Two words.
DAY
SHIFT
Goodness me
This encompasses me waking up at the time of the vampire...0450 hours to get ready and moving. Eat, and out the door. Lunch is already packed and ready to go the night before because I know that I'll forget something the next day. I promise it.
I was in a good mood today, until I went to my first call. Yelled at, spit on, berated and called names, on the way to the hospital we go. I may have giggled a bit at all of the craziness of it, and all of the medical staff that I tend to see who I almost know by name say the same thing "you again?" "do you work here now?" "GOD, who did you bring in now?" I wish I could say that I bring in nice customers for the hospital staff....but then I would be lying at and Im not good at that.
The day just seemed to get worse. Everyone is tired. Fed up, overworked, short staffed. I feel like I've written about this before.
I was patiently waiting for two phone calls today; one at 1 pm from the Social Worker at my sons school, and the second call at 3 pm from the agency I applied to get a dog for my son. A therapy dog, but not a dog that is trained yet. OH yea, did I mention I would probably train the dog? I keep saying deeeeeeppp breaths Nicole..deeeeeppp breaths.
Social worked didn't call, which was fine because I was filing out paperwork to get my son some support from the Children's Hospital. Then my phone rang again, it was the dog agency. We chatted and the dog I had chosen was not really suitable for what we needed him to do with my son. That's ok I said, and we chatted more. Then, it came up. THE question that I always answer honestly but dread writing it down on any sheet or survey or questionnaire about my son. You see, there's a section called "Self Harm", and I am so reluctant to answer it sometimes because theres this stigma with the two words self harm. People think self harm, they think of people who cut themselves, who have mental issues, who use razors or blades to mark their skin. How can you explain self harm when it comes to a 7 year old autistic boy?
Jacob started self harming when he was 4 1/2, and he was still in Kindergarten. The teacher at his first grade school noticed it when he would get mad, or frsutrated. He would bite his own arm, and try and take a huge chunk out of it. Kids would scream, blood would be drawn, and lo and behold I would end up in some case management conference with the teacher and the administration staff staring at me and wondering how often I must beat my child for him to have such anger issues.
How angry would you be if your mother did illicit drugs while you were in the womb? How angry would you be if your new family that you thought was the only family you've ever had, all of a sudden is broken up, and then you're moving with your mother, and your father no longer sees you? How angry would you be because no kid wants to be your friend, or play with you, and your best friends are Legosm your sister, and your mother? How angry would you be if you don't get your way and can't possibly understand why rules apply to you as well?
This is Jacob.
Jacob kept biting himself, and I remember the CAS worker saying to me when we adopted him, he may have some issues related to his mother's pregnancy, and he may have some issues that we don't even know about because we she didn't disclose her medical history. What mother doesn't do that? I shake my head as I write this. Jacob then started biting other kids, and he was now always with a teacher, one on one, and seemed to be getting better. Then the hitting started. It was like "well, it is a little normal for kids to try their luck and hit other kids to express themselves and broaden their boundaries" said one teacher. But, for him to smack everyone all the time, was a huge issue. My son, who can be unbeliveable sweeet and caring, was not invited to any of the birthday parties at his first school.
We went to the second school, and well, he was around some very unfavourable characters in his class, and he and the other two stooges would just instigate the crap out of everything. He has friends! WAIT. NO. These are not the kids we want you to hang around with. When one of the mothers came to pick up one of the kids one day at day care after school, I could hear her drop every swear word I can even think of, and then called this poor boy, an idiot and to grab your shit, we going home loser. WOOOOOOOWWW. I remember looking at her, and she looked at me and said "what you looking at snob?" Of course, anyone who knows me and reading this now would say OH NO, for the well being of this mother, but I cooly said "no wonder why your son ain't got no friends. He learns his manners from a gorilla."
WHAT???!!
Yep, that was it, she stormed off and told the Principal the next day that she didn't want her son hanging around that so and so kid Jacob. So, apparently I was the one that lost him a friend in Senior Kindergarten. UH, ok.
The no invites to birthday parties continued and Jacob would come home on the bus and cause some sort of ruckus and he would get kicked off the bus for a week, and then made to sit with his sister, again. Who may I add was already tired of hanging around him all the time, and wanted her own friends. Jacob would get to school, meltdown, and guess who the Principal would call? Not me, but his sister Leighton. Now, what is a 7 year old going to do to help her brother. She would come home in tears all the time, because Jacob would call her names when she was trying to help and they would keep calling her down to the office and my daughter would just dread school. Thankfully Jacob stopped biting others, but kept on with the biting himself.
Then the scratching came. He would come home with scratches all over his arms and his face, and look me dead in the eyes and lie and say some other kid did it. I was beside myself. Then I found out it was him doing it and I was even more worried.
You see when I'm at work, and I have a call with someone who self harms, it scares the shit out of me. Only because I see these people suffering in pain, trying to control themselves someway somehow and the only way they see that they can is to pick up a box cutter, or a razor and cut their arms, legs, wrists, calves. I watch the pain well up in their tears, and flow down to the open wounds, and fall to the ground. I watch the tears mix with the blood as I hold the wounds with my gloved hands and tell them its ok, Paramedics are on their way, I'm sorry you're suffering inside. And I feel like most of the time they believe me, that I do understand their pain. I do understand that they need to do it, to feel in control. And then I equate that need to my son and what he must feel like he can and cannot do. I often wonder if I'm too hard sometimes on him, making him do chores and scolding him for interrupting but then I think, he needs to be a good member of this society, and he is reflection of me. I can't stop parenting.
Jacob then moved onto choking himself. And then saying at the same time, "I fucking hate you! Fuck you, I'm going to kill myself!"
Where does a 6 year old learn that from? God knows I don't swear in front of my kids (often) and I have never said I would kill myself. It's so hard to hear that, and sometimes when teachers tell me that he's said or done these things, I think, am I the crazy one? Do I need an assessment? Because I don't think I have ever heard my son talk like that, ever. I usually panic first, and then listen to the rest of the story. Jacob had a rough day.....he said he wanted to die. OH. OK. Is that normal? not really, but to an autistic kid its control and completely normal.
Today, I got my usual phone call, "I'm sorry you're at work, Nicole, but Jaocb had a rough block today, and tried to choke himself again with his sweatshirt. I am sitting at the work station at the Station on Elgin Street, and trying to keep my head and then not cry in front of everyone, and then not let anyone notice that I'm upset. I sigh. Heavy. And then she says, he did have a good end of day.......some solice I think? I thanked her and hung up. I went out to my cruiser, and bawled my eyes out. Like the ugly sobbing cry again. And then my friend called me and allowed me to feel like I was able to cry, in my cruiser, and to cry it all out. She said you're allowed to have a bad day Miller, you know that right? I chuckled, I guess so.
I guess you get used to just working hard and sucking it up and not asking for help at all. You out on this facade, and pretend that you are doing ok, and then inside you are struggling and crying quietly because you don't think anyone will understand. God knows they already look at you funny when your son walks around with a hockey helmet on all the time becuase he likes how it feels. I'm used to the stares for my son, not so much for my sadness.
Momma Bear
DAY
SHIFT
Goodness me
This encompasses me waking up at the time of the vampire...0450 hours to get ready and moving. Eat, and out the door. Lunch is already packed and ready to go the night before because I know that I'll forget something the next day. I promise it.
I was in a good mood today, until I went to my first call. Yelled at, spit on, berated and called names, on the way to the hospital we go. I may have giggled a bit at all of the craziness of it, and all of the medical staff that I tend to see who I almost know by name say the same thing "you again?" "do you work here now?" "GOD, who did you bring in now?" I wish I could say that I bring in nice customers for the hospital staff....but then I would be lying at and Im not good at that.
The day just seemed to get worse. Everyone is tired. Fed up, overworked, short staffed. I feel like I've written about this before.
I was patiently waiting for two phone calls today; one at 1 pm from the Social Worker at my sons school, and the second call at 3 pm from the agency I applied to get a dog for my son. A therapy dog, but not a dog that is trained yet. OH yea, did I mention I would probably train the dog? I keep saying deeeeeeppp breaths Nicole..deeeeeppp breaths.
Social worked didn't call, which was fine because I was filing out paperwork to get my son some support from the Children's Hospital. Then my phone rang again, it was the dog agency. We chatted and the dog I had chosen was not really suitable for what we needed him to do with my son. That's ok I said, and we chatted more. Then, it came up. THE question that I always answer honestly but dread writing it down on any sheet or survey or questionnaire about my son. You see, there's a section called "Self Harm", and I am so reluctant to answer it sometimes because theres this stigma with the two words self harm. People think self harm, they think of people who cut themselves, who have mental issues, who use razors or blades to mark their skin. How can you explain self harm when it comes to a 7 year old autistic boy?
Jacob started self harming when he was 4 1/2, and he was still in Kindergarten. The teacher at his first grade school noticed it when he would get mad, or frsutrated. He would bite his own arm, and try and take a huge chunk out of it. Kids would scream, blood would be drawn, and lo and behold I would end up in some case management conference with the teacher and the administration staff staring at me and wondering how often I must beat my child for him to have such anger issues.
How angry would you be if your mother did illicit drugs while you were in the womb? How angry would you be if your new family that you thought was the only family you've ever had, all of a sudden is broken up, and then you're moving with your mother, and your father no longer sees you? How angry would you be because no kid wants to be your friend, or play with you, and your best friends are Legosm your sister, and your mother? How angry would you be if you don't get your way and can't possibly understand why rules apply to you as well?
This is Jacob.
Jacob kept biting himself, and I remember the CAS worker saying to me when we adopted him, he may have some issues related to his mother's pregnancy, and he may have some issues that we don't even know about because we she didn't disclose her medical history. What mother doesn't do that? I shake my head as I write this. Jacob then started biting other kids, and he was now always with a teacher, one on one, and seemed to be getting better. Then the hitting started. It was like "well, it is a little normal for kids to try their luck and hit other kids to express themselves and broaden their boundaries" said one teacher. But, for him to smack everyone all the time, was a huge issue. My son, who can be unbeliveable sweeet and caring, was not invited to any of the birthday parties at his first school.
We went to the second school, and well, he was around some very unfavourable characters in his class, and he and the other two stooges would just instigate the crap out of everything. He has friends! WAIT. NO. These are not the kids we want you to hang around with. When one of the mothers came to pick up one of the kids one day at day care after school, I could hear her drop every swear word I can even think of, and then called this poor boy, an idiot and to grab your shit, we going home loser. WOOOOOOOWWW. I remember looking at her, and she looked at me and said "what you looking at snob?" Of course, anyone who knows me and reading this now would say OH NO, for the well being of this mother, but I cooly said "no wonder why your son ain't got no friends. He learns his manners from a gorilla."
WHAT???!!
Yep, that was it, she stormed off and told the Principal the next day that she didn't want her son hanging around that so and so kid Jacob. So, apparently I was the one that lost him a friend in Senior Kindergarten. UH, ok.
The no invites to birthday parties continued and Jacob would come home on the bus and cause some sort of ruckus and he would get kicked off the bus for a week, and then made to sit with his sister, again. Who may I add was already tired of hanging around him all the time, and wanted her own friends. Jacob would get to school, meltdown, and guess who the Principal would call? Not me, but his sister Leighton. Now, what is a 7 year old going to do to help her brother. She would come home in tears all the time, because Jacob would call her names when she was trying to help and they would keep calling her down to the office and my daughter would just dread school. Thankfully Jacob stopped biting others, but kept on with the biting himself.
Then the scratching came. He would come home with scratches all over his arms and his face, and look me dead in the eyes and lie and say some other kid did it. I was beside myself. Then I found out it was him doing it and I was even more worried.
You see when I'm at work, and I have a call with someone who self harms, it scares the shit out of me. Only because I see these people suffering in pain, trying to control themselves someway somehow and the only way they see that they can is to pick up a box cutter, or a razor and cut their arms, legs, wrists, calves. I watch the pain well up in their tears, and flow down to the open wounds, and fall to the ground. I watch the tears mix with the blood as I hold the wounds with my gloved hands and tell them its ok, Paramedics are on their way, I'm sorry you're suffering inside. And I feel like most of the time they believe me, that I do understand their pain. I do understand that they need to do it, to feel in control. And then I equate that need to my son and what he must feel like he can and cannot do. I often wonder if I'm too hard sometimes on him, making him do chores and scolding him for interrupting but then I think, he needs to be a good member of this society, and he is reflection of me. I can't stop parenting.
Jacob then moved onto choking himself. And then saying at the same time, "I fucking hate you! Fuck you, I'm going to kill myself!"
Where does a 6 year old learn that from? God knows I don't swear in front of my kids (often) and I have never said I would kill myself. It's so hard to hear that, and sometimes when teachers tell me that he's said or done these things, I think, am I the crazy one? Do I need an assessment? Because I don't think I have ever heard my son talk like that, ever. I usually panic first, and then listen to the rest of the story. Jacob had a rough day.....he said he wanted to die. OH. OK. Is that normal? not really, but to an autistic kid its control and completely normal.
Today, I got my usual phone call, "I'm sorry you're at work, Nicole, but Jaocb had a rough block today, and tried to choke himself again with his sweatshirt. I am sitting at the work station at the Station on Elgin Street, and trying to keep my head and then not cry in front of everyone, and then not let anyone notice that I'm upset. I sigh. Heavy. And then she says, he did have a good end of day.......some solice I think? I thanked her and hung up. I went out to my cruiser, and bawled my eyes out. Like the ugly sobbing cry again. And then my friend called me and allowed me to feel like I was able to cry, in my cruiser, and to cry it all out. She said you're allowed to have a bad day Miller, you know that right? I chuckled, I guess so.
I guess you get used to just working hard and sucking it up and not asking for help at all. You out on this facade, and pretend that you are doing ok, and then inside you are struggling and crying quietly because you don't think anyone will understand. God knows they already look at you funny when your son walks around with a hockey helmet on all the time becuase he likes how it feels. I'm used to the stares for my son, not so much for my sadness.
Momma Bear
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