I Can Do Anything

 I feel like surviving what we have been through as a family in the last year, I can survive anything. We really struggled when first starting quarantine. It was such a shock to our system being secluded to home after living such busy lives. But, it wasn't only the fact of suddenly finding ourselves stuck at home that caused the difficulties. It was the unknown. When I was first sent home from work and the kids were first sent home from school, it was for two weeks. The two weeks stretched into 4 then 6 and then indefinitely. The kids still haven't returned to school. They are scheduled to being a two day hybrid in person schooling on 4/19. I returned to work in the office two days per week in July of last year. We just got an email reminding us we are only slated to remain working remotely until the end of June. I'm not sure what the plan is after that, but it was explained we are not necessarily going back to full-time in the office starting in July. More instructions are to come. 

We have adapted in our own ways over the past year. It took me a long time to get go of the time line I had in my head for when this would all end. I don't remember when exactly I did let it go, probably sometime in April last year. Even then, I don't think I would have guessed I'd be still be working from home a year later. Now, it has been so long, it is hard for me to envision being in the office five days a week. Going back will feel like as much of a shock as being sent home was last year. I know I will re-adapt. I feel exhausted from all the adapting I've done since March 2020. But, if I could live through 2020, I can live through anything. 

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One Year Living in a Pandemic

 It has been a full year since the pandemic first hit. I struggled with the anniversary of being sent home from work for two weeks that stretched into more than three months. I sometimes struggle to remember how our life was prior to March of 2020. I struggle coming to terms with things changing once again, as restrictions continue to lessen. Just today we were reminded our ability to telework is good only until June 30th and they are working on a plan for everyone to return safely; those who haven't yet been back in the office full-time. I work from home three days per week and only going into the office on Monday's and Tuesday's. I've gotten used to the schedule and like most people, resist change even when I want it. 

So much has happened since I last made a post here. I had Covid over the holiday's and while I never was sick enough to need medical attention, I was sick for over a week. My sense of smell and my energy were slow to return. Luckily, the kids never exhibited symptoms. Primero brought it home from work. He was sick for one night and lost his sense of smell for a few days. Our relations continues with it's ebbs and flows.

Love Bug and Chickadee have been in virtual school since September. It has been such a struggle, especially for Love Bug. The school board finally decided the parents can decide if they want to send their kids to school in a hybrid approach or keep them virtual. I have chosen the hybrid option. This begins April 19th and I am so glad for that. 

Love Bug was evaluated again for Autism Spectrum Disorder, this time by a facility that focuses solely on Autism. It took nearly two years for Love Bug to be evaluated due to the number of requests. Just prior to starting the testing, the wrap around provider labeled him autistic and he had to change case managers. I didn't really care about the diagnosis, if he is or isn't on the spectrum, I just don't want the constant flip-flopping of services and providers. I feel with this diagnosis from the Center for Autism and Developmental Disabilities, there shouldn't be anymore questions. CADD believes Love Bug is high functioning autistic, or level 1. He is very capable in many ways and because he is so high functioning he is able to mask his challenges. This is also why his diagnosis keeps changing and why some professionals would not assess him as ASD. For me, this is it. This is our diagnosis and there is no need to question it any further. I won't be entertaining the question if he is or if he isn't. I want to focus on helping him learn to deal with the things that frustrate him and help him to better understand social interactions. 

The last few weeks have been rough. I'm not sure why, but Chickadee began having issues, the same one that come and go, but this time she ramped them up a bit. A few weeks ago she threatened to hurt herself. Her case manager came over and wrote a safety plan, instructing me to contact the local crisis intervention service if she mentioned hurting herself again. Two days later she threatened to run away, she tried hurting herself and she threatened her brother. This went on for hours. The crisis intervention mediator suggested she was being manipulative with her behaviors but if she wasn't safe we needed to go to the emergency room. The only problem was, I was home alone with the kids and our van was not working. It began having transmission issues the day before. We ended up taking an Uber, only we got a limo. My first ride in a limo and it's to the hospital. How very 2021.

After two very long days in the hospital psych unit, Chica Marie was sent to an inpatient facility in a neighboring state. I wasn't able to travel with her because I had no way to get there without my van. Last week was a very bleak time. My vacuum stopped working on Sunday while I was trying to clean the house. Chica Marie actually started struggling that same day with wanting to hurt herself. The next day, when Primero had the van out in the evening, it started having trouble and he brought it home. It seemed like an issue with the transmission to me. I found out, a week later once the garage was able to take a look at the van, that it was indeed the transmission and it needed to be rebuilt. On a 5 year old van with less than 43,000 miles on it. Seriously?! I have the absolute WORST luck when it comes to cars! I know I should stop saying that because I'm sure this belief is the reason I am so unlucky, but it is hard to shake! Tuesday evening I ended up in the ED with Chica Marie. If you have never found yourself in a psych unit, let me tell you it is not a place you would want to be intentionally. It is a locked unit, so even though I wasn't a patient, I could not leave without a nurse escort. I could not have my phone or any other electronic device, which left me cut-off from the boys and everyone else. The room had a TV, a bed, a small rolling table, and they brought in a reclining chair for me. It was miserable. But, what was worse was the lack of communication. No updates, no news, nothing. I was going mad just sitting without an idea of what was happening. And I could not leave. Primero took my place briefly so I could go home and shower and change. But, other than those 90 minutes, I was just as stuck as Chica Marie. 

So, tomorrow Chica Marie is coming home. I am happy to have her come home but I am also terrified. I feel very disconnected from her therapy at the inpatient facility. We had one very disappointing family session and one that was a little better. Chica Marie is said to be doing well, but it's literally the only thing she has to do. There are limited expectations and requirements of her there than at home and when she is in school. Mostly, we are wished good luck and I don't have a very good feeling about it. But, it is what it is. 

I don't know when things will feel less hard. I don't know if a return to life as we knew it before Covid is possible. My telework time is set to end June 30th, but I guess that could change. The kids will likely continue a hybrid school system in the fall session, but I guess decisions about that will be made after they see how it goes this spring. I am not sure why I found it so hard to write during this time. Usually, writing is cathartic for me. But, it felt overwhelming to me during quarantine and even after. I lost my voice but I am hoping to find my way back. 

Self Care

 “You can’t pour from an empty cup.”

 

Self-care. I’m probably doing it wrong. Someone telling me I need to take time to care for myself triggers me. It makes me angry. Not because I don’t want to take care of myself, but because the demand that I do is just one more demand on me, one more admonishment to do something I’m probably not doing right or the person wouldn’t have to tell me about it. It never fails, if I am telling someone about how hard virtual schooling has been and how stressful it is to simultaneously be expected to work from home, the response is “What do you do to take care of you?” Because adding more things to my ever-growing list of stuff I’m not doing or not doing enough is going to help. Let’s be real here. Things are not easy right now. Our world got up-ended in March and it is still weeble-wobbling around unsettled. I had been working on getting additional child care options prior to Covid. I had mostly gotten all my plates spinning in the same direction and it was manageable. But, quarantine smashed them all to the ground. So, now I am trying to patch it all back together, but we have some missing pieces. I think what bugs me the most about someone questioning my self-care is what they don’t know. I make a point to have time to sit and relax at night when the kids go to bed. I clean my house so I can stay sane. I have been getting up and doing yoga every weekday morning for about three months now. I have found a meditation app and I use it almost every weekday morning. Once a week I take a soaking bath in Epsom salts. I shower regularly and I am constantly trying to eat healthier (of course I slip up a lot, but I’m learning to forgive myself and so should you). I have set my phone to dim at a certain time at night, reminding me to make my way to bed. I am not doing nothing! But, life is like a sieve. The more I dumb in, the more runs out. I just haven’t reached a catch up point. I would need like a two-week, kid-free all expenses paid vacation and that just hasn’t materialized. So, I keep making an effort to do the things I can do and add other things when I can afford them and make the time to make it happen. Ironically, I find it stressful finding a reliable option for child care so I can do some of the extra stuff, which is another reason I hold back. I think, rather than adding to the load when things are hard, it might be more helpful to offer support. Is there anyone or anything that can help you take care of yourself? Don’t add more pressure or demands – hey you! Take care of yourself dammit! Anyway, aren’t we all just doing the best we can right now?

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Covid Scare

 We had our first covid scare. Friday, the kid's therapist contacted me stating she was going to get tested. We had plans for Chica Marie's friend to spend the night on Saturday. I text the mom and let her know what was going on. I also text my supervisor because my job is pretty strict about contact tracing. She was getting her test expedited and hoped to have the results by Sunday evening. Work wanted me to self-quarantine pending the results. If the results were positive, I needed to get tested and have my doctor fill out a form before I could return to work. The kids would also need to be tested. Fortunately, the results came back early, on Saturday, and they were negative. We were able to resume our lives without quaranting. But, there was a lot of confusion regarding what was my responsibility (do I tell the daycare or does she, since she had been seeing the kids there?) and what was the exact protocol. I am so glad the test was negative. 

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Multi-tasking

 A few weeks ago I was tasked with presenting information in a virtual staff meeting. When my supervisor asked me about it I groaned. The meeting is held on a Wednesday morning, which means I would be working from home. This means there is a very high likelihood something embarrassing will happen when it is my turn to present. I did my best to prepare, had the paper with what I wanted to say in front of me. I warned the children that I would be in my meeting and they could not disturb me or make noise. I asked them to quiet the dogs if they started to bark. I held my breath, unmuted my microphone and started my video. As I began presenting, Love Bug sidled up to me and climbed into my lap, tapping my cheek and trying to get my attention. I hugged him, held his hand and continued without breaking my stride. Not to be out-done, the cat, who is not allowed on the table, sashayed across my laptop in front of the video several times while my full focus and attention were on presenting the information professionally. Love Bug began humming and tried to pry the headphone from my ear. I snuggled him closer, pressed the headphone tighter into my ear and finished my presentation without missing a beat. I was pretending that none of those things were happening. Pay no mind to the man behind the curtain! But, the site administrator called attention to the chaos and applauded my ability to multi-task. I was just grateful everyone remained quiet during my presentation. This isn’t the first time I have had to summon my ability to simultaneously handle something happening in front of me while continuing to engage professionally. This is working from home as a single parent. It is our new normal for as long as virtual meetings are occurring. I’ve done my best to make peace with it. I try not to get frustrated with my kids when they interrupt, but sometimes it makes me batty trying to continually split my attention. What is even more worrisome to me is my inability to do just one thing at a time. I have been trying to meditate in the mornings but I find myself unable to *just* meditate, not meditate and eat my breakfast or meditate and get my laptop booted up for the day or meditate and check the kids school schedule. I don’t sit and watch a show, I am reading or on my cell phone at the same time. I am folding laundry and watching a video and talking to one of my kids. Part of it is my need to be productive because when I slack off the work just piles up. Some of it is because I am a single parent and I have to be able to handle multiple tasks simultaneously. But, a lot of it is the societal need to be busy and that even extended into quarantine during a global pandemic. I am thankful I was able to maintain my focus during the virtual staff meeting, but I am hoping to break my multi-tasking habits for a mentally healthier me.

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Until I'm 19

 I don’t remember how the conversation started, but the kids and I were talking about who would take Primero’s bedroom when he moves out (not something that is happening anytime soon, just an eventual inevitability). The kids each tried to stake a claim for Primero’s bedroom but I told them I would likely move into his room. I’m not 100% certain I will move, but the room is larger than mine so it has some appeal. Chica Marie was satisfied with taking over my room but was dismayed when I told her the TV would not be staying. Love Bug, realizing he would be in a bedroom by himself for the first time in his life responded to his sister’s plea for the TV by stating “we need it downstairs.” “We?” I asked incredulously. “There is no ‘we’ moving downstairs, just me.” “But who will I sleep with?!” Love Bug wailed. “You will be a big boy and sleep by yourself. How long do you think you will be sleeping with me?” I asked, hoping to appeal to his rationale side. “Um, until I’m 19,” he responded. And there you have it. This child has zero plans on sleeping in his own bed anytime soon. So, now I need to decide if it’s a habit I want to work really, really hard on breaking or just concede to 13 more years of Love Bug’s feet prying apart my ribs….

 

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A Note to Bullies

 During the Covid quarantine, as the time stuck-at-home increased beyond my initial imagination, I decided to start diving inward and work on the stuff that seems to hold me back in life. Maybe it’s a weird time to get so introspective, but it’s been working for me. One of the things that bubbled to the surface was how much I let the pain from childhood bullying still haunt me as an adult. One of the therapists in the women’s empowerment group I attend accused me of still thinking of myself as a victim. I am not a victim. She suggested I write a letter to my childhood bullies as the adult I am today. So, I did. And when I read it to the group they insisted I share what I wrote publicly. So, I am sharing it here and I might share it to my social media, but I’m starting here where I am (mostly) anonymous.

 

Dear Childhood Bullies,

 

    For far too long I have allowed you to take up space in my head. I have allowed you to mentally torment me for years. I have swallowed your words, ingested them and made them my own. Those painful poisonous barbs have become so imbedded in my psyche that they have become my inner voice. The voice that tells me I am not good enough, not worthy. The voice that viciously dissects every perceived imperfection. The nasty voice that repeats the vile epitaphs you called me with such distain – fat cow, beached whale, fat and ugly. Does it make you feel good to tear another person down like that? To reduce their humanity to their body shape? Surely you do this to hide your own deficits. But, when I was younger I didn’t know that. All I wanted was friendship, to belong. Why did you deny me? Why did you hurt me? How could you take such pleasure in my pain? Why was I your target? I am sure by now you have found you reap what you sow. As for me, I am done allowing you to hurt me. I am evicting your mean, uncaring, untrue words from my head and heart. You can fuck all the way off. You can take your small-minded, pathetic opinions with you. My self-worth isn’t dependent upon the shape of my body and you are one fucked up loser to think that way. You don’t deserve to lick the bottom of my shoes because you are weak and nasty and unkind. All things that I am not. What a sad life you must live! What a pitiful existence for you to only get your jollies from putting someone else down. It says a lot more about you than it does about me. I am strong and beautiful and kind but you are too bigoted and close-minded to even see that. What a terrible existence! It must really suck now that I have tossed you out. But, being a typical bully you will likely find someone else to torture. How broken you must be inside to take so much pleasure in someone else’s pain! Back then I never felt strong enough to stand up to you. I let your words and low opinions of me crush my soul. I took what you said to heart. I believed you when you told me I was ugly and fat and worthless because I started wearing a bra in third grade. You put your hands on my and made me feel dirty. You had no right to touch me! Not ever! You, the only high schooler on the bus, made fun of my lunch box, called me tubby and made riding the bus total hell. No one was there to stop you but guess what asshole? I can stand up for myself right now and if I could I would tell you to your face what a dickhead you are. You will no longer hurt me, make my cheeks burn with embarrassment as you callously encouraged the other kids to make fun of me. You intimidated me back then but now I see you for what your are – a loser trying to assert his power because he felt powerless. Fuck you! Did you feel big picking on a girl three years younger than you? How fucking pathetic! Grown up me can do something adolescent me could not. Grown up me would go toe-to-toe and let you know you picked the wrong bitch. Oh the whole bus would hear my mouth telling you to grow a pair and pick on someone your own size. Why were you the only high school kid on our bus? Were you not able to pass the driver’s license test? Had no friends willing to give you a ride home? I wonder why that might be? You would not want to mess with adult Empty Arms. You would not get the satisfaction of seeing me cry. You would not leave that fight unscathed. The same kids you taught to make fun of my would be making fun of you. The tables would be turned. I would not shrink away and try to block out the sound of your voice. I would not let your awful words penetrate deep inside my heart. Instead, I would roar in protest. I would call out your lies. I would eviscerate your logic. You would not stand a chance against me. I have grown and this whale can end you with one flick of her tale. I am not little and meek. I am not hiding. Your power is gone. Now everyone can see you for the coward that you are. Your words have no place in my head. They are lies and I have learned out to dig them out. I am worthy, no matter my size. I am enough, just as I am. My inner beauty is abundantly clear. Take your demons and be gone. Fuck off.

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