#’-about how much time I had left’ ‘but it wasn’t on your IEP I signed off on all that’ | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bigxrig · 2 years

Text

Thank you @neondiamond for tagging me to post a snippet! This is for a fic I just started- an abo single parent strangers to lovers. I'm not putting too much pressure to write since I finally finished the fics that have a deadline. I'm treating this one pretty casually but I am still very excited about it.

“I thought I would explain to you my role and what I can do for Grey, does that sound okay?”

Harry was more than okay with that, he didn’t want to keep having to talk about himself. “Yes, that sounds great.”

Harry listened intently as Liam spoke about his role as Grey’s advocate- he would meet with Grey three times a week or more if necessary. He would help communicate with the teachers for Grey when he couldn’t, and he would also make sure everyone was following his IEP. It all sounded good, great even. He was happy there would be someone in the school who could speak up for Grey when he couldn’t himself and when Harry couldn’t be with him constantly. He just hoped it didn’t sound too good to be true.

“Do you have any questions for me?” Liam questioned.

“Yes, I know you read his file and know Grey has selective mutism. How do you plan on communicating with him?”

“Great question,” Liam grinned. “Does he know sign language?” Harry shook his head no. “That’s alright. Since he doesn’t know sign language, I have an assigned iPad with a few aac apps. Do you know what those are?”

Harry felt himself blushing. “Uhm, no.”

“That’s okay,” Liam reassured again. “It’s called augmentive and alternative communication. It’s a different way of communication for people who need it. Here, I’ll pull up the app I would use with Grey.”

Liam went through the app and showed Harry how to use it and how he would help Grey use it as well. “Wow, that’s really helpful. No one has ever told me about those before and I have been to plenty of doctors and speech therapists.”

“I have found that with selective mutism, doctors and other professionals are hellbent on getting the child to speak that they ignore what could really help. That’s why I asked about sign language and acc’s, it wasn’t to make you feel bad for not teaching him. If you didn’t know those were options, how were you supposed to teach Grey?” Liam questioned. “If he works well with the app and it seems like that will be the best thing for him, then I can definitely help you figure out next steps into getting your own device.”

“That would be great, yes, thank you.”

Liam waved him off as if the possibility of an aac wouldn’t drastically improve his son’s life. “Any other questions?”

“Uhm, I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” Liam glanced at the clock on the wall. “We have twenty minutes left for the bell so I’ll go ahead and call for Grey so I can meet him with you and hopefully that will make him more comfortable.”

“Okay, that sounds great.”

Harry was so excited to see Grey, the school days always felt much longer than the weekends since he couldn’t see his son as often. No one got to see the Grey that Harry did, which he thought was a shame. Grey was smart, too smart for his own good Harry thought, and funny. He had a dry sense of humor that left Harry feeling outwitted. Grey’s voice was also his favorite sound in the world- it was soft spoken and in a higher register than Harry’s own timbre. His cadence was typically calm with inflection at the end to make most things sound like a question since Grey was so unsure of himself. Harry made sure to listen intently, so Grey didn’t feel as if he wasn’t being heard. If Harry had to ask Grey to repeat himself, he would typically stay silent and shake his head. Some days Grey didn’t say a single word and others, his voice carried throughout the apartment like music and Harry wouldn’t play any background noise so he could only hear his son’s voice.

Tagging: @uhoh-but-yeah-alright @larrieblr @littleroverlouis @beelou @haztobegood @larryatendoftheday

#don't think au #i actually have a title for this fic though isnt that incredible?#sunday snippet #have a good day everyone!

7 notes · View notes

ladyvader23 · 3 years

Text

Why I Think FanFiction is Important and Should be Normalized

I like to listen to youtube or podcasts while I play video games, usually on informational subjects. The other day I thought, “Maybe there’s some interesting fanfic commentators out there like there are for fiction writers!”

Oh boy. I was wrong.

There were a few one off videos. There’s one wonderful channel that I already knew about that talks about it (ColeyDoesThings). But the majority of videos were so negative. They were usually making fun of fics they considered bad or creepy, as if that represents all fanfic.

On top of that, I’ve met a lot of people both online and in real life who are either afraid to admit that they write fanfic, or they think fanfic is weird because of these popular depictions of fanfic in media.

Before I continue, I think it’s really important to say that it’s totally fine to not want to talk about your writing or reading habits. I had a friend who had to hide writing fanfic because her parents would ground her if she did. I’ve had other friends who just see it as a hobby and they don’t want to draw attention to it, and I’ve had some who hide it because they’re legitimately worried about how people will react. That’s completely valid and I totally support that 100%. Do what makes you happy and safe!

For me, though, I make it a point to be open about the role fanfiction has in my life. Without fanfiction, I wouldn’t have the job I have, or the friends I’ve made. I wouldn’t feel like me without it. For a long time, fanfiction was the only support I had to pursue who I wanted to be.

This is my story.

I have a learning disability. That in itself is a really long story, so to make it short, it made writing really, really difficult. English was consistently my lowest grade throughout my entire childhood and teen years. My English teachers HATED me. I can count...maybe two or three teachers who treated me like my writing had any worth?

And what was worse is that I didn’t even know what I had to explain it to anyone until halfway through high school. By then, any “help” the school system had ever offered me was tailored to issues I didn’t have, and my mother had to explain every single year to my IEP coordinators what help I actually needed.

I started writing fanfic probably when I was in seventh grade? It was hand written and was for Final Fantasy 10. I never published it, but I still remember the plot. My first published fanfic was for InuYasha. It was collaborative with my cousin, and it was reaaaaally badly written. I don’t even remember the title, actually, but it was a wild fic. It was my first real opportunity to experience fandom, to hear anything back from readers about what they thought of my writing. And I learned from that experience. I learned even more as I branched out to other fandoms. And because I had readers, it encouraged me to actually practice by writing more.

While fanfic comments can be negative and unproductive, I’ve had plenty of readers very nicely point out “hey, when someone else starts speaking, that’s a new paragraph.” Literally, I’d NEVER known that before someone said it in a review. I’ve also had people point out good grammar resources that I could use. I had people offer insight on how story structure works and doesn’t work. I learned about giving characters real flaws. I learned about creating conflicts that people actually care about and relate to. Most of these comments weren’t meant to educate, necessarily, but when people reacted a certain way, I wondered, “Why do they feel that way? What did I do right, what did I do wrong? How can I improve?” Then I tried out whatever I learned in a new story or chapter.

And yeah. Sometimes people just don’t jive with a story, or they’re trolls. But you know what? I learned from that too! I learned how to respond or not respond when people just don’t like what you’ve written and there’s nothing you can really do about it. That’s a skill I’ve translated into other parts of my life outside of writing.

Through all of this, from my first fanfic to the ones I write now, I’ve learned so much about my writing and about who I am as a person. I’ve had the opportunity to meet so many cool people from all over the world, which in itself has been a seriously positive, life-changing experience!

But much of my life, I was constantly being told that I couldn’t do it, to not even bother trying. I’d go to school where I had teachers who took one look at my IEP and before they’d even given my writing a chance, treated me like a failure. I once tried to show one of my teachers one of my stories. It was a Twilight fanfic (I was sixteen and it was the height of the craze). I knew my teacher loved Twilight, and I’d seen her make connections with other students over their shared interest. I just wanted to connect with her, too, to show that even though my strength isn’t in what she wanted me to write, I still mattered. I still had a place in her classroom. But I didn’t even finish asking her to read a little before she told me she was “too busy” (and then proceeded to give me an F because I did the entire worksheet, not “just the even number questions.” Like seriously, what?).

It was really conflicting. On one hand, fanfic was so much fun, I had positive and constructive feedback on my stories, and I felt like I’d improved enough to go toe-to-toe with anyone else naturally gifted in writing. On the other hand, I had every authority figure in my life telling me to not bother. When I went to college, I really wasn’t sure I knew what to do. I had dreams to be a writer, but maybe people online were just being nice and I was better off doing something else.

But I signed up to major in English anyway, and to my surprise, my college professors were way more supportive. Feedback was actually constructive. I didn’t have any kind of IEP equivalent attached to my name or record, which...brings up a lot of other concerns I have about the American education system because seriously, why are we judging people’s abilities like that??? But for the first time, I felt like I had a real chance. I graduated in English education, and though I left education because I have a lot of issues with how America runs its education system, I still work in a job where I write their entire policy and procedures. I literally write all day, and when I’m done with work, I write either my fanfiction or my own personal WIP.

If I hadn’t had any of that positive experience with fanfic and the community that surrounds it, I wouldn’t have made the decision to do English as my major in college. I wouldn’t have a job I love. I wouldn’t have the friends I have. I feel like as a whole, I wouldn’t have as much passion as I do for stories...which is a HUGE part of who I am!

I talk openly and positively about fanfic because there are others out there who might be like me. If all they hear about is how dorky or weird or creepy fanfic is, then that might scare them off. And what if fanfic leads them to supportive, wonderful friends? What if it leads them to a career option that makes them really happy? Or, you know, what if they just want to have a lot of fun and fanfic can do that for them (because you can totally just have fun, you don’t HAVE to learn or get anything else from fanfic)?

I think we need to normalize fanfiction. Yes, there are negatives, we shouldn’t not address those, but when it’s positive, let’s talk about that! I think this particular site is really good at that, but I mean in real life. Maybe on other platforms too, I don’t know. I just have a lot of feelings about why fanfic is so important, and I just wanted to share my story to at least explain some of that.

Feel free to add your own experiences, I’d love to hear them from either writers of fanfic or readers!

#writing #fanfic #my story #long post #personal

42 notes · View notes

amarantine-amirite · 4 years

Text

The Seven Gates of Hell, a Seven Little Monsters fan fiction

Summary: Could a stupid ghost story turn out to be true?

According to local lore, there used to be a mental hospital in a remote location halfway between Centerville and Atlantic City, New Jersey. They constructed the hospital there so as to isolate those deemed insane from the rest of the world. Just before what would eventually be “Victory in Japan” day, a fire broke out. Due to its remoteness, firefighters could not reach the hospital in time to save it. Many patients died in the flames. Only a handful of patients managed to escape.

The local search party erected seven gates to trap these few remaining inmates. Only one gate, the first, is visible during the day. The other six can only be seen at night. No one has ever gotten past the fourth gate, but if they passed all seven, they would go straight to Hell.

As the taxi sped away from Whooton School, Renata Wiggum sat there surprised that she successfully snuck out of the window during third period geography and called a taxi.

“So, did you clog a toilet or something?” asked the cab driver.

“No,” Renata said, laughing, “not this time. I have somewhere important that I need to be.”

“So, what was so important that you had to sneak out?”

Renata’s thoughts came to a dead stop. She had to sneak out for two reasons. The first was that her third period geography teacher was in the middle of giving his class hell for cheating on a map making assignment. If she didn’t get out soon, she’d never make it in time.

But the second reached far further: she couldn’t tell anyone that she did ballet. Why? She had Asperger syndrome, and she was on an IEP. In order to stay on the IEP, she had to use a wheelchair. The only reason she took ballet was to stop her legs from atrophying from sitting in the wheelchair all day.

And no one at school could ever find out. If they did, she could at best, lose her IEP; or at worst, get expelled for faking a disability. She pushed it down for so long, that even though someone independent of the school asked her, she couldn’t respond. All she managed to get out was, “My, uh, geography teacher got mad. Kept us all past dismissal time.”

“And why is that?”

Renata felt herself begin to loosen up. “This is kind of funny,” she said, “but we had a map making assignment, and a bunch of kids in my class went to the bookstore, bought an atlas, and turned it in as their own work.”

“So they cheated?”

“Pretty much” she snickered, “he went on this rant about how his son is in college, and in college, they come down extremely hard on cheating”

Before the cab driver could say anything, he slumped forward, his head hitting the horn. The noise made Renata jump. Uh oh, she thought, this isn’t good.

It got worse extremely quickly. Not only did the driver pass out, he very quickly drove off the road.

As the cab veered off the pavement onto the ground, Renata couldn’t help but look out the window. She really should have called 911, or at the very least, AAA, even though the last time she called 911, she and the operator were on two very different sides of the International Date Line.

Renata looked out the window as the cab wound down the hill. She’d kind of been here before, but only during the day. At night, it looked different. The church, the gas station, and the empty fields felt like they were different, like a picture on the internet versus what you see in real life.

The closest they got to civilization was when they drove across the infamous “Black Rd” - the last paved road before the location of the seven gates of hell. The cab blew through the first and second gates, and it came to a stop at the third.

When Renata got out of the cab, she was surprised. The third gate was nothing like what Renata pictured. She half expected a door barricaded by axes that weighed about a thousand pounds. Not only was it not a gate in the woods, there wasn’t even a forest - just an open field. The gate itself turned out to be a small, chain-link gate (but no fence) halfway through a footpath. Driven by curiosity, Renata walked around the gate and followed the footpath. She discovered that it came to a set of stairs. She went down the stairs, and found herself entering a hallway. The hallway had an exit sign that flashed every 1.5 seconds and wall-to-wall carpet on the floor. Given where it was, the carpet was surprisingly dry.

Renata then went up another set of stairs, hoping that they led back outside. They didn’t. Instead, they lead somewhere with a green glow, wallpaper all around, and a dead end where the light was. The hall continued on in the dark.

Almost like she was on autopilot, Renata bolted down the dark corridor until she came to a ladder. When she climbed up the ladder, she found herself in an increasingly decrepit room with exposed wires. Renata side-eyed them hard. The wires appeared to move all on their own. Lights flickered on and off with increasing frequency.

Renata got to the end of the hallway, she turned left. Instantly, the hallway turned into something resembling a steam tunnel with milk crates scattered around, and concrete walls and a round ceiling. The deeper Renata went, the more and more dilapidated the hallway became.

And then, out of nowhere, “Da da da”. Her phone rang. “Hello?”

“Hey, Renata, it’s me.” One answered. “So, I just flew over the area where your cab broke down, and I saw you get out.”

“Yeah, you’re not gonna believe this” Renata said, “I had to sneak out of school to go to my own ballet recital. How embarrassing is that?”

“I think now would be a good time to tell you that your recital was cancelled for some guy’s funeral.”

“Really?” Renata said frustratedly, “Oh, balls!” She kicked the air and pulled her lips inwards from all directions. “How did you know my show was canceled?”

“Because Six showed up, argued with the guy’s next of kin, and now it’s all over Twitter.” One responded.

Renata laughed. Because, why not? In a weird way, it’s actually pretty funny.

Regardless, something else was on her mind. Renata felt smug. She was the first person to get past the fourth gate of the seven gates of hell, and she owned it.

At that moment, One hit some heavy turbulence. She dropped about 200 feet.

#writing #writers #writers on tumblr #fanfiction #seven little monsters #7 little monsters #fanfic writers of tumblr

10 notes · View notes

brodymeetsworld · 4 years

Text

This Christmas.

When I was a little girl, Christmas was my favorite holiday of the year. My grandmother would cook for days in preparation for the entire family( 6 grown children, 10 plus grandchildren) to gather around the table together (or the infamous kids table.) It was one of the only times of the year I was able see my extended family, and I soaked up every second of the time we had together. I have so many memories from learning how to cook with my Grandma, Aunts, and my oldest cousin Erin. To watching football in the living room with everyone including Granddaddy snoozing in “his chair”, to secretly learning how to play the card game “bullshit” (at a very young age I might add lol) with all of the cousins on the back enclosed porch. We would always end our evening the same way, after dinner we would sing the “Happy Birthday” song to Jesus, and because my little brother and I were the babies of the family, we usually got to blow out the candles on the cake. Afterwards, most of us would attend Christmas eve candlelight service at the Monterey Methodist Church. I didn’t get to go to Church very often, so these services were so special and beautiful to me. Those memories are some of the best memories of my childhood.

After my grandparents passed away, the glue that held our extended family together dissolved. Everyone decided to host their own families for the holidays, and no longer wanted the financial or time burden to feed and host twenty-thirty family members. It saddens my soul to never see my aunts, uncles, or cousins anymore. The only way we see each other and communicate now is through social media or phone calls. One big portion of our family even moved half way across the country to Missouri, so the chances of seeing them anytime soon are slim. I truly haven’t felt the magic of Christmas since Christmas in Monterey, and that was 15 years ago.

After I met and married my husband, and when I became a mom, at the age of 26 and again at 27, I thought that magic would suddenly just appear again! Wrong, if anything, Christmas was harder all around. Not only did my two babies want nothing to do with Santa Clause, or the presents my husband and I worked so hard to buy, wrap, put together, but they were determined to destroy all of our decorations, including 3 separate artificial trees. I was completely emotionally and physically drained the first two Christmas’s with our children. I always just threw it off as of well this is life with two under two, or two under three. It never occurred to me, that one of my children may have special needs.

Fast forward to today, this will be my 30th Christmas. This will be my boys 4th and 5th Christmas. This year they have finally left our beautiful tree alone, and most of the presents underneath it as well. They both love to sing Christmas songs, and watch the snow fall on the ground. Our favorite thing to do right now is make Christmas crafts, and go searching for Christmas lights at night in the car. The proof of them growing and learning is obvious this year, and it brings so much joy to my heart. We also started going to church this year. What brought us to church was learning about our oldest son, Brody, diagnosis of Autism Spectrum Disorder over Easter weekend this past year.

You see, my husband and I always knew Brody was special, but we had no idea how special he really was. We were first time parents, and when Bentley came along just 14 months after his brother, we entered survival mode and did our very best. Looking back, I think Brody started showing signs of Autism shortly after his brother came into the world, around 16 months old. I was in denial for a long time, as well as my husband. I can remember looking back and thinking how hard it was in the beginning with both boys, and I never thought of the hard times as Brody being “abnormal”. I always blamed myself for “not being a good enough parent”, and that’s why he is crying all the time. Or “I’m not a good cook, that's why he won’t eat any of the meals I make for him”. And the one I really truly believed, “I guess I don’t talk to him enough and that's why he won’t speak”. All of these things would torment me every day, and all I could do was vent to my husband or his pediatrician. I even took him to see a ENT doctor determined because he had so many ear infections as a baby, maybe he had a hearing problem. It wasn’t until a close family member kept Brody over night that Autism even crossed our radar. Bless her heart too, she tried to tell me, but instead of accepting help, I was angry with her. The first time I reached out for help with our children and my biggest fear was being confirmed.(crazy when I think back, I really was scared of this diagnosis) I was so deep in denial there was nothing she could have done at that time that wouldn't have upset me. It took a toll on our relationship, and I regret the time we lost together over it.

Before we even received Brody’s diagnosis, we enrolled him into the special needs pre school in our county. He qualified right away, and he started right after his third birthday. He went from speaking one word sentences, to three to four word sentences in a year and half time so far, and most importantly he can communicate his needs and wants. His eating has improved, and we have a list of foods he will eat as oppose to 4 things total. Brody will dance with us down the hallway, and sing silly songs for us. He knows how to say please and thank you, I’ve been told by his teachers he is showing empathy to his classmates, and he can finally say “I love you, mommy” or “I love you, daddy” without signing them to us at the same time. All of these things are so bittersweet for us, because there was a time not too long ago we weren’t sure they were even a possibility.

Easter 2019 comes, we receive our sons test results in the mail. If you’ve never read ADOS results before, they can be a bit confusing. My husband and I read the results, googled our sons comparison score of “4″, and thought he was on the severe end of the spectrum. It wasn’t until the next day did we find out we were wrong, Brody is in fact on the mild end of the spectrum. But the night before was rough, we both cried and cried. Why did we cry? I really don't know the answer to that question. When you receive a diagnosis for your child, no matter the diagnosis, a part of you inside just breaks into a million pieces. I can’t speak for my husband on this, but I know for myself, as a mom, I blamed myself for a long time. I spent so much time trying to think back through out my pregnancy with Brody what I could have done wrong. I think back through out his infancy what could have went wrong, “what did I do, what did I do that made him different.” The end of the school year was coming, and we have a yearly IEP meeting with all of Brody’s team members. In that meeting, the school psychologist who tested Brody, told us it was imperative for Brody to constantly be put into small social circles. She recommended t-ball, soccer, church, birthday parties, etc. So that is exactly what we did. Brody wasn’t old enough to enroll into sports in our county yet, so we accepted every single birthday party invite, and focused on finding a Church family.

We had several invites to different churches in our community, but because I myself hadn’t been to church in over 15 years, I was a nervous wreck deciding which church to attend. Going anywhere, by yourself (my husband works A LOT), with two rowdy boys is hard. It’s 10x harder when you have a child with Autism. I knew I had to get over my fears of my sons meltdowns, and do this not only for my sons social interaction sake, but also so our children could learn about our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I always wanted to learn about the Lord when I was growing up, but no body ever wanted to wake up sunday morning to attend a church service with me. In fact, the only times I ever attended church was during Christmas or if I stayed the night with one of my friends whose family attended. Now its my turn, it’s my duty as a mother, and as a daughter of the King, to teach my children his word and of his sacrifice for all of us.

I choose our church family, Redeeming Grace Outreach Worship Center. The boys and I go almost every sunday. Both boys wake up excited to go to church, and really enjoy singing and dancing for the Lord. After a bit of a transitioning period in the beginning, Brody will finally go to the nursery without mama having to be there too. I am finally able to read the bible and worship God and take something away from each and every service, and that truly has been a game changer in our life as a family.

So for my 30th Christmas this year, this will be by far my best Christmas yet. Its been a year of ups and downs, a year of believing in miracles (Ezekiel Rhett), a year of building our faith, and a year of learning acceptance. Our son is exactly who he is supposed to be, and he was made in the eyes of our father. Through him, I’m learning exactly who I’m supposed to be too. God has a purpose for each and everyone of us, and our mighty King makes no mistakes. This Christmas will be magical because we made it that way.

#autismawareness #autismacceptance

3 notes · View notes

earlgreyandadderall-blog · 6 years

Text

What Does ADHD Look Like In Girls? - Things I Wish I Knew Ten Years Ago

Hello world!

I'm back, as promised, and today I'm going to talk about some stuff I wish I knew ten years ago- ADHD symptoms that are common in girls but often get overlooked. Why, you may ask? Because a teacher or parent normally won't notice that a child is struggling unless it's very apparent – if she is extremely hyperactive and disruptive, for example – or if the child admits that they are struggling. That girl in the corner who's always daydreaming, but still gets good grades? Or the one who has a hard time making friends or making relationships work, but otherwise seems "normal" (whatever that means)? She's going to be passed over while her teacher is busy worrying about the boy who can't stay in his seat for more than five minutes. Plus, girls with ADHD are more likely than boys to internalize their struggles, so if you or your child is anything like me, you might not realize something is off until high school or even later, and even when you do, you might be too embarrassed to ask for help.

If anyone besides my mom ever starts reading this blog, one thing that would make me really really happy and feel as if I've made a difference is if even one young woman out there doesn't have to go through the failed relationships, ruined friendships, and lost semesters that I had to go through before she realizes something deeper is going on than just laziness and being emotional. If you're a girl who often feels like she's getting in her own way and suspects there might be something up, but aren't really sure what it might be, here are some often-overlooked ADHD symptoms that you might relate to.

1. Daydreaming/Getting Bored in School

As long as I can remember, I've had a hard time paying attention in class. When I was very young, I would get called out for daydreaming all the time. I worked on my French homework in science class, flipped aimlessly through my agenda while the teacher was talking, and doodled all over ever single desk I've ever sat in. In grade five, I got in trouble for – get this – reading a book during a spelling test. Don't ask me how I thought I was gonna get away with that, but I was sooooooo booooooored and the teacher was taking soooooo loooooong to read these words that I knew how to spell in grade one. That's a big reason why inattentiveness in female students often gets overlooked- girls with ADHD don't usually perform poorly, especially in elementary school. Because I was gifted, my inattentiveness was treated as a quirk rather than a problem. I had a handful of teachers who tried to give me harder work to keep me motivated, but more often than not I was left to entertain myself. It always bothered me that kids who needed extra help got IEPs, the latest learning technologies, and one-on-one time with the teacher, but kids like me, who needed an extra challenge, were neglected

2. Impulsive Spending

The most important thing to keep in mind when analyzing the behaviour of people with ADHD is that our brains don't produce or transmit enough dopamine, which is the feel-good chemical that controls reward-motivated behaviour. Because of that, we seek out anything that will give us a dopamine rush... the only problem is that those behaviours are usually impulsive. You know the saying money can't buy happiness? Yeah, not necessarily true for ADHD brains. At least for a little while after buying something we've managed to convince ourselves we so totally need, we actually do feel really happy, because we're experiencing a dopamine high. My friend recently got me into doing my makeup properly, and I'm embarrassed to admit how much I've spent at Sephora in the last month. I know it's dumb, but I do it anyway. Why? Because ADHD brains have a hard time distinguishing what is urgent from what is important. Once I get it in my head that I need that contour kit right now (because what if a surprise event comes up in the next week?), I can't convince myself otherwise. That sense of urgency releases dopamine, which tells my brain that wasting $60 to look more like the MUAs on Instagram will make me happy. And for an hour or two it does!... Until I look at my bank account.

3. Relationship Problems

So, dopamine rush-producing behaviours are usually impulsive, right? What does that look like when it comes to romantic relationships? Dopamine-seeking brains love anything that's new and novel, and that includes the first phase of a relationship, when you're sooooo in love and can't get enough of each other. Of course, that phase ends, and neurotypical people settle into a more lowkey relationship just fine. ADHD brains? Not so much. If you don't recognize what you're experiencing as a dopamine withdrawal, you may interpret it is a lack of love from your partner, or as a sign that the relationship is getting boring. I tend to fall into the first category, and people like me can become really insecure thinking that our partner doesn't care about us. We become excessively demanding and need dramatic displays of affection all the time, which naturally alienates our partners. If you're somebody who just gets bored, that can result in two unhealthy behaviours: one, moving really quickly from one relationship to the next and never learning how to be alone, and two, cheating. If any or all of these three behaviours are a pattern in your life, you just might have a dopamine shortage, and are unknowingly looking to your partner(s) to fix it.

4. Word Vomit

It's really hard for me to explain my tendency to over-explain every little thing (ha, that's ironic), especially if I'm nervous about it. Have you ever taken seven sentences to say something that could have been said in one? Found yourself repeating the same thing in different words three times? I find I do this the most when I'm apologizing, or trying to explain why I did something that someone else didn't like or understand. You think you're being helpful, but really you're just annoying the other person. Then you realize how annoying you're being, and apologize for being annoying five times, and now they're annoyed with you for apologizing for being annoying... okay, that's when you know it's time to turn your phone off and cool down. On top of excessive explaining, ADHD brains can get a little word vomit-y when we're talking about something we're passionate about. Just ask my mom- get me on the Israeli occupation of Palestine, or, at the moment, information about ADHD, and you won't get me off it. Sometimes we don't really know when to shut up. If you have a tendency to keep talking even when you know nobody is listening anymore, then you might want to keep reading.

5. Road Rage

Everybody road rages once in a while (okay, I'm told that not everyone does, but I don't believe it. Come on, how can you NOT scream at the person in front of you going 5 km under the speed limit?) but I legitimately feel claustrophobic and panicky if I'm on a four-lane highway stuck behind a car in each lane going the same speed and I can't get out to pass them. If the person in front of me is doing something stupid, I could literally run them over I get so frustrated, and not just if I'm already cranky- I yell at someone on the road every single day. I'm told this is “apparently” because of our “inattentiveness” and “inability to sit still”, and not because everyone else on the road is a freaking idiot. I don't know if I believe it, but that's what I'm told, anyway. ADHD brains are also more likely to get into car accidents. I've never been in a major accident while driving, thank God, but I'm only 22, and I've had four minor fender benders that, embarrassingly, didn't involve other cars, but me driving into things in parking lots. Once, I just wasn't looking behind me and backed into a pole. Another time, I thought that texting in the Tim Hortons drive-thru was a good idea. You get the idea.

6. Forgetfulness

Again, everybody forgets things once in a while. But if you're forgetting or misplacing your homework, your car keys, your purse, your work pants (yes, I have actually lost a pair of pants before) every single day, then there might be a problem. Once, I parked my car near campus, spent the day studying in my friends' office, and then got a ride back to my car at the end of the day. My friend Dan was driving up and down the street I told him I had parked on asking me "is that your car? What about that one?" before I realized that I had parked on a different street on the other side of campus. I never thought being a bit scatterbrained was a problem, and if it only happens once in a while, it probably isn't. But all of these symptoms together paint a different picture.

7. Difficulties With Motivation

I never really enjoyed studying, and I guess I was lucky that throughout grade school and high school, I didn't have to do very much of it. It's not that I didn't like learning, it's just that studying for extended periods of time is so boring. Even in my first three years of university, my super strict immigrant parents watched me like a hawk, so I did what I needed to do, as difficult as it was at times. That all changed when my fourth year rolled around and I moved to Ottawa for an exchange. With no one to stand at the foot of my bed and scream at me until I dragged myself out of it, I just... didn't. It wasn't because I didn't want to, it was just that I couldn't bring myself to. Same went for going to class, doing my readings, handing in assignments, showing up for exams... it wasn't pretty. This can also be a symptom of depression, and many people with ADHD, myself included, meet the diagnostic criteria for depression. The difference is that people with depression can't get out of bed because they're depressed; people with ADHD get depressed because they won't get out of bed. We aren't lying in bed all day because our mood is low, but because we struggle with executive functioning - motivation, planning, organizing, and self-managing. Those things happen in the prefrontal cortex, and ours are underdeveloped. It can be hard to distinguish where the cycle begins for you, and before being diagnosed, I thought I had depression for sure, but as soon as my psychiatrist explained how ADHD works to me, it fit like a glove.

8. Starting Projects and Never Finishing Them

This kind of goes hand in hand with lack of motivation, and it's something I've struggled with all my life. It's also one of the very few ADHD symptoms that isn't also a hallmark of something else, like depression or anxiety, so it should be a huge red flag if it's accompanied by some of these other symptoms! Most people tend to procrastinate things they don't want to do, like studying or cleaning their room. A big indicator that you might be dealing with something more than just laziness is when you procrastinate or don't finish even things you actually really want to do. And it's not because you're lazy or don't want to do it, it's because as great as it sounds, you just... can't. If you've ever started a scrapbook and tossed it to the side three days later, tried to start a club on campus but let it fall to the wayside, or created a blog then never actually updated it (I meant to have this posted a solid five days ago, whooooops), then you know what I'm talking about.

9. Being Scatterbrained

You're in the middle of a sentence and you completely lose your train of thought. Alternatively, you'll be halfway through a sentence then think of something more important that you want to say and totally abandon the idea you're halfway through and start talking about the new one instead. You interrupt people a lot, because you feel like you HAVE to say the thought that just popped into your head right now, lest it no longer be relevant if you wait five minutes, or even worse, you forget it again in 30 seconds. You're in the middle of an important text conversation but you open Instagram while you're waiting for them to text back... then half an hour later you're creeping your crush's ex's brother's best friend when you realize you never answered that super important text. You zone out while people are speaking directly to you, which makes you look super rude because it seems like you aren't paying attention. Our inability to focus hard on things can affect our lives in ways you never would have guessed- for example, I am terrible at proofreading and finding typos, and the number of assignments I've handed in with words missing from the middle of sentences is embarrassing. If this sounds like you (and if course, if this happens all day every day rather than once in a blue moon, because everybody get scatterbrained when they're overwhelmed), then you've come to the right place.

10. Being SUPER Enthusiastic... Sometimes

We've already established that ADHD brains can have trouble with motivation and with staying committed to something long-term, but that doesn't capture the entire picture. If you think of depression as basically always being in a low state, ADHD is different in that you sort of swing from highs to lows and back again. Like I mentioned, ADHD brains don't have enough dopamine transmitters, and we kind of get addicted to anything that does produce a dopamine high. So if something does make us happy or excited, we're gonna be the happiest, most excited people on earth. My psychiatrist gave me a situation where an ADHD person might win $5 on a scratch off ticket, but the way they jump up and down all excited makes the people around them think they've won a million dollars. In my case, this often looks like getting really excited about a paper or assignment for a class I'm particularly interested in. I'll take out books from the library and hyper-focus on planning the assignment for about three days... then the whole "starting a project but never finishing it" kicks in, and that's a whole different story...

11. Verbal Aggression (As Opposed to Physical Aggression)

Although I don't mean to generalize or to imply that every single boy or girl is the same, this tends to be a notable difference between girls with ADHD and their male counterparts. Girls are much less likely to be physically violent, but when you piss us off, or trigger our Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria (that's what my next post is going to be about, by the way!)… watch out. You might get a verbal beatdown like you've never experienced before. This is one of the ugliest and most frustrating things about having ADHD for me. I'll tell the people I love that I hate them, that they're ruining my life, that I wish they were never born; I'll pick on the things I know they're sensitive about and call them every curse word in the book... only to regret it five minutes and sheepishly try to convince this deeply wounded person that I didn't actually mean it. It sucks. Big time.

And finally, the one I really wish I knew all this time...

12. Being Diagnosed With Something Else

Throughout this post, I've given a dozen examples of the ways ADHD symptoms can appear like symptoms of depression and anxiety. ADHD in girls is notoriously misdiagnosed, and girls with ADHD are three times as likely as boys to be treated for depression before being properly diagnosed. Beyond that, ADHD can be comorbid with anxiety and depression. I've dealt with anxiety and panic attacks since I was eight, and was formally diagnosed with anxiety at 17. When I was diagnosed with ADHD, I was told that I meet all the diagnostic criteria for depression, but it was likely that treating my ADHD would make it go away. My depression went away within literally one week of starting ADHD medication. My anxiety did not go away, but it has been reduced by about 50%. I realized that about half of the somatic experiences I identified as panic attacks were not triggered by mental anxiety but by sensory overload because, as ADHD brains do, I was perceiving way too much of what was going on around me and getting overwhelmed to the point that I would experience panic attack symptoms- dizziness, shortness of breath, nausea, you know the drill. Another statistic that would have made a difference in my life is that girls with ADHD are 2.7 times more likely to suffer from anorexia nervosa than girls without ADHD. I struggled with anorexia from age 16 to 19, so this was quite a shock to discover three years later. There's definitely some cool brain science behind that why that is, so maybe it'll be the subject of a future post!

If you have any questions about this post, or think that you or a loved one might be dealing with ADHD, do not hesitate to reach out to me with any questions! I also want to stress that this might seem like a lot, and that anyone dealing with all of this crap would stand out from a mile away, but if that was the case, so many of us wouldn’t go undiagnosed until post-secondary. I experienced all twelve of these signs and symptoms, but the only ones that pushed me to see a psychiatrist were relationship problems, difficulty with motivation, and verbal aggression. Most of these things didn’t seem like they were impacting my day-to-day functioning- I get good grades, have a job, and have no trouble making friends. So please don’t get fall into the trap of telling yourself that what you’re going through “isn’t bad enough to be a real problem.” If something feels off, see a doctor, because you deserve to live the best life possible.

That’s all for now folks! Stay tuned for my next post about Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria.

#adhd in girls #adhd #attention deficit hyperactivity #mental health #adderall #earlgreyandadderall #adhd symptoms #girls with adhd #depression #anxiety #eating disorders #anorexia #anorexia nervosa #stress

4K notes · View notes

thedisturbeddad · 3 years

Text

That’s the Tooth

Dear Ms. Johnson,

I wanted to write something for Teacher Appreciation Week:

You have no idea (or probably you do) how much you’ve done for my son Skander. You might remember he had to miss school recently, when I had to take him to the dentist to have a baby tooth pulled. Back home, while his mouth was numb from injections (and he was drooling everywhere), it started feeling like those days he didn’t talk. We’d moved to Springfield when Skander was 4, and even as old as 5, he was still doing a lot of those “da da da” sounds.

But that’s years ago. Early Childhood tested Skander up on College St. when we first moved here, and Skander started kindergarten at Mark Twain with an IEP for his speech disability. It’s been so long ago it gets hard to remember what it was like to not understand him. But, after coming home from the dentist last week, I asked him if he needed anything, and we both started laughing when he said, “Muh nhhh ta ha.” I’m not being dramatic when I say it brought up old trauma with the kid. But then the most amazing thing happened: He started writing on a pad of paper what he wanted to eat!

I know a lot of people like to give awards to teachers: instead of actually finding a way to make teaching a lucrative career. I don’t have the power to do anything about that, and I don’t want to insult you with a meaningless ‘thank you’ either. I’m a veteran; so I know how that feels. I just wanted to say that I don’t know if you’re the best teacher in the world, but I do know that I couldn’t have gotten through the last 2 years without you.

And it’s not just because of Skander’s special needs. It’s Covid, and all the worries that it brought with it. I can remember how crazy it was when I started working from home early this year, (due to the fact my coworkers at Grizzly Industrial wouldn’t wear masks) and I was too worried about my mom’s life to try arguing with them. Even though the pandemic made me feel like I wasn’t in Kansas anymore (and all alone), Skander was at home with me. And you were there too! And we all tried, badly, to figure out how to make Zoom work, and we all tried to make it through the curtain.

I was doing my taxes this last January, hoping Biden would pass the stimulus he promised, and the TurboTax AI kept asking me if I bought supplies for my classrooms.

I couldn’t help thinking, “Why do teachers buy supplies for their classes?!”

I wouldn’t even bring doughnuts to my last job. Though I’ll admit they paid me a lot less than a public school teacher, while I expertly sold their expensive machines. This last February, Grizzly eventually had me listen to a recording of a customer who was urging me to go pick up my son from school at the end of my shift. I tried to tell him I couldn’t leave and had to continue taking his long order, even though that would have made me late. “It’s important” he’d said. That didn’t change the fact that I got a final warning for doing what he told me to (but I know now that he shouldn’t have had to tell me). In any case, I don’t work there anymore, and I’m not sure if I’ll find a job in time to make sure Skander and his brother go to Twain next year. But I wanted you to know that I understand what working for an employer who doesn’t pay you enough feels like.

But let’s get back to teachers appreciation week! And congratulations for getting a whole week, by the way! Must make you feel special. Veterans don’t even get that kind of guilt induced holiday. But society needs teachers more than veterans. Society probably feels that veterans have already been used up, but all you educators are still such juicy little morsels that people can throw into our American economy so we can pretend we’re not subsidizing child care for greedy companies (who pay parents, like me, such low wages). I’m sure Grizzly liked all the free babysitting you gave me. Don’t get me wrong. I know you guys do a lot of things, but let’s be honest about why y’all are considered essential workers.

But, all these things you do helped my son (and my family) make it through these last two years and got Skander to start talking. And, it’s not just you. It’s all of Mark Twain Elementary. It’s Ms. Richardson, his kindergarten teacher, and Mrs.Goodman the art teacher. It’s Mrs. Rhodes and Mrs. Wills who help him with his IEP. And Mr. B, who helps us with his stop sign in the mornings, as I drop Skander off each day. It’s everyone there.

You’ve all helped me communicate with my son and kept this city going through one of the worst pandemics in modern history. You guys are magical for how you adapted to these changes. And yet, magically, nothing ever changes for teachers and their wages. Don’t you just want to say ‘blah blah blah’ at how we all know this old story? I mean, it’s getting old to me.

But now I want to share a little magic of my own with you:

I’m not sure if Skander has told you, but we found out recently that half our family tree lived right here in Springfield. There’s a church cemetery north of town, called Mt. Comfort, which is basically a treasure trove of our DNA. I mean, if you think about all those dead bodies buried under there, which I try not to. But isn’t it amazing that we lived in a house, for over 2 years, that was a fifteen minute drive from that graveyard full of my dad’s ancestors?!

Skander and I don’t have my dad’s last name. My father’s name was Paul Reed, yet I took my mom’s last name of Barlow, because I never knew him growing up. Even though Skander and I have his Y chromosome, we were unaware that we descended from the Reeds in Springfield.

I’ve found a lot of colorful characters in our family tree, but my favorite Springfielder was Sherman Reed, a city firefighter, who was born in 1867. Around the time Billy the Kid was being shot and killed, Sherman would have been a teenager when his family moved to Springfield. I first found the Reeds in the 1900 census records for Greene County, where Sherman’s dad lists himself as a blacksmith, working for the railroads. Sherman’s occupation was fireman. When I read old newspaper stories about him, Sherman talked about how he liked taking care of animals, particularly horses. You see. Back when Sherman was helping to keep everyone in town safe from fire, the people of Springfield weren’t sure about the new fangled fire engine they’d bought, so Sherman made sure that the horse drawn fire wagons were always ready to roll. Skander was the one to point out that the horses would have been scared of all that fire. We figure’d that Sherman must have been good at keeping the animals calm while putting out fires.

Sherman had a couple of kids (one of them my great grandfather), but got divorced before his kids were grown. I found him living in an apartment on College St. by himself when he was middle aged. I don’t know if you’ve ever read Harry Potter. If you have, then you may remember why Dumbledore always sent Harry back to the Dursleys each year.

I find it strange that most people don’t talk more about how cruel it was to send him back to those muggles every summer, but the old wizard explained to Professor McGonagall one time that it was because of an old magic spell his mother had placed on him (which ended up giving him his scar). Dumbledore talked about how older magic (based on blood and bone) were basically keeping Harry safe from He Who Could Not Be Named, and Harry needed to be housed with his kin each year to keep it working. Petunia was the only one Harry had left with his mother’s blood, you see.

You might think I’m weird, but it feels magical that Sherman once lived a few blocks from where Skander was first tested at the Early Development Childhood center on College St., before I even knew my family had lived here a hundred years ago.

I’ve included an article I found about Sherman, right before he died. He was 70 years old and had worked all his life without retiring. He’d never received a pension from Springfield. After all that invaluable service, he literally had nothing to show for it. If you read between the lines of the strangely familiar editorial piece I’ve included, you realize that, at age 70, Sherman was still hanging out at the firehouse like an old dog. Too old to do anything, but no one wanted to take him off the payroll because they knew he would have nothing to live on.

Isn’t that great? Thanks Springfield!

What was this whole letter about? You might be thinking. Well. I don’t have any way of really thanking you. And I’m not going to bring you fattening doughnuts as a gift either (I’m not saying anything to offend; I just know most people added a few pounds over the last couple of years).

But. I just wanted you to know. From experience. That, maybe, someday – some great granddaughter of yours might end up in Springfield, needing help. And when that future descendant of yours does…. If there’s still magic left in Springfield…. Then there’ll be somebody who works for the city (and who doesn’t get paid enough) who will be there to help. Cuz they’re hard workers who care. I know that doesn’t do you any good right now, but if Sherman is any indication: it’s all you’re going to get.

Thanks anyways,

Jeffrey Reed/Barlow

#essential workers #teacher appreciation day #teacher #teacher appreciation week #genealogy #firefighter #pension #pandemic #late talking children #einstein syndrome

0 notes

jess951000 · 7 years

Text

I know I write a lot of these and I know Taylor may never see them, but if she does I want to say thank you for helping me get through all of the things mentioned in this post.

First grade is my earliest memory of being bullied. I was bullied by my teacher. She kept me out of story time and made me clean my desk instead. She kept me from show and tell and made me clean my locker. I have the agenda book where I wrote how sad and out of place I felt...mostly with sad faces. We had to show how we felt each day. I wrote sad faces.

I was home schooled for second grade and felt left out because my brother and sister went to school everyday. It was tough. I was diagnosed with ADD and Bipolar Disorder when I was 5. Mild Retardation Disorder when I was 6 or 7. I learned how to read in kindergarten but was set back in first grade due to how I was treated and relearned when I was being homeschooled. I have a just below average IQ. My deficits are with math and problem solving. I'm 22 years old now but when I was 18 I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety and told my bipolar was gone.

In third grade I was put in a school for special needs kids. They didn't teach me anything so I was put back in mainstream school and kept in third grade. I made friends at the special needs school. A nonverbal girl and an autistic boy. In mainstream I didn't have many friends. I made a friend with a girl who was really screwed up. She thought it would be okay to hit my sister over the head with a 2×4 piece of wood. I never saw her again after that. That was in 3rd grade. In 4th grade I was friends with a girl who was a bad influence again she tried to glue the doors to lockers together and then when I proved to be a goodie two shoes she dropped me as a friend.

In 5th grade is where the real problems started. I was alone. I felt helpless. It was my first day of middle school and 2 girls who happened to be sisters asked if I wanted to be their friend. I said yes. I was desperate for friends. They were goth. Wore all black and one of them had piercings already. I was invited to their house. We hung out for about 3 months. They had other friends and whatever that didn't like me too much. They walk up to me in one of the classes the three of us shared together after talking to their friends and said I was too weird and I couldn't hang around them anymore then walked away. I pretended I was okay when I was hurting inside. I was alone the rest of the year waiting for summer to come.

6th grade..it was time to sign up for the school musical. I decided to do it since my sister was doing it too. First day of rehearsal a girl walks up to me and starts talking as if we are already best friends. At first I paid her no attention because I thought she was talking to one of the many other people around me but I soon realized no one was looking at her and she was looking at me. I asked her if she was talking to me. She said yes who else? I was shocked and excited. My self esteem by this point was so low that when I walked down the hallway I would literally look at the floor. I didn't want to see the people who made fun of me. I would keep walking and not look up. This girl pulled me out of my slump for a little while. She introduced me to a few people who I became friends with also. We hung out together all the time. We went to eachotjers houses. I felt that I finally fit in somewhere.

8th grade has a bit of a backstory that starts in 7th grade. So here it goes. .In seventh grade people talked about this horrible teacher. She was so mean and horrible that anyone who had her class was doomed to a year of torment. I thought being a good kid and all that it was no big deal. She was a special education teacher which I didn't know at the time. In computer class she ended up subbing because that was her free period and out teacher had an emergency or something. She screamed at me for being off task when I was not off task. I was so speechless another student had to tell her that I was on task. She singled me out for no good reason. As soon as I got off the bus to go home I started balling my eyes out. I was always a good kid to avoid that kind of confrontation. Remember earlier I was too much of a goody two shoes. I still was by this point. I kept my head down and got through the day. I begged my mom not to let me have this teacher. I cried and when I finally got my 8tb grade schedule I was so excited. I didn't have her. Then my mom had to throw a fit about me not having a special education classes. The teachers said they didn't think I needed it that year. I was doing just fine on my own. I never had to ask for help. I was Good. My mom Insisted. I got my new schedule and of course that teacher was on it. I go to school thinking it can't be too bad. She won't be that mean all the time. It was just a misunderstanding. I was so wrong it's not even funny. First day of class when your supposed to hand in certain forms and things. My mom forgot to sign mine and I got screamed at for it. It was not in my control. Then I get screamed at again for taking too long on my quiz to see how much I remember from last year. It was math so that's why it took so long. It was in my IEP which is documentation stating special accommodations for special needs students that I was allowed to just walk out of class to use the restroom and that I was allowed to bring my computer to class to take notes. She never read it. She screamed at me for both. My mom then sent a note stating she isn't allowed to scream at me because i was going home early for hyperventilating. She threw it in the trash and screamed at me for giving her fake notes. My mom then had my psychiatrist write a note. She did the same thing. She then got told by other parents that this teacher was deliberately bullying me and that they recommend pulling me out of the school I was in. So she did. I was put in online school for 2 years. It was twice as hard and I was not a self motivator so it was hard on my mom too.

8th grade also my mom got told by my best friends mom that she was moving her daughter to a different school because I was too different to be her friend. Her exact words were "My daughter needs better friends and yours isn't a part of that" when she went to that new school she made new friends and didn't want to hang out as often and eventually broke off contact with me. I still had my 2 other friends but she was my closest friend.

10th grade I go back to regular school and was put in a lunch with 7th and 8th graders who were moved to our school because the elementary school closed down. I went to the guidance counselor and asked to be moved to the lunch where my friends were. She did me a favor and let me be transferred. We had A B C and D lunch. I was moved from C to D lunch. My "friends" put their bags on the seat, had other people sit by them, etc etc. To keep me from sitting near them. I started running to lunch to be able to sit by them. It worked. The next red flag that they weren't my friends anymore but pretending to be was when I invited everyone to a cook out in 11th grade and they all said they would come and so I set everything up on the day and was waiting. 5 minutes til the time I said everyone cancelled. "Oh I have period cramps" "Oh I can't make it my mom has a thing" that sort of thing. They lied to me and didn't come. I was so upset. I sat at the table surrounded by the food and snacks and cried. One of those friends wanted me to help plan her birthday party but I wasn't allowed to be there. I was allowed to plan it but I wasn't allowed to come. That was low.

For senior prom one of my friends was talking a few weeks before about getting a limo. A week before she told me there was no limo and we would meet at prom. I get there and meet with them. Prom was on a boat. They had tables set up some for people and some just there with table cloths. We chose a table that sat only 4 people. Both my friends had dates but I did not. I suggested pushing tables together. There was an unoccupied table next me. Their response was oh no we can't there might be someone sitting there. There was no silverware. No purses. No bags. No indication that anyone could sit there. I just said ok fine and pulled up an empty chair to the end and their table. Later that night my zipper broke on my dress. I asked for one of my friends to find the t4acher who we knew to have Bobby pins and clips for this kind of disaster because if I stood up my everything would be showing. They threw a fit "why can't you do it yourself" "why don't you go sit with your sister" "why did you come without a date" my dress was falling apart...my sister was sitting with her friends doing her thing...i didn't think having a boyfriend was that important...unlike my one friend whose mom set her up with a total stranger.....hmmmm....i Then later found out both my friends came in a limo....imagine that there was a limo....i confronted them about it and was told it was a surprise...nothing personal. I called bs because she had been talking about it for weeks...i was alone the rest of the year. We graduated...i went to the local community college for a year and a half. One of my former friends was there and we talked some but after that we haven't. I didn't have any friends. After college because it didn't work out. I flunked out because of the math. I spent too much time on it only to fail math and a few other classes. I spent 2 years in bedroom in my parents house watching tv and wondering where I belonged in life.

My mom then when I turned 22 convinced me to join this special needs bowling group. I met a lot of people there and became friends with them. Everyone had different abilities and deficits and I liked this group because it focused on the abilities. My whole life everyone focused on what needed to be fixed or worked on with me and I finally found people that cared about what I could do. Then one day that all changed when one of the girls who I'm not blaming because she gets facts twisted in her mind and they get turned negative told her mom that I called her a lesbian. I did not say anything like that to her but her mom believed her. I had one other girl who was there back up what I said. This girls mom started saying that I was doing all these horrible things. She said I was saying mean things about her daughter and some other girls. She got a bunch of other parents behind her including a leader of another group I joined after the bowling group. I was shunned from the group. I stopped being invited to events. I was blocked by most of the people. The friend that backed me up became and still is my only friend. She almost got kicked out of the group herself just for backing my story. I was shunned. I lost a bunch of friends.

The adults in my life have been the ones who did the most harm to my wellbeing. After that last incident I decided not to care what others thought anymore because I know the truth. I know who I am. I give Taylor swift most of the credit for helping me through all of this crap because right after my last bout of bullying she came out with look what you made me do and it made my life so much happier. It helped me to move on and to be better. I still go to bowling. I still see these people but I'm not angry anymore. I am bashing their hate with total kindness and so far I've been getting snotty looks from the moms but no one had said or done anything. I'm still talking to my friends even though I can't hang out at their houses and be as close as we were their moms can't say anything without looking bad. As long as I am nice and kind...which I am anyway...there is nothing they can do. I'm using Selena Gomez quote "kill em with kindness" and Taylor swift "shake it off" "look what you made me do" I am thriving and there isn't a person out there that can bring me down!

1 note · View note

autistic-bee-blog · 7 years

Text

I gave a presentation on Autism about a year ago, and the comparison I used to explain just what Autistic people have to deal with in society was left-handedness: It is a natural variation in completing tasks or writing that most people don't think very much about, but usually they know someone who is left-handed (or perhaps they are left-handed themselves). There are often left-handed people in their work, or at their school, but they never bother to observe their handwriting or which hand they use. People have been, and still are, ridiculed or even physically punished for using their left hand. It has been referred to as a "sign of the devil", improper, and lazy. People have been (and still are, in some places) trained out of using their left hand, either through verbal rebukes, restraint, or physical punishment. If left-handed people are not outright punished or trained to use their right hand, over the years, they learn to use their right hand instead of their left. Because after years of ridicule, disdain, bullying, and shaming, you are forced to change an intrinsic part of yourself to avoid being seen (to avoid being hurt). I told the people viewing the presentation that this is what Autistic people still go through, only on a far more massive and systematic scale. Autistic people are murdered for being Autistic, disowned or denied basic care just because their brain works differently. Parents murder their Autistic children and the media sympathizes with the parents (because the Autistic child was violent, or the parent just "didn't know how to deal with it", or the child took up so much of their time and money and resources). Autistic people are subjected to electric shocks, bleach enemas, beatings, verbal and psychological abuse, neglect, and other forms of physical punishment just to try and "cure" them. Autistic people are ridiculed every single day, they get called retarded, or defective, or get told that they are burdens to their parents or caretakers, or get pushed or hit or spat on or otherwise assaulted by their peers in school and the people that are supposed to stop those things from happening turn around and say "it's because you have a communication deficit, you misinterpreted what happened to you." Autistic people are denied accommodations for their disability, even when to do so is in direct violation of IDEA and the ADA, and is punishable by law. Autistic people have hate groups disguised as advocacy networks, Autism Speaks funneled their money into advertising and staff salaries and towards cure research (and the search for a prenatal test for Autism) rather than provide resources for occupational therapy, or weighted blankets or stim toys, or provide spaces for Autistic people to share their experiences with families and other Autistic people. Instead, it just funded commercials that promoted fear, capitalized on non-Autistic parents' stories of what a devastating effect their child's Autism had on their family, while ignoring any Autistic person's rebuttal. The people who viewed this presentation were so horrified that I heard them talking several minutes after I had finished, shaking their heads about how awful the things I had described were, that they could never support anything like this. To this day, when I tell people all of this, the best of them will say something like "I had no idea, how is it possible that this can go on right under our noses with no talk of it happening?" The other ones will say that this is surely a gross exaggeration, only the worst 1% of therapists could be abusive, that it just isn't possible for people to defy the law with accommodations in the way I described. Sometimes they'll say I am the hateful one, the real person promoting fear-mongering in the name of identity politics or political correctness. And I realized, after those conversations, there is no way those people will ever understand how commonplace these things really are. I was one of those children who was screamed at, denied accommodations and mocked for my behavior by teachers, I was one of those children sent outside (and I mean, I was literally sent outside, into humid Florida weather, ranging above 90° on most days) by my teacher because she told me "Get out, go sit outside, I can't deal with you today." I was one of those children who was slapped, hit, kicked, who had my fingers slammed in doors and windows, who was spat on, who had students make a game out of avoiding the door when I touched it or tried to hold it open. I was one of those students who went for help with the teachers, about accommodations or physical bullying, only to be told "I had a great difficulty in interpreting social interaction, and was I sure I wasn't misinterpreting it?" Only when that happened, it wasn't called gaslighting, it was just them trying to get the whole story. I had two teachers, and one private Catholic school, refuse to follow my IEP on the grounds that "all children are like this, we don't provide special treatment." This is illegal, but no teacher was ever brought to justice, because the two teachers both had tenure, and the Catholic school was never held responsible either. Instead, I was transferred from class to class, from school to school. In my childhood, I went to 11 different schools, and it was rarely simply because my family was military and moved often. I have had several therapists and psychiatrists suggest the possibility of PTSD to me, at which I always balked, because I have lived this way for so long that sometimes it gets really hard to tell if what happened to me was really as horrible as it sounds, or if I really am just exaggerating. I still wake up in the middle of the night, or sit up until 3 AM, debating myself over and over again. "Can I really blame them for doing what they did? They just didn't know how to react to me. I WAS a difficult child to deal with...they were just uneducated, they didn't know...somehow, it was all punishment for the person I am now...it might not have been my fault, but I deserved it..." I am one of those people, I am Autistic, I am people that you probably know, or have met at some point in your life. This isn't something Autistic people make up, this did not just snap into existence. My experience is one that happens, and gets swept under the rug over and over again. Just because I might not "seem" Autistic, or just because I am so "articulate", do not dismiss my experiences. Like I said: if you beat and ridicule and demonize someone enough times for using their left hand, you can be sure that they'll struggle and scribble with their right hand any day rather than risk the repercussions of fine cursive with their left.

#this is a bit of a personal post #i have been having a difficult time lately #i apologize for the length too lol

22 notes · View notes

sosmomlife · 4 years

Text

Hudson’s Journey

Hey all!!! It’s Andrea here. I’m sure many of you are trying to figure out how to navigate this crazy change in our world. Some of you have children at home and are trying to juggle “home schooling” amongst other things, like your own work, a new baby, a partner who has been laid off, etc. This week our school board officially rolled out distance learning so this meant my husband Andy and I were going to implement more structure to the day. I’m a teacher and he is off of work right now so this should be easy, right? 100% WRONG!!!! Here’s a little story of our oldest who has been through a lot and battles with his emotions and abilities every day of his life.

That cutie (ya ya I may be biased) in the picture above is Hudson. He will be 8 in June. Just before he turned 4 I took him to watch a baseball game and as we were walking beside 3rd base (outside of the diamond) a ball came hurdling across the field, hit the top of the fence and smacked Hudson right in the head. He dropped so fast and I was terrified. I will never forget the "clunk" sound; like a coconut cracking open. I was terrified but he was conscious and settled down after about 10 minutes. He was very clingy so we called EMS just to check him over and make sure he was ok. They came, did a quick assessment and left it up to me to decide if I wanted him to go to the hospital. By that point he was acting himself so I figured I would just monitor him and if anything got worse I would take him to the ER. I did question why he didn't have a goose egg (I always heard that no goose egg could be a bad sign, but the EMS responded with "ya that's weird." They pretty much made me feel like I wasted their time so off I sent them not wanting to be “that crazy mom.” As the day progressed Hudson went from playing hard outside to wanting to lie down every couple of hours. I thought it was the heat or that he didn't sleep great the night before. That night I had him sleep with me and he was very restless. He kept waking up and saying that his head hurt a lot where he got hit but then he would go back to sleep. The next morning he seemed pretty good other than not wanting breakfast (which isn't normal) because his tummy hurt (which is normal for my dairy sensitive boy). He went to his first t-ball game (I know I know...what were we thinking taking him to play baseball) in the morning but came home and crashed hard on the couch. He was off and on all day and we questioned taking him to the ER but then he would get up and play like he was totally ok. At 6 pm after noticing his entire left side of his head was swollen I decided to call Telehealth to get their opinion and they said to take him to the ER immediately. They always say that so I still wasn't too worried. Hudson slept the whole car ride to Stratford General and when we arrived he was happy and hyper. The waiting room was so busy that I contemplated leaving. Hudson was putting on a show for all the other "patients" Re-enacting how he got hit in the head by the ball. I definitely thought we would be sent home because he seemed totally fine.

We got called into a room before a lot of people who arrived before us. We didn't wait long before the doctor came in to do an assessment. Right away the doctor felt the swelling and said it's a boggy hematoma meaning he has a break in his skull. I was shocked and terrified but the doctor assured me that most of the time its small and no big deal. It will heal on its own she said. She sent him for a CT scan and I was told I could be in the room to watch the images of his little skull and brain..or as Hudson says his "big" brain. The first images started coming up and all of a sudden I was asked if I wanted water and taken out of the room. I instantly knew something was wrong but tried to wait calmly for Hudson to come out. They had previously told me it would be about an hour before the radiologist looked over the scans but within 5 minutes the doctor came to see us. The scans showed a significant break in his skull and a small bleed on the outside of his skull. I started imagining the worst and stupid scenes from Grey’s Anatomy started rushing through my head. I was so scared and upset but I knew I had to calm down so I could call Andy and give him the news. The neuro team in London was going over the scans and transportation was being arranged to take us to Victoria University Hospital in London. Hudson in all of this was still happy and entertaining anyone who came to see him. Before we left I was assured that Hudson would be fine because we made it past the crucial first 24 hours. We spent 48 hrs in London for observation and had the greatest healthcare team supporting us throughout the entire ordeal. The next month we were on high alert and Hudson had a couple of seizures (which is common after a concussion). We spent the next year going for check ups every few months with the Neurologist in London. Everything went great so Hudson was released at the one year mark. We thought we were in the clear, but don't let that fool you, the paranoia of our kids getting hit in the head or falling and hitting their head is extremely high to this day. Ugh!

Fast forward to a year and a half ago when Hudson started grade 1. Since the "accident" Hudson's behaviour had definitely changed, he could barely remember anything that happened the day before, let alone a week before. He was super fidgety, always touching his face and wiggling around on chairs. We would ask him to do 3 things and he would forget everything we asked him after he walked away. We were often annoyed and frustrated and we were struggling with managing his "lazy-like" behaviour. I knew there was something else up but people kept assuring me he was acting like a “typical” boy.

After a couple of months in class I had a meeting with Hudson's teacher to discuss his progress and behaviour. I mentioned the head injury he had sustained and the thought of possible ADHD and she thought it might be a good idea to have him psychologically assessed. We went through the lengthy process of a psychological educational assessment and received a thorough analysis of him. Everything the psychologist explained made so much sense: low executive functioning skills, low average working memory, low average processing speed, extremely low visual perception and fine motor coordination, broadly average academic skills, high average oral skills and finally anxiety due to the need he feels to please everybody. It was a huge eye opener for Andy, but wasn't as surprising to me, being in the educational world has exposed me to a number of students with these exceptionalities. It did however make me feel like an ass for thinking my child was not listening and being a lazy jerk whenever I asked him to do a list of things (ie. get ready for school).

Since Hudson was 6 at the time of the assessment the psychologist would only provide a provisional diagnosis of ADHD as his brain is still developing as well as due to the uncertainty of the impact he might have from the brain injury. We spoke to a neurological psychologist about doing a neurological assessment but he said at Hudson's age the results and recommendations would be the same as his previous assessment so to just wait until his next assessment at 10 when he can better communicate his thoughts and feelings.

With the current assessment report we received we were able to get an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) created for Hudson at his school. This IEP will stay with him throughout his educational journey as it is needed. The staff at Hudson's school have been so amazingly supportive. They have been following his psych ed assessment recommendations which includes things like, more breaks, strategic seating (close proximity to teacher and good choice of friends), more time to complete work, chunking of work, more oral testing and no repetitive tasks if he already shows he can do something.

I wish I could say that knowing his limitations has made us better at parenting him but in all honesty it hasn't. Sure we check ourselves more but the frustration and annoyance is still there. Some days more than others. I have actually just put a reminder in my phone for the start of each month to re-read Hudsons psych ed assessment and Occupational Therapist report. Just reading it again to write this blog post reminded me of so many things I had forgotten and was treating Hudson unfairly with: "you just have to do 20 min of work...why can't you just do 20 min and then be done....if you spent all the time that you have been sulking typing you would be done by now...." and so on and so on. Sigh. It's a learning process for all of us and I just need to keep telling myself the way I tell him that practicing what is hard is the only way it will get easier. So I will practice my patience as I help him practice working through his challenges and in between we'll go play some sports because we're friggin’ awesome at that.

~Andrea

#adhd #braininjury #parenting #boymom #momofboys

0 notes

mavwren · 7 years

Text

Post it Forward Week Three

Okay so I planned on doing this earlier in the week, but this is one of the more tricky prompts for me (Magi) to tackle because I’ve found that people who talk a lot about ‘their mental illnesses’ can tend to be assholes, and that in my case it’s mostly about depression and neglect so it can be kind of a downer. I personally don’t like making people feel bad, so the idea of this possibly reaching a lot of people was what made me take so long to do it, but hey here it goes...

So as I think I’ve off-handily mentioned before, I suffer from ADHD inattentive and inherited psychotic depression, as well as anxiety and panic and possibly some form of learning disorder but I haven’t been tested so I’m not gonna say anything for certain. Also an abusive and over achieving younger sister. Anyway this all went undiagnosed and ignored until I was eleven, which may surprise some people (especially when I was very vocal about seeing things that weren’t there ‘cause that isn’t normal in any respect) so let me explain.

In elementary school it was very obvious that I had some kind of attention problem as I was scolded and given the exact same talk every year about how I need to try harder or I was going to become a failure and a disappointment. By both my parents, and my teachers. Yeah, the teachers said that to me. Every year. They’d pull me out into the hall during class work time or whatever and when I went back into the room I’d be in tears. And with the area I lived in I had the same classmates until I graduated highschool (except for the three years that I lived in Hawaii o’course), so they quickly made sure that no one else in our class ever saw them with me. This didn’t help. Because I now knew for sure that no one liked or believed I was worth their time. So I was forever labeled as ‘that weird quiet girl who never does her work’. Which honestly wasn’t even the worst thing, seeing as how I’m kinda a better person than most of them post highschool, which I know sounds like I’m the asshole, but anyone who graduated with me remembers the guy who got booed at graduation practice (and at the actual graduation).

No the worst thing about my time in elementary, (and my first year of middle school) was the fact that I was punished from a very visible disability. One of these days I’ll tell the story about my desk, but this post is already going to be pretty long as it is so I’ll just use the classic examples instead. Along with the annual talk about what a disappointment I was, there were also the vary obvious ‘watching you specifically because you’re a problem’ glares from across the room, taking away recess time, scolding me in front of the class for doodling during notes, banning me from drawing all together, and then making sure I wasn’t drawing by checking over my shoulder, calling me out for not handing in my homework- again directly in front of the other students, and just the general ‘not going to let you out of my sight because I don’t trust you at all’.

You’d think my parents would be a little more curious about all of that, but nope. They went and did the same thing as the teachers and brushed it off as a greedy child wanting attention, with a dash of ‘she’s just an idiot’ tossed in until halfway through 6th grade. So they went ahead and punished me too, not letting me play outside with our neighbors, putting me in places where I couldn’t see the TV and making me do my homework until dinner, and then instructing my daycare (it’s a military town so they do a before and after school program) to not let me do anything until they had checked all of my work. So now the kids there (that were from schools all over town) also knew not to play with me.

Now despite the way my mother likes to tell this story where she’s the one that notices the problem, that’s just not how it happened. I freaked out the teachers, my school counselor, and the school’s nurse in Hawaii. That’s how it happened. The counselor had me fill out a form and established that there was clearly a problem, so my mom took me to see a therapist and I was officially tested where it was established that I had ADHD inattentive, and depression. However looking back, those results were a little skewed because I didn’t know that I had seen hallucinations, thanks to my parents saying that they were just an overactive imagination. Anyway, that was the start of my treatment for my variety of issues. With the results we were able to also get testing done at Tripler, which was where I then got my medications from for my ADHD.

So fast forward 2 years and for whatever reason we stop seeing my therapist, but there’s no real drama.

Fast forward another year and well, we’re back in NC. And my highschool in Hawaii takes a whole fucking school year to fax my 504 plan to my new highschool. I had to text my friend in Hawaii to go ask the people in the office what was taking so long. I’m not even 100% sure it got there, because the school had me redo all of my testing again. I was then switched from 504 to IEP, which is basically a special ed program, but with a wider reach and honestly much more fun.

Now this is when me and my mom agree that my medications are doing more harm than good to me, and my psych guy goes ‘nah it’s supposed to do that’ and we were just like ‘nah fuck you’ and left that clinic, so went without meds or therapy until I started college. Not because there was no where else to go or we thought I was cured or something, it just didn’t seem to be very helpful anymore. Plus they assigned me to a child therapist (like a small child therapist) and I was just like ‘bitch I am not a five year old stop talking to me like I am’

So how did a mentally unstable teenager make it through highschool in one piece? By being an arts nerd. No stay with me- I was a visual art kid so I was in the visual arts homeroom (with a teacher who had no connection to art in any form but was coincidentally the lady in charge of students with disabilities and generally just a bad ass bitch) but I was also a band geek. I actually would sign up for art classes to keep my homeroom, then switch them to band classes like only a few days in. Because I hate art classes

I’ll make a post later about the actual benefits of band- and marching band in particular but it’s kinda off topic for this one

Anyway I made it through highschool, was super hyped and ready for whatever laid ahead-

then I started community college

and watched my world slowly crumble to bits around me because I couldn’t do anything. I had never felt that low. Which is really saying something. So I begged my mom to look for a new therapy place (even asked if I could have a service dog at one point and was told I was over exaggerating) and it took her two months to actually humor me. But you bet when I said one positive thing about birth control she set up an appointment for me in less than a week. Thanks stereotypes about women’s hormones. Guess what though! It wasn’t hormones.

I ended up with a social worker as my therapist, and I can say with complete certainty that there is a definite difference when it comes to the age that you receive treatment because after you turn 18 it isn’t about what your parents want, it’s what you want.

I am now receiving medication from the most qualified person in the district, attend therapy regularly and am just in such a better state of being than I was before.

My doctor often asks me if I feel happy like I used to, but because of my situation, I wasn’t ever not effected by my depression. But now, I know what it’s like to live my life without worrying about the world and the people around me like I used to. I’ve learned that it’s okay to be proud of yourself, it’s okay to be honest with people, it’s okay to care about your own life. It’s okay. I’m okay.

And I guess that’s my story about my mental health. If you have any questions for me, or whatever, our ask box is open. Yellow knows a lot about psych stuff, and her mom was the one that hooked me up with the recommendation on my current clinic. Or if you’d like just me to see it, or just want someone to talk to, I have a side/art blog that you’re free to message. ( @punkrockstrawberry )

0 notes

pipblogs-blog · 7 years

Text

In the past, I have not pushed my son to play sports, which is unusual to my upbringing. I started playing sports ever since I was four years old. I played multiple kinds of sports as well, but mainly played baseball. So, when my son was four years old I started him into T-ball.

For so many reasons T-ball failed for my son and was most likely the key to his leading discouragement. Around that age, he was still dealing with speech therapy, so taking instructions was very hard and overwhelming for him. As mentioned in previous blogs, he has receptive/expressive language disorder, which is having the difficulty of following directions and expressing to others. At this point of speech therapy, we were still learning what exactly he was struggling with. He would get overwhelmed easily, especially when I tried to help. It makes sense that he had to get frustrated with the closest person to him, but I always wondered if I could of handled it better. I have held guilt from that maybe I played a part in his discouragement from sports, but deep down I know I was only trying to help.

Another part of his difficulties, he is ambidextrous. We often wondered if he was just confused and was still learning what hand he preferred more, but he is still a hand and foot switcher. So, this became very frustrating to him, because I bought him a right handers glove, but sometimes he wanted to switch hands he wanted the glove on. Some of our disagreements were that he didn’t want to wear it on the left hand…or wear it at all.

Plus, it was only T-ball. The children were all behind on learning the basic fundamentals of playing baseball. In fact, whenever the opposite team hit the ball the whole team would run after it and tackle each other for the ball. It was cute, but kind of disappointing. The other teams understood that they had positions and what each position’s responsibilities were. Unfortunately we were the only team that had kids play like football players. So, my son followed the other kids in confusion, and cried whenever the other kids beat him to the ball. Plus, it was way too boring for him. Too much standing around, nothing to keep him stimulated. He was way too active and impatient for this type of thing.

Quite honestly, it just wasn’t his sport. He didn’t want to finish out the season, but he went anyways. I was a baseball player, and my son honestly just isn’t and that’s okay with me. I just wish he stuck it out, because he had a mean hit on him. It just didn’t suit his liking.

After T-ball, I tried suggesting that he play other sports. I tried suggesting basketball and soccer, but he wouldn’t do it. I don’t want to force him to do something that he’s not comfortable doing. Over the past few years, my son’s self esteem and confidence has been at a heart wrenching low. School has taken a responsibility of that between the speech therapy, low grades, and his peers constantly challenging him. Mostly his father has constantly failed him as well. How could this child feel like he could achieve anything or be great in anything, when his school fails him, his peers are mean to him and his very own father treats him as if he is last place in his life. We have been through some heartbreaking years. Ones that brings tears to my eyes as I write about this. All I could do was constantly love him and be the support that he needed ever so much. I kept him afloat, encouraged him daily and drove him to learn his worth. Sports wasn’t going to make that situation any better.

However, this child is strong, resilient and brave. Things started to change last year. I broke my ankle last year in January, and unfortunately I was down for about four months. We had to stay with my father while I was unable to care for my son or even myself. During that same time, he finally had a teacher that said enough is enough – this child needs help. Even though, there were only a few months left in the school year, we re-opened his IEP. I was grateful that he was able to start this school year already in it. I’m not sure if it was due to the IEP, needing to be strong when I was down or that my dad was our second support system while I was down, but something changed in my son this school year. The first day of school, he was confident and answering questions in front of the classroom. He changed to be much more positive, strong and happier, which was a blessing to see.

When, we lost our home and had to move next to my dad’s house over the fall, I tried to occupy my son’s mind. I knew he had missed playing with his neighborhood friends in the backyard, so I tried to play the role in place of that. So, I found some small orange cones and set them up to use them as goals. I told my son, “How about we play soccer?”. He looked at me, “Yea, okay”. Ever since that day, we had been playing soccer in the backyard. He has actually taken a likening to the sport. In which, this was quite different for him. My dad and brothers decided to join in on the fun. So, Monday through Wednesday depending on the weather, we would all go out and play a full game of soccer..or two. This built my son’s confidence in the sport and helped him progress his skills. This was a whole new thing for my son. He actually enjoyed the sport.

I knew that this was the perfect time to start him on a team. He has actually taken an interest in something, so I want to build that up. So, I walked him into the YMCA to sign him up. The whole time he begged me not to, “Please don’t. I’m scared. What if people look at me?”. That has always been his excuse. He doesn’t want people to look at him. I promised him that it would be good for him and mainly everyone there would be mainly watching their own children. This time, I wasn’t backing down – I was going to sign him up!

After I signed him up, I often contemplated how this would go. Will this be another sport to set his self esteem back? Will he hate it and resent me for it? Will he make friends? Hopefully, I don’t waste my money on top of it. $85 for signing up, $53 for soccer cleats and $16 in shin guards…this better be worth it. Most importantly, I’m taking a chance on it, because I think I truly believe in him and I think he is ready. But does he believe in himself?

First day of practice, we took our time going to Chik-Fil-A for dinner. I got him dressed in his new sport socks, shin guards and soccer cleats. Then we took off for the field. “I’m excited, but also nervous”, he said. That was the first enthusiastic reaction from it. Maybe the outfit made him feel like a real soccer player and gave him the positive boost that he needed. Once we got there, we searched for his team. We walked up to the coach and introduced ourselves. The coach was very polite and encouraging. He didn’t care that my son had never played on a team before, and luckily my son wasn’t the only one just joining in. “Well, let’s break in those new cleats and warm up with your team”, Coach S told my son. He smiled and slowly walked onto the field with the other boys. I could tell that he was apprehensive and anxious, because he kept his hands in his pockets – one of his usual habits of nervousness.

After some warming up with kicking the ball around and spiking some balls into the goal. The coach gathered all of the boys together in a circle for stretches and introductions. “Tell everyone your name, age and your favorite animal”, Coach S instructed the boys. After that, he made the boys run 2 laps, and line up for some basic kicking skills. He showed the boys how to point with the opposite foot for better aiming and other basics. I took down notes on my phone of what aspects that I need to work on at home with my son this week. As they began doing different drills, my son often looked back at me with a wide drawn smile. I could tell he was enjoying himself. He was following instructions pretty well, and he was keeping up with his teammates. He kept getting put together with one boy in different practice drills. He started creating a bond with him, which was great to see. During the first water break, my son didn’t stop for water, he just kept practicing.

Finally, after about an hour, the practice was over. My son ran over to me with sweat dripping off of him and dirty knees, “That was so much fun!” he shouted. I could feel the smile on my face, “Really? So you liked it!”. He grabbed the water bottle, “Yeah! it was awesome!..Coach said that practice is next Monday”, he replied. I just couldn’t contain how excited I was from his reaction. This was truly a new beginning.

My son grew the strength within himself to become better than he ever was. He is on the honor roll, he is achieving his goals on his IEP, he knows his worth, and now he is playing on a sports team while making new friends. I’m glad he is meeting new kids that are doing the things that he loves and can develop friendships based on their similar interests. He can gain so much from playing sports and I’m so grateful that we have finally reached that point in his life where he can do this now. It took lots of heartbreaks and getting back up from our troubles to finally get here. I am looking forward to seeing all that he will gain from this as well. I am proud of him and looking forward to an amazing new season…and new person in him.

Soccer: New Beginnings In the past, I have not pushed my son to play sports, which is unusual to my upbringing.

0 notes