Sorry for sleeping tablet. I had to take. The last part I had to try edit because it had become incoherent.
If you truly care about my children, I’ll password protect those posts and you can feel free to comment or send an email asking for the password.
There’s one reader, just one reader who has brought me back. How ironic because this is the conversation I had with a friend on the day I put my posts in to my drafts folder after having started by deleting a few.
To give context, the “I know you’re in now” was referring to her about to write an exam. And “The witches” doesn’t refer to the commenter who chased me away. I was telling her in previous voice notes that I was leaving the blogging world because of ra combination of factors.
Firstly, I don’t know who IS reading this. I don’t know which malevolent relatives are watching and mocking. As you know, an aunt of mine who I used to love with all my heart, said we should not have adopted. And that because we did, God sent us twins as a curse to punish us. She said other things but as a f
ake Christian mother, my dragging it mush and to do mission work in Tanzania so that he too would be unemployed like me was a crime. Cos you know, I adopted and finances the long road trip to East Africa on my own,bullying my poor husband…But the children diatribe one just showed her witchy heart. That is one of the witches I’m taking about.
There’s a woman who flirted with my husband who used to ask him about my blog contents, asking if she can visit our home and learn more about the veganism I was posting about. Funny how she never asked ME nor commented or made herself known.🙄So pouring out my soul, sharing the reality of special needs, chronic pain, knowing there are messed up people reading is bad already. But going fully private doesn’t work. Because then how will I encourage the one who might find encouragement if only certain pre-vetted readers can read?
Which brings us to the other thing I had said to my friend who asked if I want only those with my challenges to respond. With my previous blog, and my posts on Facebook, I got feedback. I knew my ramblings were blessing just ONE. The healthy mom who used to read my Facebook IBS posts when I couldn’t sleep and would tell me how it’s blessed her because it helps her thank God more sincerely about her health. Or the mom of a young autistic son who said under one blog post that she no longer felt guilty about not going to church on Sabbaths because I made it clear that God wants a relationship with us, first and foremost. Not my just ticking a box by going to church but then not gaining anything because I was in too much pain (my back) to hear much and worried about my son who would be whimpering because “they changed the chairs. Please put them back.”
I needed to know that anyone-be it a healthy mom if neurotypical children, a young man, or a mom of an autistic child, was getting SOME thing positive. That would off-set the harmful responses I’ve been getting. If you didn’t see the post I am referring to, I shared how some autistic adults who are negatively affected by eye contact shared during a workshop, HOW it affected them. Some couldn’t focus on what was being spoken if they had to look into the speaker’s eyes at the same time. One said eye contact made them feel anxious. One non-verbal (I know it’s contentious amongst adult autistics but some say they don’t mind so I’ll just use non verbal and sometimes non-speaking) typed that he reads emotions through people’s eyes. And the amount of emotion from the speaker was overwhelming and almost painful for him to hear. One said that he could see words coming out the eyes in black font and that it creeped him out, so he didn’t look.
I didn’t even go into what some autistics say about the impacts of eye contact in groups such as “Ask me, I’m autistic” that I’m in. I know what I’m talking about.
But the ONLY response I got was a well-adjusted autistic , “Hmmm, I’ve never heard of such a reaction to eye contact. Only that it’s not good for neurotypicals to want to force it. Nevertheless, I’m glad your daughter is letting you get close to her.” (Paraphrased)
This person is autistic. As the saying goes, “when you’ve met one sitters person, you’ve met one autistic person. They don’t share the same symptoms or signs as another autistic does. And the level of support one needs is different to another. Some purely have autism. Others have global delays, auditory processing disorder, ADHD and other challenges on too of the autism. I mean seriously! Some autistics can’t speak, others can’. I bet she has not met all the autistics in the world. But for that to be the only response after a shoot post about my girl making eye contact just deflated me. It came across as if she’s saying no autistic would feel the way they claim they do- be safe SHE has never come across it. I’ve had discussed IBS-C for 21 years. I haven’t met Angie. With my symptoms, but I know they are out there!
Was contemplating making my autism and other special need post password protected. That way, my witchy aunt can’t throw more ammo at me. I will email Clara -always supporting, always liking posts, with the passwords to get into the password protected posts. And anyone who comments below posts wanting the passwords
And one blogger, lover of children, did just that. Made it worth it again And she did it when I came to the blog to come and say that I can’t keep quiet. I took Tramadol before going to sleep. Just one tablet because I hate taking meds. Also , I’m Black, I know they’ll think I’m just drugstore narcotic addict . But here I am (so far from 11pm and now typing at 00:37) in extreme pain. Tossing and turning so much that I woke my poor husband. Who incidentally I’ve already been waking up because when I do manage to sleep, I’ve been having nightmares and he has to move me to get me out of the bad dream. I talk, I cry, I moan, I shout. I’m pretty sure it is the physical pain bleeding into my sleep.
Back to my point. When I’m suffering, when I’m extremely happy, my outlet is writing. I don’t even have words of wisdom to share. It’s just to say that I’m writhing in pain. Even my FEET are sore today. My back, my hips, and of course, my burning elbow are all working in concert with an IBS flare. Made the mistake of drinking a spinach drink that had apple mixed in it. (Hey, Monash said I can have a bit of Apple safely. I guess it was too much, even though I didn’t finish the juice.) I’m in extreme pain. I know it’s because I exercised too. When I exercise as I’d like to, my back complains. I’m usually in bad pain by 9am. Try cooking while internally screaming. Try parenting with a sole while pretending each voice isn’t adding to the burden.
It’s somehow possible. It is possible to fake being ok the entire day. To want to cry while cleaning your child’s room but turn around and smile when your autistic three year old comes in and pulls at your hand that’s holding the mop and you HAVE to leave the room undone because “Wow! She’s never come into a room and disturbed me before! She usually waits till she sees me when I enter HER space!”
I know many moms lose it and yell. I also know moms who don’t want to. Who feel bad when they do. One of my friends hates herself when she does because it’s not even that her child has been that naughty, but the pain she’s in overwhelms her, gives her a shorter fuse ( That reduction of the number of spoons that I mentioned) and what would make her react calmly when not in pain, causes her to lash out when in pain. I encourage THAT kind of mom who wants to stop yelling.
It’s somehow possible. I remember talking to the radiologist when she was doing my mammogram. She was asking what I do and I told her I homeschool my six children. She said, “And I can tell you’re not a mom like me. You’re not a shouting mom. I can feel it.”
Try it. I’m not perfect. My child said they’d die if I raised my voice to them.
I don’t know what she saw, what she felt. But I agree. I’m going or be non- PC Black cashiers I meet tell unasked questions, criticizing my hair.
Why the blog? It’s my outlet. It’s my online counseling service. I will pass word protect and ask in mommenr. the posts on the challenges I’m facing
Sorry for the post. The sleeping pill is taking its toll. Time to try sleep again.