Day 9: Muddling in the journey toward healing

Maybe not quite lost, but I definitely feel like I am going in circles. I was able to start resting on Day 1 (July 1) because it was a holiday in which I had nothing planned, I had some respite from my son that day, and my son (non-verbal 4 year old) finally got better after having a low grade fever and other unknown symptoms for the last two weeks.

(Us on one of WAY TOO MANY sick days this year)

About Day 4 of my journey toward healing, I came down with a swollen stinging sore throat, probably the same virus my son had. This is the nastiest, longest sore throat and ears I have had in a very long time. From what we know from 3 doctors visits with my son, its a viral ear/throat infection. I just pray its what he had because if he is still going to get what I have now, I have a hellish couple of weeks ahead of me.

So needless to say, rest is difficult when you feel like crap. In fact I've heard a number of doctors say that if your body is in pain (physical or emotional) it makes it pretty difficult for it to heal itself. So part of me kind of feels like I'm back to square one again... or just waiting for this virus to pass so I can approach square one again.

And this is pretty much the story of my life as a single parent of a high/special needs child, trying to take care of myself.

The one thing that has caught my attention this week, is a weekly JOT (Just One Thing) I get from Dr. Rick Hanson (not the Man in Motion), one of the world's leading experts in clinical mindfulness and positive psychology. It was a post called Get Out Of The War. As the title suggests, it was about removing yourself from toxic situations, toxic thoughts, or any battles that you lose energy to, or battles that cause you (unnecessary) pain.

So while I am not resting, I am paying attention to the thoughts and situations where I am losing my peace of mind. The battle with my son's autism is the obvious one. 'The suffering is in the resistance' is one of my current mantras, so several times I have tried to let go wherever I was finding resistance to my son's autism, but this is a laughable effort at best. Autism is a ruthless, relentless, stalking predator, particularly when there is only one caregiver, and this morning was a perfect example of how futile 'letting go of resistance' is. The ride to the place where my son receives autism intervention is about 15 minutes long. 5 minutes into the ride my son figured out where we were going, and he screamed bloody-hell/someone-is-murdering-me/my-eardrums-are-bleeding for the duration of the trip. That's a battle I have ZERO control over.

The one battle I have let go of is the tension my heart feels at never achieving the house I really want to have. I still love my house but I've had to come to terms with the fact that my living room is my son's play room, complete with daily destruction. It will never be my place to let go. It will never be a place I can have ready to receive visitors. My kitchen floor will never ever be clean. My son might be the world's messiest eater, intentionally spraying crumbs with total glee, about 5-6 times a day. I have to tell visitors to keep their shoes on because it really might be cleaner outside than in. I let go of the master bedroom as my son has been so sick this last year, and sleeping in my queen bed with me, he has now assumed that is his room and will only sleep in there. I now sleep in his single bed, which I bought brand new for him this past Christmas. Fortunately, I spent the big bucks on it and its really comfortable. Having less room in bed is worth it not to be woken by a knee to the boob, a heel to the nose, or 45 pounds sailing through the air landing on my sleeping body.

And I am still trying to think of other ways to get out of other wars I don't need to be expending energy into.

This week's JOT from Rick Hanson talked about finding peace. He referred to four levels of finding peace. I remember the last one was about connecting to the Something Greater in life, which I already am. But the first one is probably the easiest for me to implement, and might be providing me a level of rest: it was about celebrating and dwelling on good accomplishments you have achieved. I can do that. And have done that.

 I feel proud of the family I have built with just my son and I.

I feel like I am a good mother most of the time.

I feel like I have weathered some pretty crazy shit and come out the other end wiser, stronger, and even more at peace.

 I feel good that I am able to pay my bills.

 I feel good that I am growing my own veggies in the garden.

 

I feel good about the community I found to raise my son in.

I feel good that I have increased my veggie intake by 90% and decreased my sugar intake by 95%.

I feel good that I take my son out to experience nature as much as I possibly can.

And I could probably keep going with a long list of simple thing... things that some might not consider accomplishments, but these things do give me a sense of peace. And in that peace, there is some rest.

Day 2: The Journey Toward Healing

Today is the second day of my journey into rest and relaxation. I have been talking about doing it since last Christmas, but there literally hasn't been a time since Christmas that I was able to let go, even for a day. I am talking white-knuckling it every day AND night (and I literally wake from sleep white knuckles hanging on to each other for dear life).

I spoke in another post about how moms of kids with autism (not specifically single moms, just moms) have stress levels similar to soldiers in active combat. I get that because there is little ability to predict when the next episode/attack is going to be, who will get injured and how, how long it will last, or how bad it will be. Typically there's a few a day. Sometimes there isn't one for a while, and then you wait to be ambushed. And you will be. So whatever you do, don't relax.

Much of the time, significant clean up is required after an episode. And the episodes also tend to cluster, so while you are drooped in defeat, cleaning up from one devastation, the enemy (autism) launches another attack on another front.  Perfect illustration: My non verbal ASD 4 year old pulled almost every one of his 100+ books off the shelf the other morning. As though to add a garnish on top of the mess, he also emptied his Mega Blocks and race tracks top of the books. The sitter found me working up a sweat trying to tidy things for her arrival, when we suddenly heard a CRASH out on the deck where my son had intentionally smashed a glass bottle. His delight was quite apparent and he didn't understand why I ran at him yelling, STAY THERE STAY THERE. He wanted to jump amidst his new smithereened creation, but I was able to hold him in place while the sitter got shoes for all of us. Then I got to go to my job (phew!). The following evening was relatively pleasant, watching (every second or he will take off) my still-diapered son playing in the sprinkler. I took off his wet clothes and shoes and left him in his wet diaper while I went to answer the doorbell to discuss an urgent maintenance matter with my neighbor. After a 5 minute conversation, I ran upstairs because I couldn't hear my son. What I found was  a kitchen smeared with diaper gel... he had broken through the protective barrier in his diaper, heavy with sprinkler water, and smeared the gel everywhere through the kitchen. Then I took him to the bathroom to wash him off in the shower and I got screamed at, head-butted, and bitten. I could go on, but you are getting a snapshot of what it looks like.

Add on top of this the fact that my 4 year old has been sick almost non stop for the last 5 months. This means 5 months of sleeping with me, or waking in pain, or crying etc; 9 trips to Children's ER, 6 of them in the middle of the night. Not only will my body not allow me to fall into a deep sleep, but it is ready to slam me with adrenalin to help me deal with whatever the mid-night screaming is about.

And thus my problem now arises: I HAVE TO RELAX if I want to survive to live another few years. But my body is coursing with so much adrenalin, when I sit still mid day, my whole body is buzzing like a bee. Like this bee in my garden as I started to write this today:

Bad picture, but I had to snap quick to capture the moment. The bee actually irritated me because I am working so hard to stop the buzzing (adrenalin) in my body, and the bee's buzzing was amplifying my buzzing.

So yes, Day 2 of my relaxation journey, and it will be a long journey. And apparently uncomfortable. Its tough coming off of 4 or 5 years of solid adrenalin.  Prescribed medication takes the edge off. But what really helps is meditation. Twice today I turned off the tv and meditated for about 5 minutes each before my son needed something from me. And I felt better. But its surprisingly hard to let go. And my adrenalin has served me so very well for so long. Its gotten me though dozens of experiences where many have said, "I don't know how you do it." Neither do I because adrenaline keeps doing it for me.

 I don't have anything wise to end this post off with except to invite you along with me on my journey back to calm. To center. To stability. And the very fact that I've created another post here tells me that my first step toward healing has already begun.