Jsack's Mom's Blog

Welcome to my blog where I share my special needs parenting journey with my heart, truth, and love, one story at a time. ❤️

#1000 Speak Compassion-nurturing 

 At this moment in time I could use some nurturing. My heart has suffered from being judged, my body from pushing it to the limit of injury, my soul from putting myself last on the list of life’s priorities. It’s been my own doing, I put myself out there and recieved ridicule and embarrassment. I allowed it to hurt my heart and make me feel cheap, dirty, and ashamed. There is a thing about being too honest especially on social media.

I started a new workout routine as I’ve been living with chronic pain for the last five years. And slowly it’s grinding away at all the wonderful things I’ve accomplished over that time. The nurturing place where I housed my children and now my back is full of white hot pain if I do too much. Lifting my child who is showing all the signs of a sensory meltdown as he runs through a parking lot. Carrying him to bed after he’s so wound up from seeking sensory input all day he crashes in my arms on the couch.

Picking him up and cradling him like my little Joey and I’m his kangaroo Mama keeping him safe from a world that’s too loud, busy, bright, and at the same time beautiful in it’s simplicities and complexities. I exercise to keep myself fit, healthy, and fabulous. I started a new workout routine and matched the instructor for move for move. No matter how fast or extreme it would be in the long run. What the end result was an aggravated old back injury from a bulging disk, and not being able to walk properly for three days!!! What was I thinking I asked myself as I had to hobble around with a cane and parent from my couch?!

I wasn’t thinking about my age that’s for sure. I was thinking of who I was before when I was the fitness instructor with seventeen years experience. Who gave those intense workouts and also participated in them. It’s been a humbling experience as I recently started a fitness challenge and I’m on the sidelines cheering everybody on. I have an invitation to start a free one week bootcamp in my town. I look at each day mocking me and my lack of flexibility. How is it possible after ten years of teaching I could become so inflexible? Easy enough I allowed my mind to become that way being a right fighter, and my body became rigid and immobile.

I need to nurture that part of my myself that makes me feel whole again. I write, read, whine onto my digital paper and drink copious amounts of wine to dull my pain. Who knows of this push and pull existence that I put myself through time and  time again. It’s you my dear readers who have followed along with me on my journey through heartache, grief, self loathing, and sometimes redemption. I lay myself bare and venture out into the world when it seems to be less cold, hard, and judgemental. This is my life as a Mom with children with special needs.

You can’t see my son’s conditions but if you push them to the limit they’ll bleed through with their reactions to noise, over stimulus, and disapproving stares. One has a disorder called Sensory Avoidance. I refer to it as his needs are like a bucket of water and everyone puts in a cup throughout his day. When he’s home from school his sensory bucket is overflowing. and he needs to empty it out and self tegilate with calm and quiet time. I give him this time to decompress as I know it’s essential to his psyche and mental health!


My other son has the opposite disorder he is a seeker of sensory input and it’s referred to as Sensory Modulation. His condition I refer to as having an empty bucket that he fills with cups of water all day long with every interaction, noise, and stimulus. Each time his bucket is almost full he dumps it out and has to start all over again. So this is the push and pull of my son’s existence. One wants to avoid all contact until he’s regulated and able to fill up his bucket. The other is constantly dumping it out and finding new ways to fill it!

They both empty my patience bucket on a regular basis, and I need to fill it back up again with things that help. Like quiet time to myself, being able to read, write, soak in a bubble bath until  enveloped in the softeness and luxury. Closing my bedroom door each night and cuddling into my love my husband, my soft place to fall. He holds me and nurtures me and my hearts love bucket is full of self worth, respect, consciousness, and unconditional love. And I’m refreshed and restored and able to face another day. Whether it’s full of fighting, auditory hyper sensitives, food texture issues, sensory seeking, or sensory avoiding.

We all need to be loved, respected, accepted, loved, and nurtured. Please take that time to give your body, mind, and soul are crying out for. Don’t be like me who pushes and pulls into the core of my existence till my broken, weary, sleep deprived shell of a human body can’t take it anymore. Find those ties that bind you to the ones you love, absorb their love and strength, full that love bucket, and be more than, better than, stronger than the pain that threatens to grind you down. Love, nuture, take the steps to self care, and truly cherish that reflection that stares back at you from the mirror of your life.

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To the woman who judged me #mommitment 

To the Mother who judged me, I lay awake thinking of what you said. How you blurted out your casual comment not knowing it was like a serrated knife to my heart. Or maybe you did know that and didn’t care. It felt like you had an agenda the first time you laid eyes on me. We were on a busy commuter bus, going to the same destination; and I thought I’ll never see you again. But I asked you to back off and you didn’t. This is me wearing my heart on my sleeve and pouring out my pain in that moment. 

The Judgement Bus

How can you sit there and judge me? 

While people just stop and stare. 
I’m shocked by what you said to me. 
I didn’t ask you to share. 
You don’t know me or my child, or what’s his story. 
You just spouted off your ignorance and didn’t even say sorry. 
I was staring at the smugness on your face. 
I said he has autism and his meltdown I wanted to erase. 
I didn’t know what to say as my hot tears stung my eyes. 
I could see you watching my child with disgust, which was no surprise. 
I’ve seen people like you where I have to hold my anger inside. 
Buckle up son, it’s the judgment bus coming through. 
And it’s going to be a bumpy ride. 
I won’t let them see that one shining tear. 
As I could fill an ocean of denial.  Sadness lives here. 

As I look back and read this poem, tears are streaming down my face. I recently became a proud member of The Mommitment Movement, dedicated to putting an end to “Mom Wars.” Its mission is to promote love, acceptance, and kindness instead of judgment. 

I’m adopting the motto, ‘I won’t judge you as a Mom, so please don’t judge me.’ We all came into this world the same way, with a beautiful newborn baby – without an instruction manual. The experience I had on the bus made me realize how much I have to reinforce this positive message in my life. I immediately wanted to hurt her like she hurt me and my pride. My son wasn’t even bothered; just happy to have a seat, and to watch life out the window.  I won’t change my thinking, my thin skin, or the fact that I wear my heart on my sleeve. I will abide by this code in my backyard, while I tend to the flowers I’m growing. I’ll respect your right to tend to your flowers however you see fit. 

After the bus incident, I’m more committed to Mommitment than ever. I can’t change the world around me. I can’t make people accept my son and his special needs. But this is Autism Awareness month, and I can help change his world by spreading more awareness, education, and understanding. Having the force of the proud and powerful Mommitment movement along with a parenting support network behind me, I finally don’t feel so alone on this journey. 

To learn more about this game changing campaign, please read the post that started it all.   

And here you can sign the pledge and be part of Mommittment. ❤️

Next Life, NO Kids
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