Atypical

“You know I’m not normal.”

I say this to my mom. She just looks at me with those eyes that say a million things. The only thing I see in them in that moment is agreement. She’s known since I was just little that I’m not your average kid.

I have Googled and researched myself trying to figure out exactly where I stand in this world. I want a label to paste to my forehead that says KEEP BACK AT LEAST 5 FEET for a myriad of reasons. A clear enjoyment of my personal space being just the first one.

I think I have Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (OCPD) with a touch of sensory processing issues, possibly Asperger’s Syndrome. I can’t diagnose myself on Google. As wonderful of a tool as the internet is, it isn’t a trained professional.

So, in order to get a diagnosis and possibly a few answers to the impressively all consuming anxiety I’m currently feeling, I’m going to a doctor. On Friday to be exact. I’m going to talk to my family doctor, the one with the compassionate eyes that always asks me after every visit for sinus infections or strep or whatever it is I’m usually there for, “How are you?”. Sometimes I can tell she has been just waiting on me to spill. To tell her how I’m really coping with things. I’ve kept it in for a long time now. Hell, I’m just now telling my mom how I’m really doing. It’s taken me 30 years to admit that something isn’t right and that it’s to the point of being something that is very wrong.

I’ve coped with things up to this point. I coped with middle school and high school where I was teased mercilessly. I coped with moving away from home and starting school in a completely unfamiliar place only to return home within a year. I coped with my parents splitting up and divorcing. I coped with the loss of my little brother shortly thereafter. I coped with drinking my way out of depression. I coped with a miscarriage. I coped with my dad remarrying and adopting 3 girls and then subsequently forgetting about me. I coped with the pregnancy and birth of very premature twins and their following stay in the NICU which left me with what can only be compared to PTSD. I coped with a new marriage followed by the birth of my daughter (only a little early). I coped with the ever increasing abuse, both verbal and then physical, before I finally moved out and divorced the sorry bastard.

I’m coping with raising 3 kids by myself. I’m coping with my twins being recently diagnosed with Autism. I’m coping with doctors and therapists and missing work and cleaning house and constantly worrying about money and trying to cook and trying to learn as much as I can about Autism and losing sleep and trying to date and being dumped repeatedly and getting my boys started in Pre-K and getting evaluations done for services in school and A MILLION OTHER THINGS…

All on top of my own issues. My need for organization and less noise and wash rags grouped by color and fucking perfection. I can’t achieve perfection (or my version of it). I have a NEED to control things. I don’t like surprises or things I don’t know about ahead of time. I just don’t deal well with it.

So, to figure out what’s going on, to figure out if I have finally met the straw that has broken this camel’s back, I’m going to my doctor. I’m going to try to be honest. I’m going to try to tell everything exactly as I see it.

I’m going to ask for a referral to someone who can give me a true diagnosis for what’s not right, what’s atypical, about me. It’s taken seeing my boys given a label, and a place for me to start looking, for me to finally decide that I need a label for myself to give me a jumping off place to start helping myself.

I’ve put my own needs in the background for so long now that they are demanding the spotlight. It’s time to get myself straightened out so that I can help my kids. If I can’t even control myself, how am I supposed to be able to teach them to control their impulses either?

Wish me luck…

This one time...

when my boys were still in the NICU shortly after they were born, I went to visit them. As I was leaving I had the nurse give me a bag of specimen jars to take home. You know the ones that are clear with the blue lid? The children's hospital used them to store breastmilk in so they could be clearly labeled and easily warmed for the babies.

I was riding down in the elevator with a few other people when a woman got on a couple of floors below mine and stood next to me. She glanced over at me and got this strange look on her face. I was a little distracted so I didn't pay too much attention.

After a couple more stops, she turns to me and says, "So, you're part of the clinic, huh?". I said, "I'm sorry, what clinic are you referring to?".

She points to my bag and says, "The fertility clinic.", then smiles this huge awkward grin at me.

I looked at her kinda confused and said, "No, my twins are in the NICU and I put breastmilk in these for the nurses to give to them.".

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized what she was referring to and as soon as it registered what she was asking me, it hit her that she just asked me if I was using an entire big bag of cups for ummm...specimens.

Both of us busted out laughing. Through her tears and laughter she said, "I wondered how in the hell you were gonna bring that many specimens back in here! I felt sorry for your spouse!"

By then the other people in the elevator had caught on to the conversation and they were laughing their asses off, too.

I can't look at a specimen cup now without laughing...

At arm's length...

My son is having some issues with personal space and those who invade it.

Too close, too abrupt, too in-his-face and he’s lashing out. A punch, a kick, a slap, or a scream in your face. Angry eyes and then…tears. He cries the crocodile tears and moans the song of the heartbroken. He doesn’t understand why people keep invading his space. He doesn’t understand why it isn’t okay to remove them from your space with force.

This is a limbo that I know well. I get angry. I build walls. I push people away. I shut down emotionally when it gets to be too much to deal with. I’m in that space right now. Almost at this exact moment. I just want to be alone. I want to be left alone. I want to curl up in a hard place with my back shoved against a wall until I can feel my skin pinched between my bones and the resistance of my soul to intrusion.

People poke at me, try to get me to perk up. I just want to say fuck off and leave me the hell alone. I need space. Even if that space is only the corner of a room where no one is touching me or expecting me to act like I give a flying fuck. Why do I have to care all the time?

I understand my little boy’s need to draw into his head and just focus on one thing. He doesn’t want someone touching him. He doesn’t want to be interrupted when he’s trying to play with his blocks or line up his toys or watch the wheels on his Matchbox cars roll. All he wants is to do that ONE DAMN THING.

I feel like I’m ripped apart at the seams right now. I have a head full of thoughts scattered in a million different directions. I’m trying to learn what I can to help my kids. I’m trying to get things straighten out at the school for their therapies. I’m trying to figure out what I want to do with my life in order to make it easier on all of us. I’m trying to decide if I want to pursue a different option with my education that would allow me to learn more to help my kids while simultaneously learning a career option that would be in high demand in my area. In the middle of all this, I’m worrying about money and keeping the house clean and trying to spend some time with my kids so they don’t feel like I’m ignoring them and trying to figure out what I’m going to do about Christmas this year and a ton of other things that are all pressing on me like an elephant.

Then there’s the other thought that keeps circling like a buzzard over my tired ass…I either need to start talking to a therapist or be put on something to keep me out of the deep dark below because I can see me standing on the precipice of a mental breakdown right now. I’m overwhelmed and I know it and with the holidays coming up, I’m afraid I’m not going to fare very well. There are the other problems that come with it. Where do I cull the time to go talk to someone? I’m running on fumes with my work time and I can’t take any more time off unless it’s absolutely necessary. Outside of work I’m cooking, cleaning, and mothering which might as well be three more full-time jobs.

I need a mental health day away from all my adult problems. I’m dreading what is going to happen when my kids get bigger and have to start dealing with things like this. I’m hoping and praying they have better coping skills by then or I’m going to get hurt.

I guess I just need someone to stop and tell me that everything is going to be okay because right now, it doesn’t feel okay. I don’t feel okay.

The Twins' First Day of School...

You looked back...




And I was smiling...

Why I haven't failed at forever...

I’m divorced. I would have been married 4 years today if we had stayed together.

That doesn’t mean I’ve failed at forever though. I got several things from that relationship that I’ll love for forever, my three kids being the most important.

I’ll know forever that I don’t want a man who would be willing to hurt me, either physically or mentally.

I’ll know forever that I am strong enough to walk away and that I can do it on my own. I can do anything I set my mind to on my own.

I’ll never forget the feeling of walking down the aisle for the first time. Most people only have a first time. I might get to do it again one day, who knows?

I’ll never forget the excitement of finding out I was pregnant, both times.

I’ll always have the memory of how he proposed, even if it did suck.

I learned some hard lessons and for those I can’t say I’m grateful but I can say I will have them for forever.

I will love my children forever and I won’t hesitate to tell them about the happier times when they get bigger. I’ll show them our wedding pictures, tell them about how happy their sperm donor was when they were born, and remind them that without him I wouldn’t have them.

I may not have made a marriage that lasted for forever but I damn sure made some beautiful memories that will.

So, though forever may have failed me a few times, I haven’t failed at forever.

Cellphone story #1

I decided to start a series I'm going to call cellphone stories to send some of my favorite stories I've collected through pictures on my cellphone with you guys. Some of my best memories are grabbed when my phone is the closest camera I can find...

Just to reach you...

I watch you and my heart unfolds.

Tiny hands flutter in excitement, smiles that always touch your eyes, and the softest touch when your fascination exceeds your shyness.

You bound towards others with arms wide open and words tumbling together. I may not be able to understand all the words you say but I usually get the ones you really want me to hear.

I’m making plans for you, my sweet boy. They aren’t big plans like being president or an astronaut. They’re little plans like learning to refer to others by their names and being able to tell me exactly what it is you want when you want it.

I’m putting plans together to teach you. I’m learning new things and I’m trying to implement some new ways to try to reach you the way you need me to.

And I’m determined. I’m set on making for sure that I learn things correctly so that they can help you. I want to be the one who shows you the world in a way that you will enjoy. I love to see that happiness on your face when you discover something new that you love. I don’t want that look to ever go away so I’m trying.

I want to share the world with you, no matter what way I have to do it in. I’ve already given you my heart, now I want to give you the world and all that's beautiful about it.

I won't walk away...

…when I know things won’t be easy.

…when I see you having a sensory crisis.

…when you need me the most.

…because I promised you I’d always be there for you.

…because I’m in this until the end.

…when I’m so stressed I can’t see straight.

…because I’ll need a place to run to when I need someone who won’t walk away from me either.

…when you’re doing things just to embarrass me.

…when you are sad.

…when you want to talk too much.

…when you don’t want to talk at all.

…when you think you don’t want me there but you really do need me there.

…because it’s just not what you do.

…because my momma taught me better than that.

…because I need you as much as you need me.

This is all I will say about this...

Congratulations to my ex-husband who is way behind on child support and hasn't seen his first three children since February on fathering a baby boy with the woman he cheated on me with before we were officially divorced in December.

Congratulations on committing adultery and bringing new life into this world after abandoning the children you fathered before.

Way to go, Deadbeat Dad! You sure are a fucking winner. Bastard.

A letter to my babies...

I’ve heard you since you were just whispers in my soul, dreams of tiny hands and soft sighs. Laughter like wind chimes, babbles and exaggerated stories about dinosaurs.

I’ve seen you since you were glimpses out of the corners of my eyes, fleeting hints of glistening hair and brightly colored socks.

I’ve felt you since you were an invisible weight in my arms, a belly stuffed with food rubbed in imagining.

I’ve smelled you since you were a story told in a retail store after sniffing a bottle of baby wash, one day you’d smell just like this.

But now, here you are. You fill all my senses in ways so amazing that I never imagined them.

You talk to me and say things I never thought I’d hear. From your first word to “Bye, Mommy!”. I hear you now. Really hear you. My ears are trained to listen for some many things I never thought I’d be listening for, like wheezing for asthma or the right word to describe something that you’re holding in your hands that you’ve never been able to tell me before. I hear your laughter and it is so much more magical than I ever imagined. I hear your cries and they shoot straight to my core in ways I never knew possible.

You are right there where I can see you. You’re breathtakingly beautiful. I love your long eyelashes and your bright eyes. You smile and my world is right no matter how wrong it was only moments before. I see you with your arms reached out to me for a hug and I never knew how easy it would be for you to pull my heart right to you. The glistening hair I imagined in my daydreams can’t hold a candle to how beautiful your hair is when it’s streaming behind you as you play in the sunshine.

You went from being an invisible weight in my arms to a real one. A child I could hold, press close to my heart, and play this little piggy with your toes. You wrap your little arms around my neck for the best hugs ever and you lay your sweet heads on my shoulders when you’re sleepy or bashful. You tug on my shirt and you chase me through the house and you crawl around under the table and every step you take is one more towards the wonderful little people I’m watching you become.

I went from smelling your sweet little heads after your baths to smelling your stinky feet after you’ve played outside in the dirt all day. From smelling horrendous dirty diapers to the crisp scent of your shirts when they come out of the laundry. You’ve gone from smelling like baby powder to smelling like apples after your baths and Oreos after you’ve been in your grandma’s kitchen.

You may be changing and growing up but I will never forget how I felt before you were even here and how much more wonderful you are now that you’re no longer just a part of my imagination. I don’t know how I could love you more than I do now but I also know I’ve said that before.

I love you and I love being your mom.