. It’s these moments that allow us to appreciate love. Heart ache exists because we love others who are also flawed. Heart break happens when we let ourselves down. Both are examples of why love doesn’t always feel good. What it does though is make us feel. It’s up to us what we do with those feelings. Take a deep breathe, remember you love who you are and go find out who that is.

Like the Weather

The beauty of the world doesn’t need your validation. And although it comes and goes with the whisp of the wind or looms over with its threatening sky; we are thankful for it. In every form, we love our world. We know that without it we cannot grow the food or wash away our wounds. We love talking about the weather and we do so in times of heat, drought or snow.

In these times, we may shout at it. Become frustrated with what it is or isn’t gifting us today. There may even be times it takes life from us. But again, we continue to love…our world. As we know it is not the fault of what it brings us. We love it because we are grateful for those glorious days where the sun fills us with joy and the rain feeds our crops.

It decides what it will provide us with today. And we are able to choose what we do with it. We can embrace it in all its magnificent swells, holding on until we finally let go and allow it to sweep us up to the sky where we look down to see what we’ve been missing all these years. The world isn’t always kind to us. It challenges us in ways that make us vulnerable. It’s up to us to embrace that vulnerability and be who we know we are.

We always have a choice. Will you sing in the rain or will you allow it to make you shiver? It doesn’t mind which you choose, it will still be here tomorrow, whether you love it or not.