Starbucks Ruminations

A person's reality is formed by their experiences in life.  A person abused as a child learns distrust and fear of others. A narrative forms in their mind, a belief system that they are not worthy of respect and love from others and that others will undoubtedly hurt them and let them down, leave them. All input passes through the lens of this narrative becoming distorted. A person lives in the reality they create in their mind and truly believes the distortions their lens has produced. These distortions are then projected as truth out into the world because it is the only truth they can comprehend. Kindness, love, compassion are viewed as scams and lies. Differences are viewed as validation of the narrative. Adults have the ability to change their narrative, change the lens. It really is a choice. A person can make a choice to learn new thought patterns. A person can make a choice to accept they are flawed and accept responsibility for their behaviors triggered by their distortions. A person can seek resources to help them be a better version of themselves. They just have to want it enough to make the first step. And keep taking steps every day. Day after day. Change is work. Constant hard work. Even though their narrative creates a painful and lonely existence, it's still a comfortable existence because they know it, they don't need to do anything to achieve it, it just is. It's all they've ever known.

This is why there is a mental health crisis. It's easier to keep status quo than it is to effect change. We live our lives in a connected state, with limitless access to people supporting our narratives. Healthy or not, a person can find "facts" or quotes or even stylish memes to support their distorted perception. A person may see a quote about not falling in love with a certain someone because this certain someone wants them to seek treatment for their mental illness and therefore must not truly love the real them, and think "this makes sense" because it validates the distorted narrative of they are not worthy of love.

If a person suffers from a mental illness, is aware they are afflicted and they are aware their illness negatively affects those around them, their loved ones, but refuses to seek treatment, how long should those loved ones subject themselves directly to this illness? Is wanting someone to be truly happy, wanting someone to find peace and solace within themselves mean you do not love them for their true self? When does supporting someone become enabling someone? Is understanding a person's motivations providing justification for their hurtful behaviors? How does one continue to withstand the consequences of a loved one's behaviors while maintaining their own good mental health for which they work very hard to achieve?

Judgmental Rant

There’s no love greater than a mother’s love for her child.  I don’t care how you much you love your husband or your wife or your stepchild there is something special, something unique in carrying a life inside of your body and then caring for this new tiny, helpless person that you made.  The bond that develops is indescribable and unmatched in any other human attachment.  I know this to be true because I’ve experienced these bonds myself. I’ve had a wife and I’ve had stepchildren and I’ve given birth.  Nothing compares. If you have not experienced this then you cannot relate to me as you do not understand my perspective in regards to my child.  Therefore, your judgment is unwarranted and misplaced.

He was three years old when I began pressing the doctor for answers.  My partner and I had split a year previous and had no contact with each other.  He had a list of signs and symptoms that just weren’t being relieved by traditional methods.  We were referred to specialists who then referred us to other, more specialized specialists.  For the next two years I offered up my only son, my baby, to a plentitude of tests and needle sticks and procedures to try to determine the cause of his distress.  Two years I spent in the dark, alone, knowing something was wrong but getting no answers.  He was five years old when the brutality of life slapped me across the face with such a force that the bruise has yet to fade.  If you have never sat in a doctor’s office alone and had your entire world crumble around you with the delivery of a terminal diagnosis for your child; if you’ve never had to process and accept that no matter what you do, you will likely outlive your child as he has a diminished chance of even making to adulthood, then you cannot relate to me as you do not understand my perspective in regards to my child.  And again, your judgment is unwarranted and misplaced.

Two years after receiving that terrifying and crushing diagnosis, we were given another:  my son is on the autism spectrum; he has Asperger’s Syndrome.  He is a brilliant child, yet socially inept.  He has sensory issues and intense anxiety that cripple his ability to function successfully in a classroom setting.  Other kids see him as odd, different and naturally exclude him.  They can’t relate to him and he can’t relate to them.  His inability to perceive and understand social cues creates a plethora of misunderstandings and miscommunications with adults and peers.  His emotional maturity- his ability to understand and process his own emotions is stifled and delayed which leads to inappropriate conduct during these miscommunications.  He is in a constant state of fight or flight.  He has to work twice as hard as the next person just to get to the same place.  Every day, every moment is a struggle and he is weighted by the hand he was dealt.  I am his mother and it is my job to understand his struggle, understand his perspective and advocate for him to those who do not.  It is me, and only me, in the school office day after day, year after year, through countless meetings and conferences explaining and defending and apologizing and fighting for his rights.  If you have never had to face the reality that every day of your child’s predicted shortened life will be an intense battle with the world around him, then you cannot relate to me as you do not understand my perspective in regards to my child.  And again, your judgment is unwarranted and misplaced.

The persona you see in public-at work, at school, at play, is a façade.  It is the mask I wear to make it through each day.  Please do not presume you know me because you have lived with me or have spent considerable time with him.  You do not know us.  You have not been on this journey with us and you have no relatable experience with which empathize.  I do not want your pity, nor do I need your judgment.  I have done the best job I could given my own flaws, shortcomings and talents with the obstacles and hurdles I have faced.  And I continue to do my best to create the greatest quality of life I can for my son.

To anyone listening: Your unsolicited parenting advice, either to my face or to my peers behind my back is inappropriate and offensive.  Just because you can form an ignorant opinion doesn’t mean you should share it.  Mind your own business.

Passenger Speaks for Me

With regret, I'm willing to bet, and say the older you get
It gets harder to forgive and harder to forget.
It gets under your shirt like a dagger at work
The first cut is the deepest, but the rest still flippin' hurt
You build your heart of plastic, get cynical and sarcastic
And end up in the corner on your own.
So what's the point in getting your hopes up
When all you're ever getting is choked up?
Ever the chase to taste the kiss of bliss
That made your heart tingle
How much greener the grass is
With those rose tinted glasses
But the butterflies, they flutter by
And leave us on our asses.
'Cause I love to feel love but I can't stand the rejection
I hide behind my jokes as a form of protection
I thought I was close, but under further inspection
It seems I've been running in the wrong direction.
There's fish in the sea for me to make a selection
I'd jump in if it wasn't for my ear infection
'Cause all I want to do is try to make a connection
But it seems I've been running in the wrong direction.

Well I would swim but the river is so wide
And I'm scared I won't make it to the other side
Well God knows I've failed but He knows that I've tried.
I long for something that's safe and warm
But all I have is all that is gone
I'm as helpless and as hopeless as a feather on the Clyde.

 Cuz she left a hole in my heart
A hole in a promise
A hole on the side of my bed
Oh but now that she's gone
Well life carries on
And I miss her like a hole in the head.
Well sometimes you can't change
And you can't choose
And sometimes it seems you gain
Less than you lose.
Now we've got holes in our hearts
Yeah, we've get holes in our lives
Well we've got holes
We've got holes
But we carry on

Well, I've got no-one's word and nobody's promise,
Not a lot to show but this book full of sonnets.
My liver may be fucked, but my heart is honest,
And my word is true like the sky is blue.
Well, if you can't get what you love,
You learn to love the things you've got.
If you can't be what you want,
You learn to be the things you're not.
If you can't get what you need,
You learn to need the things that stop you dreaming.

Got a Polaroid picture in my wallet
I'm not gonna tear it, no, I'm not gonna spoil it
It's an unspoken heartbreak
A heartbroken handshake
I take with me where I go
Three words on the tip of my tongue
Not to be spoke nor sung
Or whispered to anyone
Till I scream 'em at the top of my lungs again
And though the sand may be washed by the sea
And the old will be lost in the new
Well four will not wait for three
For three never waited for two
And though you will not wait for me
I'll wait for you

Staring at the bottom of your glass
Hoping one day you'll make a dream last
But dreams come slow and they go so fast
You see her when you close your eyes
Maybe one day you'll understand why
Everything you touch surely dies.
Staring at the ceiling in the dark
Same old empty feeling in your heart
'Cause love comes slow and it goes so fast
Well you see her when you fall asleep
But never to touch and never to keep
'Cause you loved her too much and you dive too deep.
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

Don't you cry for the lost
Smile for the living
Get what you need and give what you're given
Life's for the living so live it
Or you're better of dead

(**disclaimer: I copied and pasted all lyrics; none of these words are mine.  I did change the pronouns in one song because I didn't like the gender.**)

A Change is in the Air

Here I sit on the edge of a precipice, staring off into the dangerous unknown. Before me a rope bridge extends out into a foggy horizon, its destination unseen.  Behind me lay the path my journey has blazed; laden with mountains and valleys, jagged cliffs and dark, dank caves.  Back there is the comfortable complacency in which I exist.  Out there is possibility and hope.  The gravity of my choice to direct my path over this bridge weighs heavy on this eve of change.  One misstep and it all goes to shit.  I can’t let that happen; I can’t return to this subpar existence.  Once I step out onto that bridge there is no turning back.  I will delicately balance all of my responsibilities and obligations on my shoulders; place one foot surely in front of the other and forge my way through the fog.  I do not know what awaits me over there but I believe it is a life worth living.  I’m confident there are mountains and valleys still but they will be majestic peaks surrounded by spacious valleys bursting with color; with the brightest green grass and the most vibrant flowers filling the air with the sweet, sweet scent of happiness.  That is my future over there, my son’s future; it’s high time I get to steppin’.

An Honest Look

Honesty.  How much is necessary?  How much is healthy?  Does every thought, feeling and action need to be disclosed to everyone in order for you to be considered a truthful person? 

I consider myself to be a truthful person.  If you ask me a question, I will answer truthfully.  I will tell you what I feel is relevant, pertinent and appropriate to the situation, at that time.  But does that make me a liar?  If you ask me what’s wrong, I may answer with I don’t feel well; an accurate and honest statement.  I may even offer that my tummy is quite upset.  I’ve made an honest revelation to your question with a supporting explanation.  Is that sufficient?  Or should I include that the vomiting and explosive diarrhea I’ve had for the past hour is the real reason I don’t feel well?  Is that information necessary for my statement to be truthful?  If I don’t share that information, one could say I’m withholding information which is also considered lying.  Did I, in fact, lie to you by keeping personal details as to why I’m not feeling well to myself?  Is full disclosure necessary? 

If the argument is no, not in every situation; then who is it that decides which situations are appropriate?  Is there a person out there or an unwritten code of conduct that decides which of my thoughts, my feelings and my actions I must disclose in order for the title of “truthful” to be bestowed upon me?

If you ask me a question and my answer is honest and truthful in that moment; am I now no longer able to change my mind?  If I do change my mind, does that mean I have now lied to you?  If you ask me at 8 am if I want to catch a movie later and I answer yes; when you ask again at 8 pm and my answer is no, did I lie 12 hours previous or have my thoughts, feelings and intentions just changed?  Is the reason they changed required to be divulged for honesty to happen?  If my reason is because I’m tired now, do I need to list the reasons that caused me to be tired in their entirety?  When is it enough?  How much honesty is enough and necessary?

I had a partner once divulge a truth to me.  She felt she was doing the right thing because she was being honest with me about her thoughts and feelings.  I felt her truthful divulgence was hurtful.  I felt she could have told me her truth about how she was feeling without this particular detail.  Is complete and full disclosure necessary, or healthy, even in committed intimate relationships?  Her truth was that when she masturbates, she imagines herself with other people.  Was it absolutely necessary I know this information or could she have just told me she’s feeling unsatisfied with our relationship; that she has needs I am no longer meeting?  That truth would have been hard enough to process, was the supporting detail necessary as well?

Do we expect too much? Is full disclosure even possible?  Is it possible to share every thought, every emotion and every action?  And again, is it necessary?  Is there no such thing as a private thought?  Can you still have private thoughts and be considered honest?  I just don’t know anymore…

A Change in Perspective

Days turn into nights that turn into other days.  Quickly it all becomes a blur, I get lost in all the movement, lose focus, lose purpose.  Then there are moments, like today at the park that my perspective shifts.  I saw him differently today, even if only for a few moments.

Every day I wake to this child, I fall asleep to this child and everything in between is centered around this child, one way or another.  It is safe to say, and also sad to say that sometimes I do not really see him for who he is but rather just another task on my list of to-do’s:  wake him up, feed him, medicate him, bathe him, dress him, bring him to school, pick him up from after-school care, feed him, educate him, discipline him, ready him for bed, medicate him, tuck him in.  I can definitely get lost in the motions, lose sight of the reason behind those motions.

Today I looked at him with fresh eyes.  I saw how his face lights up when he thinks he did something funny.  I saw happiness in him as he laughed, at my expense however, to the thing he found funny.  I watched him after that, and marveled at his resilience.  After everything he’s been through, he is still just a small boy that finds so much joy in climbing a tree.  I watched him up there, no easy feat to get where he was, and saw the pride of accomplishment emanating from him.  I saw him glow when he alerted a passerby to his whereabouts and her face contorted into shock and I chuckled when she glowered at me with disapproval.  I later listened to his passionate rant about finding cigarette butts on the playground, because whoever left them there was breaking the rules.  You see, our park is a “tobacco free zone” per city ordinance.  There’s a big sign announcing this as you enter.  He could not fathom why they would break the rules.  “They can be ARRESTED!!” he proclaims, loudly.  And I smile at this personality quirk of his, this need of knowing and following rules because it only applies to rules that make sense to him.  Then I thought back to earlier in the day, when he asked me to join him for lunch.  I remembered the longing in his eyes and the excitement he could not contain when he saw me waiting for him by the cafeteria.  And the immediate concern he showed when he realized I had a bandage on my arm.  Waiting in the lunch service line, I was showered with hugs and kisses and while eating in our own special booth, I received cuddles- in front of his peers.

I know these moments of clarity are fleeting, that sometimes one can’t help but get swallowed up in the chaos of the days.  But I realized today, the most important to-do on that task list is to love him.  And I do.  And I think he knows that.  Or at least, I hope he does.

I Thought You Might Be Wondering...

Yesterday I was full of angst.  I was idling, wasting time waiting to go to work when I recognized the dread.  I do not want to go there; I do not want to be there.  There is no redeeming value for me, no qualities about my job that I find rewarding or endearing.  I go because of the paycheck.  Upon recognizing this fact, I felt discouraged.  You see, I do not give a damn about money.  It really holds no value for me aside from the necessity of it to survive in this society.  I consider it a necessary evil.  As much as I would like to move to a commune somewhere and live off the land, unfortunately I am too familiar with this way of life, this hustle and bustle and I’m not sure I would do well with that kind of transition.  Plus, I know nothing of gardening; it’s all I can do to keep a spider plant alive.  And forget about carpentry, I would end up sleeping in a ragtag lean to.  I’m not sure what kind of value I would bring to a commune, so it’s really only a fantasy of an idea.  With that being understood, I now must find a way to better adapt to this capitalistic way of life.  If money is a must, then I must find a way to earn a suitable amount in a way that stirs my soul and challenges my mind.  One thing is for sure; spending most of my day staring at a blank wall and smiling on cue isn’t getting it done.  But what will?  And how can I best make that transition?  Those are the thoughts rattling around in my brain today, just in case you were wondering…