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. ❤️

Monday Musings-Triggers of the Past

What is it about the past that activate the triggers in your mind from childhood? It’s like those thoughts lay in a locked  box deep inside my brain then something happens and then they’re triggered, and opened up to sift through like a filing cabinet of memories. I recently woke up with a stiff neck and had to spend most of my day resting and stretching my overworked muscles. 

I started a new fitness program and I was overzealous about it and this is the result. I have to remember I’m not twenty anymore and take it at a less than frantic pace. All I could think about as I lay there feeling sorry for myself was how much I loved to climb as a child. You could find me in trees, on top of the roof of my house, and sitting on my Mom’s upright piano. 

There was one time I was climbing like usual after I bounded out of the house after breakfast. I reached out to grab a branch and instead I grabbed a snake! You can imagine my fright as I felt helpless and plummeted to the earth below. I lay there listening to my bones crack I wondered if I could walk and if that snake was going to land on my head. I could see it still in the tree hissing at me like something out of Disney’s Robin Hood. 

I never did like that character Sir Hiss as my Mom and Gram had a fear of snakes and all I knew was to fear them as well. My Mom came outside to check on me and saw me lying on the ground. She started screaming, crying, and praying as she tried to find help. All my siblings had left for school and my Dad for work. So she picked me up and brought me into the house. 

She laid me softly down on the couch and covered me with my favourite blanket. She put a cool washcloth on my forehead and began to check my head and neck for damage. I was so sore and had a big goose egg on the back of my skull. It hurt to move my neck so I just laid there while my sweet Mama cried and prayed over me. 

We lived in a rural community so to find anyone home to take me to the Dr was a slim and none chance. My Mom gave me something for the pain and turned on the tv. She had put my favourite show Sesame Street on and I listened and drifted off to sleep. I survived that fall and many others because I was a climber. Now I have my own child that loves to climb bookshelves, the back of the couch, on top of his bike, and has yet to climb a tree. 

This is what I thought about as I lied there in my bed having my pity party unable to turn my head while my sweet little boy looked after me. I don’t do helpless and sick very well, I don’t suppose any of us does. I just wish for my Mom to look after me like she did so long ago. But time has passed on and with it her life has too so I end up wistfully missing her and her tender loving care. 

Childhood triggers fill my mind with memories of good days and bad. Songs, games, and old friendships that were so important to me. I think of that old red house that reminded me of a barn on a farm. With the big heater with the stove pipe in the middle of the room. I think of the many hours spent there on my beloved Mama’s lap as she rocked me holding me tightly in her arms. I wish I could go back there for another day feeling that loves and cherished. Instead I lie here in my bed stiff and sore cuddling my child. Who will grow up and have these memories of special times with his Mom. 

This brings to mind a poem to fill my wistful grieving heart. 

Forget not that the earth delights to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair.

Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.

Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.

-Rumi

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#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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