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-Christmas in my comfort zone

I’ve always been a traveller during the holidays. Ever since I was four years old and my Mom would have my sister and I for Christmas and my Dad would have us for Boxing Day. This tradition continued for many years until my Dad passed it over to my middle sister and her family. We’re of Ukrainian descent on my Dad’s side so it would be a day consisting of perogie making and eating contests. This was our way of celebrating the Ukrainian Christmas that falls in January. 

My oldest brother always won the record of most perogies eaten at one sitting with fifty-two and our Dad a runner up with forty-nine. I won for the women one year with fourteen eaten and many, many, created in my family’s kitchen. Now that I’m married and have a family of my own I have my own traditions. We do Christmas baking and advent calendars with my kids. I also started the book advent where a new book is unwrapped and read each day up till Christmas. My son’s each get to open a present on Christmas Eve which consists of pyjamas or slippers. This year they each get a family movie night box complete with hot chocolate, DVD, popcorn, and pj’s. 

I’m excited about this new way of celebrating Christmas with my children! I love to see their faces lit up with the joy of decorating the Christmas tree. As well as their amazement when we see how many decorations we piled on that seven foot beauty. We’ve always been the members of our family who lived furthest away but were expected to travel. And so we did just as couple for many years and later as a family of four. My Grandparents and parents were still alive during these Christmases and seeing them was what made my holiday brighter. 

  
After they had passed away in 1991, 1999, 2009, and 2011 our trips back home ceased to happen. It was just too heartbreaking to go back to the same place and see that empty spot at the kitchen table. The last Christmas I had with my Dad my oldest son was two. I remember how special it was to see them together soaking up every precios moment they could together. It was bittersweet as I knew this would be the last time they’d share aholiday together. 

When my Mom had passed I was eight months pregnant with my second son. She had known he was planned for, created, and growing in my belly but never got to meet him or hold him. That last Christmas she spent most of it sleeping as her medication for travel made her very tired. I wasn’t able to travel as I was being watched for complications. The next time I saw her was at her viewing in the church and then her funeral. That wasn’t something I’ve been able to forgive myself for but I know it’s nothing I had control of. In time I will heal and let that go. For now it’s a double edged jagged knife in my heart. That makes it hard to breathe sometimes….

Now my children are growing up so quickly I’d like to freeze time and let them stay little and innocent awhile longer. We travelled to family last year and it took a lot out of us as a whole. It’s not easy to have a busy, loud, bustling, holiday season with sensitive children. Being out of routine, away from their calming and emotionally regulating routine and not sleeping well can lead to sensory overloaded meltdowns. While it’s common for this time of year it’s not always accepted behaviour at one’s home, family relative or not. 

I spent a lot of time outside playing in the snow with my kids. Snowball fights, snowman building, and powder diving kept them happy, calm, and me from losing my ever loving mind! My youngest son with his Sensory Processing Disorder has a lot of food texture issues so I knew he wouldn’t be having the turkey with all the trimmings. No matter how delicious it appeared to be for others he was happy with his peanut butter sandwich and milk. I did not pressure or chastise him for this preference, as this is not how to help him adapt and want to try new foods or food groups. 

Food is not a battle I choose to have with my son. I pick them carefully because at this time of year everything in his environment is a hair trigger to a blow up waiting to happen.  His older brother who’s a Sensory avoider of excess sensory input will cover his ears, beg for quiet time, and get overloaded by the noise and commotion. Then my youngest who’s a seeker of this sensory input who will run, spin, stim, and then fall apart with exhaustion or overload. This is what I refer to as Armageddon implosion, internally they’re struggling so much, and externally they can’t regulate themselves without my help. 

 In 5-4-3-2-1 BOOM 💥 massive meltdown city is where we’re living and it’s not for the weak hearted. This leads to my husband and I watching for the triggers and doing our best to keep them calm or remove them from the situation entirely. That is how we spent last Christmas Eve where I was told my one son needed valium, and my reply was “no he could use some understanding, I’ll take the Valium.” To be honest my wine glass was never empty during that holiday.  We all got to do what we got to do to get through those hellish hours, without judgement. 

Last year was a long, painful, exciting, and exhausting holiday. I got to see family on my husband’s side and mine. My kids were eager to see their aunts and uncles and open up and play with their toys. I was able to sit back and relax and enjoy seeing them happy and regulated around my side of the family. While repeating my mantra there’s no place like home. Because really there isn’t, it’s so rewarding to be able to hang out in your pj’s all day eating popcorn and watching Netflix. I went against my better judgement and did what was expected of me and my kids reacted accordingly. I accept that now, although it was a bitter pill to swallow at the time. 

This year I’m doing what’s best for them and staying home. We just moved and bought our house last year and now after eighteen months we get to have our first Christmas in it! I’m so excited to relax in my pj’s, cook a big turkey with all the trimmings, munch on my holiday baking, and enjoy Christmas movies with my family. I will light a candle for my loved ones who are no longer with us. Yet are now our Christmas angels from heaven sending us love and comfort when we need it the most. I will provide strength to my family and relatives who are walking through the pain of losing their family member as well, and trying to get through the holidays while grieving. 

After all the eating, sharing, and cuddling are done then we’ll roll out of the house after indulging in our holiday feast and go tobogganing and enjoy a bonfire, hot chocolate, and laughter with our friends. I couldn’t be happier about starting to revive this tradition and add some new ones to our family. This year we are travel free, except to the toboggan hill and back. I couldn’t be more happier and excited about revelling in this freedom and joy!  Christmas is where the heart is, and also where my comfort zone resides. 

It’s time for #Mondaymusings and all you have to do is this list of things. 
Write a post sharing your thoughts with us – happy, sad, philosophical, ‘silly’ even. Make it as personal as possible.
Use the hashtag #MondayMusings and link to this post.
Add your link to the linky which you will find either here and on the post of a co-host.
Use our #MondayMusings badge to help other bloggers join in too.

Today’s co-hosts are Happiness and FoodBlogs by EshaEveryday Gyaan thank you for having me in the linkup today. 😃

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My little box of memories

I like to think I’m a juxtaposition of a person I can be soft and gentle with my words and actions, and tough and hard when I feel I’m wronged. I was raised to be strong, speak my mind, and stand up for myself. My parents recognized a tenacious spirit in me when I was very young. I have been a right fighter most of my life. Now I ask myself do I want to be right, or do I want to be happy? 

As a child I could stay awake for hours on end while my poor Mom was sleep deprived and living on pots of cast iron tea to function. This is when four tea bags are added to a tea pot and left to steep all day. My Dad worked long hours as a logger and he would be up getting ready for his work day at midnight. I would still be wide awake partying in my crib. 

He would come into my room and tell me it was time to go to sleep and I would wail even louder. As I got older his attempts to put me to bed became more futile as I had language and comprehension. I would say “Daddy you just go away and mind your own business!”He would walk out shaking his head and say “that bloody kid is lucky she’s cute!”

These are the memories I store in my memory box in my mind. My parents died awhile ago and pictures I have in my memory bank are all I have left. I rely on my older siblings recounts of my childhood and a box of slides to preserve these precious moments in time. I remember when I was young how much I loved to set up the projector to have a slide show as all the happy times came to life on the white sheet pinned to the wall of the living room. The pictures would paint a lively account of the trips we took, birthday parties, baseball games, weddings, and church events. 

Now I store my memories in a special box that keep on my beside table. Inside are pictures of my loved ones,their funeral Mass cards, poems, prayers, and trinkets that they gave me. I have the first story that I ever wrote with my Mom and the first song I wrote for her. I have my Dad’s pins from Lion’s club that he was proud to be a member of for over 30 years. I have a pair of earrings and necklace set from my Gram and Grandpa that they gave me for my graduation, and a old travel sewing kit of my Grandpa’s from the war.

 Each time someone I love passes on I add to this little box. It helps me perserve the love I have for them and keep them alive in my heart. I take them out from time to time when I’m feeling low and in need of a lift from angel wings. I hold them, absorbing the love, energy, and every precious memory I have of my time with them. I feel comforted through my tears as they overcome me with emotion flooding my thoughts, feelings, and actions. 

This little box is my gift I give to myself to pick me up when I stumble and forget how to fly. 
This is a special keepsake that I can pass down to my children when it’s my time to have the special things I’ve given them to place in that box. I’ve written them letters of how I became their Mom and the joy that they have given me with that privilege. As for now I open that box and lovingly hold those memories close to my heart so I will never forget the people who made me who I am today with their presence in my life. I thank them for the gift of their love, light, and guidance. 
  

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Fly to the Angels

What does death mean to you? To me it’s like knowing someone’s in another room and it’s locked up and you lost the key to get in. The room’s surrounded by a brick wall that reaches to the sky and the only access you have is to take a magic carpet ride to an awaiting cloud. Does it signify a ending or a new beginning? I could wax poetic about it for hours yet my feelings still remain the same, that death hurts. It takes someone you love away from you and unravels a stray thread in the fabric of your life. It doesn’t leave you to make a decision of I’m just not ready for you to go or even begin to prepare you for goodbye. Death means I look towards heaven and wonder if you’re up there being reunited with your loved ones. So many to count that passed on before you many years ago and some recent souls. I wish I knew if you were met with such an outpouring of love and depth of emotion that it overwhelmed you when you crossed over. All I know is that I have my memories to hold onto and cherish. How your kindness to my family in our times of grief will never be forgotten. I will never forget our last heart to heart discussion, and how it opened up my eyes to seeing our family tree in truth and technicolour. I wish for you all the things you didn’t have on earth peace of mind, comfort, abundant  health, and the ability to feel freedom. I wish for your family love, comfort, and fond memories of your time with them. And most of all I wish that I could see you again and let you how much you mean to me. Goodye, God bless, and may flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.

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#Monday Musings-Rejection

She stared at the words on her phone screen goodbye as her tears started to fall and the words blurred into a black squiggly mess. It’s how some people choose to communicate breaking up, getting fired, and ending friendships via text. It’s how disconnected and disingenuous our world has become when this is thought of as an appropriate form of communication. And yet knowing this didn’t stop the pain that she felt as the reality crashed down on her like a ton of emotional back logged sludge. Any way you slice the rejection pie it hurts. 

Goodbye-it seemed so easy to say after many years of a childhood friendship that ends in tatters and torment from one persons choices. She couldn’t understand the finality of those words but as days turned into weeks, and weeks into months it became abundantly clear. How was she supposed to break away from those feelings of guilt for stating an opinion, questions that were mistaken for judgement, how did she become enemy #1 when she had been supportive for so long? 

She wrestled with her own guilt and remorse for things spoken and not said. For all those times when death came knocking on ones door taking a loved one and how that friendship remained loyal and steadfast and supportive through those dark times. When she became so wrapped up in her own grief that she couldn’t breath through the tightness in her chest and her scalp where even her hair began to hurt! 

She was no stranger to grief as she had to say goodbye to her Grandparents, followed by the deaths of her Father and step sister who left the world in sickness and confusion. There was no one to save them from Cancer or a broken soul that couldn’t take the pain of living in the world any longer. Where she could still hear the incessant sound of the PSP pump when it ran out of morphine that was allowing her dear Dad to go gentle into that goodnight. A month after in her tear stained, grief encased fog she was met with the news of the suicide that her step sister took to end her pain. This death so fresh, shocking, and regrettable when the path of her existence of loss and devastation was to great to bear. She began to question what life was all about, how would she survive when her heart felt like it was literally broken in two, and how would she continue to get out of bed and raise her child? 

At one time there were loving arms to wrap around her as the death of her Mother brought her to a halt. When words failed her and she sang so loud and proud on the final day of goodbye that even heaven could hear her. Then after the song stopped and she closed her mouth the tears flowed and the grief wall overtook her like lava from an erupting volcano and burned up her heart. She couldn’t walk without assistance as her bulging pregnant belly and aching hips gave in to the world of loss around her. Words spilled out of her mouth but could find no meaning as they became fear infused stuttering. 

Somehow she managed to carry on and walk that path of hopelessness and loss and raise her children and live to face another day. She had successes, job transfers, losing and loving new friends that entered her life. Each move felt like another form of painful ending mixed with the excitement of a new beginning. So much so that she didn’t know if she really was coming or going in the chaotic existence she had carved out for herself. 

How did she say goodbye to a thirty year friendship, she didn’t have a choice she just had to let it go and grieve another loss in her life as her heart bled on the page once again…

  Today I share this with the #Mondaymusings link up hosted by Corinne of Write Tribe and co-hosted by Philosophers Stone

https://www.facebook.com/BraveGirlsClub/photos/a.143945461409.136897.138801301409/10153709766621410/?type=3

*Image used with permission from http://www.bravegirlsclub.com and found on their Facebook page hehttps://www.facebook.com/BraveGirlsClub/photos/a.143945461409.136897.138801301409/10153709766621410/?type=3re

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Ten things of thankful TTOT Link Up

  
I’m participating in something new today. In Lizzi’s TTOT blog linkup that is celebrating one hundred successful weeks. This truly is amazing as I’ve never known any linkup to last that long. So seeing how I really need to be reminded of things I’m thankful for I had to be part of this momentous occasion. 
1. I’m thankful even as I’m stumbling through my grief I can still have my memories to connect with. Some days they are what gets me through my pain to my power that lies within. 

2. I’m thankful that I have my children who love me, appreciate me, and will cuddle with me when my heart is hurting. 

3. I’m so thankful that my husband will drop everything when I tell him I need him. He is my hero and demonstrates his love in action daily for our family and I. 

4. I’m thankful that I saved every message from the last six months so that I can read my friends words who flies with the angels. It’s helping me feel closer to her and my memories of her friendship. 

5. I’m thankful I had an wonderful birthday and received such an outpouring of love through messages, phone calls, gifts, cards, and hugs and kisses from amazing people in my life. That I feel so truly grateful for today. 

6. I’m thankful for sticking with my back to back fitness challenges even when I felt like giving in. And that I have the hard work to show for it. 

7. I’m thankful for my coach Ryan who’s been there to support me every step of the way. He’s become that drive and ambition that was missing in my life. His encouragement and faith in me has helped me begin to live a healthy lifestyle and rid myself of chronic pain.

8. I’m so thankful at the end of a long day that I have my husband by my side. He’s my love and my soft place to fall when the world is just too scary to take on. He loves me with all he has to give and I’m so grateful that he is in my life. 

9. I’m so thankful for all my incredible online friendships that I’ve made since I started my venture in blogging. Other gifted writers, page admins, and wonderful people who like to come hang out at my Facebook page. It makes my day to see my notifications lit up with their interactions. 

10. I’m so thankful I have a husband who works so hard to provide for our family. With a roof over our heads, our pantry and fridge stocked up with food, and utilities to keep our home running efficiently. 

This is bonus one, I’m thankful for Lizzi for coming up with the brilliant concept of Ten Things of Thankful  list, and for having me be part of it today.  ❤️

https://summat2thinkon.wordpress.com/ten-things-of-thankful/

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Part 2 #Taking Back Me Fitness Challenge

Here’s the continuation of Part 1 of the Taking Back Me challenge that Tracy on the Rocks and I are embarking on. We have lots to share, read on dear followers. 😃

Continuing my answer from the question:

 What strategy do you intend on utilizing to reach your goals?

 Jsack Mom: I will be using the Beach Body on demand program with access to various workouts. As well as recipes, meal plans, and fitness nutritional products. I also have my fitness challenge group who keep me accountable, inspired, and motivated to keep to the course. I’ve also downloaded this app called Happify that is working on keeping me positive and eager to meet my challenges each week.I’ve also downloaded this app called Happify that is working on keeping me positive and eager to meet my challenges each week. 

 Tracy on the Rocks: Accountability!

For nutrition: My girlfriend who I am doing the Medifast through will check up on me with the eating. I also downloaded “My Fitness Pal” app. 

For exercise : My friends at work with yell at me if I don’t come to boot camp and or yoga, and encourage me while I am there. 

Specifically, I intend on losing 2lb/week through the Medifast meal plan and exercise. 

 What are some challenges you anticipate facing in the upcoming weeks?

 Jsack Mom : My biggest challenge was in this week I started the Beach Body 21 day fix program and after lunge overload I tweaked my old back injury. So I’ve been able to follow the meal plans but not workout. I was saddened and frustrated but I’ve taken the time to rest, ice, and recuperate. My coach has been wonderful and encouraging as well as my fitness challenge group. I feel very blessed and motivated to get back up on the workout horse as I’m feeling a little better as the swelling has been dissipating. This time I will be smart and I won’t be the “go big or go home” mentality. 

Tracy on the Rocks: My biggest challenge is going to be laying off the wine.  And trying not to whine 

too much about the hard workouts. Also, being impatient about seeing results. I want to be skinny RIGHT.NOW. Dammit!! ha 

What is your Plan B if you fail on this challenge?

Jsackmom: I won’t fail, even with this physical set back with my back injury.  I’m still eager to get back into working out at a moderate pace while I gain strength and endurance. And fix this muscle imbalance between my abdominals and low back region. I’ve incorporated more stretching and yoga in my rest days as well. 

 Tracy on the Rocks: There is no 

Plan B!! I won’t fail!!! 

So BOOM there it is (as my coach says) Tracy on the Rocks and I will be keeping each other motivated, accountable, and updating our progress here each week. Stay tuned my dear readers, because we’re going to rock this #takingbackme challenge. 😃💪🎉

We will be back next week updating you dear readers on our progress. And if you’d like to join in with us please do. 

#takingbackmechallenge

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These Eyes of Mine

I look at these eyes of mine ,bluer than blue staring back at me from the mirror. The crystal blueness takes me back as I see one tear slipping across my cheek. There’s a vast ocean of pain that these eyes of mine hide. I do my best to deal with it, hide it, and keep it all in until it’s pouring forth like a waterfall of emotion. I think to my past and wonder if I could’ve been better. A better daughter, sister, aunt, and friend. I think of all these roles I played from a young age. I became an aunt at the age of six, and I was quite used to being the youngest child in my family. 

I sat on my Dad’s lap and watched my big brother holding this tiny baby. I had a mixture of emotion as I looked at him. Curiosity, excitement, and yes even jealousy. My Dad had left when I was four I remember it all too well; the crying, shrieking, and red hot anger of my Mom as she chased him out of the house. He was running for his life as she brandished a knife, and I knew this was a women on the edge between sanity and survival. He had pushed her to a breaking point and she had pushed back. My Dad left, ran out of our house and didn’t look back. He took on a new family, responsibilities, and lived in their home. 

I visited every weekend and holidays and this never felt like my home.  I was a guest and nothing more, and I struggled to feel comfortable in my own skin. This wasn’t my Mom, bedroom, or backyard. This was too much newness for a little four year old girl to understand. I didn’t feel like I was special, wanted, or appreciated. I remember attending kindergarten in the fall. I was badly in need of a haircut and it was picture day on Monday. This would be my first and last haircut that my step Mom ever gave me. I couldn’t sit still the bowl on my head was heavy and cumbersome. The hairs tickled my nose and made me sneeze. It was an overstimulatmg sensory experience and everyone just thought I was misbehaving. I was called a brat and left on my own after that. 

I looked in the mirror and saw this ragamuffin hairdo and I cried bitterly the rest of the weekend. My first Kindergarten picture and I looked like I had cut my hair with a butterknife! My Mom was furious and tried to fix it but the damage was done. I couldn’t even smile for that Godforsaken picture. It tore me up inside to look so ridiculous. The taunts, jeers, and stares overwhelmed me. I spent more time hiding or throwing my fists around to avoid any confrontation. I was no stranger to it in fact I welcomed it, then someone knew I was there and mattered. After that hideous haircut I avoided going near a pair of scissors or that stool again. 

Then just like everything that floats around elementary schools and germ warfare I got lice at the age of six. I was horrified and scared about what was happening to me as I scratched my head until it bled. My Mom blamed my Dad, my Dad blamed my Mom and I was sent to stay with my Grandparents for a week. I remember sitting in the purple clawfoot tub as my Gram rubbed pink calamine lotion over my head, neck, and eyebrows. I felt that hot water pouring over me and watching those dead bugs lying in the tub. As they swirled down the drain my tears mixed with the pink liquid as it streamed down my face and into my eyes. It burned a lot, but not as much as my hot humiliation of having contracted the condition anyway. 

These eyes of mine have seen a lot of pain, hidden a lot of lies, and have yet continued to be my windows of truth. These are memories I’ve stored away in the tiny box that I’ve buried in my mind. Then something will trigger it and like Pandora’s ill fated box it will open up again. These emotional scars I wear on my heart threaten to overtake me at times. I watched something tonight about children and what their Father represented to them. Some said pride, confidence, anger, pain, love, and nothing but emptiness because he was gone. This struck a nerve with me. A jangling nerve trigger that was hanging in the balance. And my bluer than blue eyes welled up with tears while I struggled to gain my composure. My children will never know of my pain, they will never experience that uncertainty or need to doubt their existence. They will know only love, guidance, respect, and firmness when discipline is needed. They will know only of my joy and gratitude when they blessed me with their arrival.  They will know that they are and will always be, the key to my heart. ❤️

 

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#1000Speak-Building from  Bullying 

I’ve been through a lot in my life but you wouldn’t know it unless you read my blog, or I decided to share with you. I’ve lived my life to be a kind, honest, and caring person. I was taught to be loving and patient even when others were not. I was taught to protect the weak and vulnerable, and cheer for the underdog. I’ve learned to turn the other cheek, and push through the pain and turn it into power. 

When I became a victim of bullying it turned my world upside down. I lived in a very small community so if anyone found out you were doing things outside of this bubble you became local gossip fodder. It wasn’t like I was doing anything wrong I was hanging out with my cousin in a bigger town, going to hockey games, and dating a hockey player. When the kids in my school heard about these things it became a mission to tear me down for having a life outside of my country existence. I can’t even begin to describe what I went through day in and day out with the taunting, teasing, and bullying.

I was only thirteen and the things I had to hear, defend, and ignore about myself were devastating. There was a group of boys and they had a ring leader and he made it his mission to make my life miserable. I wasn’t ugly, mean, ignorant, or self righteous but he was. He had everyone convinced that I was gutter trash and wasn’t worth the kindness of a smile, pat on the back, or acknowledgement for any talent. I was a volleyball player and I was good at my sport. I had all these girls from my grade and one above as my team mates. But no one spoke to me except my coach and my assistant.

If my lead bully saw anyone talking to me then they would suffer his wrath as well. So no one dared incur that, and it was easier to make rude comments or ignore me completely. I still continued to play volleyball and I had a couple friends that would talk to me and be seen in public with me, that were in a grade below me. This disgusting, defeating, behaviour only occurred in my classroom. In between classes I could mix in with the swarm of other kids filling up the hallway to get to their next classes. I enjoyed that anonymity even with however brief it was.  There was this time I went to my locker before gym and had noticed that it  had been tampered with.

Someone had splashed something on it and smeared across the door was the words bitch slut! I was born and raised Catholic so I was the furthest from those derogatory terms. I opened up my locker and saw my binders had all been opened up and papers were everywhere, and my wallet was also missing. I was pissed off and I felt the hot, salty, tears run down my face. My teacher came up behind me and told me to go to the office to report it, so I did. Then I walked out to gym class and in between there and the school was a corridor and I sat there on the steps, trying to process my anger. I had my head in my hands wondering what I was going to do I was ready to cry again, when I felt I was being watched. I looked up and this girl who was a fair weather friend came up to me. She leaned over and said “I saw your locker and it’s too bad that you didn’t get your wallet back, I guess you won’t need this anymore!”

It suddenly clicked in my head that she was responsible as she was holding a picture of my boyfriend in his hockey gear. I flew across the stairs and grabbed her and started punching her in the face. I then grabbed and pushed her into a wall and started banging her face off it. She was frantically trying to fight back but I was possessed with a rage of a thousand moments of being bullied. Classes were ending and people started coming through the corridor. I was still punching and kicking and she began crying and screaming for someone to help her.

Suddenly the principal was there and he was pulling me off of her. He was shocked as well as the school secretary, who always knew me as being kind. This wasn’t the same girl who walked into the school and said good morning to all the staff. In the office, passing them in the hallway, and each of their classrooms. I had attended this school system since Kindergarten so I knew everyone very well. I had to sit in detention with the bitch/thief and she sat there with an ice pack over her eye and glared at me, as we faced each other across the room.

I still wanted to bash her face in as she looked at me smugly as our parents were called to come pick us up. My Dad was working and my Mom didn’t drive, and I refused to go anywhere with my Step Mom so I sat in the office the rest of the day. I had to write out an apology letter to my victim and I was still very angry so I remember wording it as I’m sorry you couldn’t defend yourself after you broke into my locker. I’m sorry that you were such a bitch and I had to kick your ass and I got caught. I was suspended for five days and my Mom sent me to my Grandparents so I could have a break from our community gossip circle jerk.

I welcomed it, attended church, looked after the garden, and helped my Gram with meals. She knew I wasn’t a bad kid I was just tired of being bullied. I just wanted to live my life and not hurt anyone. Enjoy seeing my boyfriend play hockey games, go to his house for homemade Italian meals while his Grandma said “mange, mange your’e too skinny.” While I was at my Grandparents I saw a lot of him. He lived not too far away and he’d walk up and meet me after school. I also went to church and asked God to forgive me for my sins, anger, and bad temper. I was taught by my parents that I didn’t start a fight, but I sure finished one if it was brought to my side of the equation. I didn’t get punished from them as I think they were surprised that their sweet, smiling, studious, daughter finally snapped. The victim that had taken the ignorance, defamation, and horrendous behaviour for a year became the bully.

This is not something I’m proud of but I’m neither ashamed. I feel compassion for that confused, hurt, pissed off, teenager I was. I learned my lesson and today I’m a stronger, capable, and confident adult. I don’t let anyone step on my feelings or crush my spirit. I know when situations and people aren’t good for me as I trust my intuition a lot more. Now knowing my own child had to experience being teased, hit, and bullied, has ignited the fire of that child I was. I’ve advocated with the office administration, his teacher, and have even reprimanded his bully. I will not let the sins of the Mother, visit the son.

I teach both of my son’s to stand up for themselves, don’t instigate the fight, but definitely protect themselves. Now in the school system students use the W.I.T.S. program. The acronym stands for walk away, ignore, talk to someone, seek help. Since my son has been playing hockey he’s more confident in himself. And no one gets away with hitting him, teasing him, or bullying him. I will be that parent on the playground watching and waiting and he knows that I have his back always. My cup of compassion runs over with my children, and I am that Mama bear protecting my cubs. But my patience bucket is empty when it comes to bullies, their lack of intelligence, their own self hatred, and fear of not measuring up in society. So I pass down the golden wisdom to my kids that my beloved Mama would always say to me, “love many, trust few, and always paddle your own canoe.” I’m spending more of my time doing this. It’s so easy to get wrapped up into who we were in the past. The true courage is surviving that, and thriving with that knowledge in the present. ❤️

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Ready, set, go! 

I have so much to do and I’m already overwhelmed thinking about it. I have never ending overflowing laundry baskets and I’m totally my laundry room’s bitch for the past two weeks. I’ve got a wicker basket full of stuff I need to do, and the paperwork monster is threatening to grab me in a choke hold till I cry uncle! I know I can take things one day at a time but it’s my brain that never shuts that doesn’t get that message. 

Last week I had a meeting with my respite worker she asked me if I was a list person. I replied yes I love making lists, a lot of my blog topics start out that way. She asked me to write things out instead of using my notes app. So I did and it’s amazing how something so simple, can be so affective. Today I made another list and each day I cross off my accomplishments. It feels good to see that I’m taking care of things, but my overwhelm is with all the things I still need to do. It’s easy for me  to dispense out advice to friends and say look after your priorities and the housework will be there tomorrow. Like death and taxes laundry will always be something you can count on happening. 

I feel like I’m at the start of the race and I’m waiting for someone to be standing there with a pistol saying ready, set, go and I’m off like I’m lit on fire when I hear that shot go off! On one side of me is my calendar jammed with appointments, and on the other is my phone loaded up with texts, emails, and blog topics I need to return and write. At times we’re neck in neck and I literally feel the sweat pouring down my brow. Then I’m wiping it, dying of thirst, and I fall behind and struggle to keep up. 

There are many phone calls to be made, test results to track down, letters to be written, paperwork to be signed, and faxed. I’ve literally been held paralyzed with anxiety that I have to complete all the things and do it record time. The finish line appears to be so far away and my eyes are getting blurry as exhaustion starts to overtake me. Must be the fact I’m dehydrated and in need of something to quench my thirst. And that pesky cataract starts to bother me when I’m tired. So I start veering off the track and daydreaming while I can scarcely see my opponents in the distance. My vision doubles and I start to yearn for my couch. 

There I can have my fuzzy blanket and security while watching Lawrence of Arabia and enjoy eating a bowl of ice cream. This parenting gig can be hard at times. Add in a list of objectives, goals, and lists and you’ve got another job. Sometimes I just want to say &@@@ it and leave for someone else to do. But if I do that then my children won’t get the services they desperately need. I can’t miss out on that, no matter how mentally, emotionally, and physically, exhausted I am. It’s not fair to them or to me if I fail, there’s a lot of resources and a lot of families in need as well. The autism journey can be a bumpy one at the best and worst of times. I’m learning new terminology everyday and as my brother says ATL’s (another three lettered acronym). 

He told me that last week and I laughed so hard, for about fifteen minutes as my life has become all about the letters. When will it all begin, when I’m assessed for funding, get a case worker assigned to me, or get a therapy team in place. There will be more people joining our small circle, lots of transitions, more appointments, and more trips into the city. I will be requesting a lot of home visits in the beginning. Getting my youngest son prepared for these upcoming changes and strangers in our reclusive world. This is never easy and I can use all the PECS (Picture Example Cards) available, but if he has anxiety about it all it’s just not going to happen. 

I honestly don’t know what to expect from branching out into this new world of programs, people, and personalities. I’m thinking as positively as I can and preparing and educating myself as well. So off I go into the sunset leaving worn out ideas, speculations, and false truths behind. From now on its facts, concrete results, and verified diagnosis’s that will matter. I owe it to my children to get them all the help I can. And I owe it to myself to know and believe this age old wisdom from Yoda. That little green guy’s wisdom has touched my life with its simple but gifted advice more times than I can count. Special thanks to http://lindaghill.com for the writing prompt. I couldn’t think of anything to use it for till now. It’s funny  how I just looked at this picture and words started flowing. Green man wisdom for the win!

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Writer’s Quotes Wednesday

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This has been my submission to http://silverthreading.com. Please check out her beauty and all the other talent who link up. Thank you. 💖

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