Mix Bakeshop
Soy Decaf Cappuccino
Whiskey Apple something something scone thingy (which was awesome)
Sorry, not a System of a Down reference (sadly). It's list time! It's been eventful lately and I couldn't settle on what to write so here we go.
1. Go fucking vote! Fuck your fucking cowardly cynicism - even if it is valid and based on reality! Vote anyway! You may not change an outcome, but your not-voting definitely will. It makes you a tool of those who want to see your demographic stay home, who want to you stay disaffected and uninvolved. People fucking died for this! They died in the Revolution. They died in the Civil War. They were beaten, falsely imprisoned, hanged! - in the decades of Jim Crow and Women's Suffrage! Show them some fucking respect and get your ass to the poll!
If they give you shit about your address or registration - demand a provisional ballot. If your employer gives you shit, inform them that it's a protected right that they have to give you time to exercise and retaliation is prosecutable offense. I don't care what your other reasonable excuses are - they're reasonable, they're valid - now get the fuck out there and vote anyway!
Okay done.
2. Last night I watched a segment on 60 Minutes where a female reporter was interviewing a fundamentalist British Muslim leader, of some sort or other. At one point in their discussion he said she should wear the hijab. She said something to the effect of, "That's ridiculous." Which is a totally valid reaction that will in no way impact his thinking. But what would? That, to me, is the most unsettling question.
I tweeted later (around 2am - so much for getting that extra Daylight Savings hour for sleeping):
There are two ways you can make me wear a hijab: convince me you're right, or use violent manipulation.
Only one might save my soul.
And I could expound on that, but on to...
3. Henry has a touch of autism.
We finally met with an evaluator from the school district and she said, in her opinion, that is the term that best describes his symptoms right now. Someday down the road a few years, there may be a more succinct diagnosis, or combination of diagnoses. That does not mean we should be trying to make his symptoms go away - no parent should hold on to that, to try to refuse to accept what is. It's not about him being "cured" of autism. It's just that he's 4 years old. He has a lot of developing to do, and how we react and guide his behaviors now can greatly impact his mental terrain in the future. Plus, more distinct behaviors may come to light over time.
One thing I really appreciated her explaining was that the door thing is a soother for him. When he is generally more anxious - like after starting school, or going way off our really loose schedule - he will gravitate towards opening and closing doors to help him calm down. Halloween was crazy with the doors, which brings me to...
4. Halloween! Oliver was an astronaut and Henry was a rock star. So, naturally, Oliver wanted to be a rock star astronaut. We tried to walk in the parade this year since we finally got there in time for the beginning, but it was too much for Oliver. The parade here in Ashland is crazy and wonderful but just too overwhelming for one tiny toddler. He loved the trick-or-treating though. He giggled every time someone put a piece of candy in his bag, because he just could seem to believe this was a legitimate deal.
Mom was a vaguely Steampunk poet again. My hat was spectacular - a top hat with a crow... wearing a top hat! Unfortunately, I didn't like any of the pictures of me and I didn't have the same awesome jacket I had last year because I'm still about 25 pounds heavier than last year. However, I am getting healthier, and that leads me to...
5. Health update: I am not crazy inflamed woman anymore. Also, less crazy, too.
I mentioned in my last fibromyalgia blog that I had my CRP levels checked earlier this year and they showed that I was super-inflamed. Twenty-two point something. I just had them rechecked, and they are not only under the four-point-whatever maximum, they are loooooow. Okay, I forget that number, too, but, still - a 20-point drop? To what do we owe this dramatic change? Unfortunately, I can't quite say. Here's a recap of what I've been doing.
So, last year, I weaned Oliver and started taking Prozac (or Faux-zac, as I called it since it was the generic). Hence, my cool Steampunk jacket not fitting anymore. But it did basically nothing, so I decided to try a diet change-up and tried to drop almost all animal products from my diet (I like my honey). Unfortunately, I didn't sit down with a nutritionist first and structure my diet, and that led to my weight going up even more and, when we checked my CRP, mucho inflammation.
The problem was protein, in this case. I woefully underestimated how much I would need, and I just wasn't getting enough calories during the day. This brought on intense sugar/carb cravings in a desperate attempt to to catch up - and to make my head feel better. Craving sweets is craving serotonin, too. So, as part of my depression and pain treatment, I met up with a dietitian and came up with a 1400 calorie plan. I struggled with it, especially getting the protein. I finally was given a number to shoot for: since I was about 180 lbs by that point, I needed about 65 grams per day. (Oh.) That number will go down as my weight continues to go down again.
I added eggs back and that helped. And here's another interesting factor - with the eggs came more salt. And in my case, that seems to be a good thing. When I was younger my friends used to joke about getting me a salt-lick. No one would share my pop corn (and, in fairness, it was a little too much for me, too, sometimes). But, as un-American as it sounds, I think I've generally been lacking salt throughout my life. I used to get rid of headaches sometimes by pouring salt on my hand and licking it off.
So there's that. And considering that I have wonky nerve functions, and that salt is involved somehow or other with the electro-chemical process, I think there may be a legitimate connection to my fibromyalgia and/or depression/anxiety symptoms. Even if I can't quite explain it all properly. At any rate, more salt (but not too much) makes me feel noticeably better. But there's still a lot of other stuff going on.
I also cut my grain intake - particularly processed grains - way, way down. Half a cup of oatmeal (non-instant) w/my breakfast, and maybe half a cup of rice w/dinner. Two servings a day - that's it. And in between... in addition to a mighty big salad for lunch, I have made it a part of our exploding budget to buy a good green powder mix and a good (non-dairy) protein mix, and I use that concoction to knock down my morning pills.
And, oh, pills...
First, we upped the fish oil (3 grams/day), and in addition to some other tweaks, I added GABA, Kava Kava, and turmeric. I think these last ones have been the final, most important factors in the big turnaround. GABA is good for anti-anxiety and as a muscle relaxer. Then I brought in the kava and it has been the Great Mellower. I am so much better about keeping my cool, and recovering it, with the boys now. (Be careful with the kava, though, should you decide to give it a try. There was a great kerfuffle over it about a decade ago. Just make sure to not take any more than is recommended, and, as always, talk to your doc before taking it.)
The last thing I added was the turmeric. There has been a lot of research coming out lately about its anti-inflammatory properties. I used to take a certain brand a while ago (it had ginger in it, as well, which is another known anti-inflamer... that doesn't sound right... any-hoo) and I could tell that it helped bring down my pain a bit. But I can't get that brand anymore and I don't have as noticeable an effect with the new brands I've tried. But with the emerging data, it seems like it might be the biggest influence on my 20-point drop.
But I don't know. We weren't checking my levels all the way through this last six month change-up, so I can't pinpoint one particular cause for the turnaround. I offer this summary, these clues, because all of these - the diet, the supplements - seemed to have a benefit. So many of my friends are struggling with pain in one form or another. These are some clues to what just might help. Maybe it's all of it together. I wish I could be more definitive. I hope some of it helps.
and the shop is closing. No edits, once again. Good night, and good luck!
Showing posts with label Autism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autism. Show all posts
Monday, November 3, 2014
Monday, August 18, 2014
We're all made of alphabet soup.
Home, again, Home, again.
Peppermint Chamomile Tea
Yeasty Popcorn
I'm blogging early this week because I suspect I may not get my Out Day this weekend. Appointments, sick kiddos, that kind of thing going on... Plus, I need to write tonight, and this is more productive - for all mankind - than getting sucked into Facebook.
And when I say, "I need to write," I mean it. It calms my brain. I usually have a journal at the ready, but that has fallen off lately and is too frequently interrupted during the day to be effective. I feel the difference when I don't get to write. I need it. I have written without light, without a pen, using fingers upon the bedsheets, or even upon the air.
That's just how my mind works, one of its quirks... Maybe there's a label for it. Depression, anxiety, I know, but maybe a little OCD, too. I know I have what they call a "ruminating" mind. As in, I think too much, about everything, all the time. But is there a more specific diagnosis to be made? And how many people qualify for some term of medical distinction?
There's a hazard in finding the term that describes you. As much as it can be comforting to validate your feelings of being abnormal, it can also become your identity. It can limit your view of yourself, your expectations for yourself, and hinder your personal progress. And it can do the same when others know you by your diagnosis. Oh, that's Phil, who's autistic...
When you think about it, that's kind of like saying, Oh, that's Phil, who is thumbs... We all have thumbs, generally speaking. We all have brains. We don't need to put the characteristics of each feature in front of our interactions with the person.
On the other hand, there is something to be said for having a diagnosis, for knowing the lay of the land. Whenever you interact with anyone, you can't know exactly what you're going to get, but you can have certain reasonable expectations. But with someone with a mental illness, you could get something drastically unexpected. So, there's value in being able to calibrate your expectations accordingly, if you are given the opportunity.
And that's our biggest challenge with our son, Henry. We don't have a diagnosis for his quirks, which leaves us wandering almost blind in dark territory. To outsiders, he usually looks like a perfectly normal (and especially adorable) 4 year-old. Even his outbursts likely strike most people as typical 4 year-old tantrums. Often, when I try to explain his behavior, people don't take me too seriously: "Sounds like a toddler to me!"
But Henry is not quite right.
We were almost lucky that he had speech delays because it got us in the system early. By the time of his 2-year check-up, he only used about a dozen words, though he should have had about 50 by then. That got us a referral for an evaluation through the school system, and Henry started meeting with an early intervention teacher.
From the first day, when she showed him how to sign the word "more," his language started taking off. Not only did he master the signed words quickly, but his spoken words increased. He progressed so much that by his next evaluation, he didn't quite qualify for more services. But his teacher advocated for him, saying she felt like he needed a little more help. She knew something was still a little off. We had spoken about autism and she said she didn't think that was it, but he was still pretty young. As she put it, there were indicators, but there were counter-indicators.
Henry is very smart. He picked up his alphabet and his numbers way earlier than most kids. He likes patterns, for things to be a certain way - but only so much. He gets obsessive about things - oh dear god, the doors! Music and sounds are particularly appealing, we discovered. He can become super-focused on something, or listen to the same song, or even the same sound, for extended periods of time. Hours, if we let him. But he can be affectionate and compassionate and will make eye-contact, unlike most autistic kids.
But how he interacts is... a little off. He still does "parallel play" where he's playing around other kids but doesn't really play with them. He interacts better with Oliver, but it's usually Oliver who's directing play. The other day, a little girl from the apartment complex looked Henry square in the eye and asked, "Do you want to play with us?" Henry didn't answer her. He wandered away like no one was there.
[Intermission: It's midnight... Oliver woke up... he coughed, he chatted, he had some juice, he threw up the juice, he asked for a cup of fruit... now he's curled up on the edge of the little bed waiting for Mommy to get off the computer. This is why I don't blog from home.]
What has become most obviously "off," though, is Henry's lack of questions. As Oliver, who will be 3 in less than three months, has become more verbose (he has always been way ahead of other kids his age), it has become apparent what Henry is not doing. It came home for me when, as my husband went banging and cursing around the kitchen, Oliver asked me, "Is Daddy okay? Does Daddy have a boo-boo?" Henry doesn't do that. He will ask if he needs permission for something - "Can I have the MobiGo?" - but I can't think of him ever asking exploratory questions like, "Where are we going?" or "Why does it do that?"
But our biggest problem is dealing with Henry's emotions. Oliver will protest and pitch a fit for something he wants. Henry gets hysterical. Seriously, he looks like he's having a panic attack sometimes. And often, he's freaking out over something like wanting me to help him with a puzzle he can already do by himself. If I say that I have to do dishes right now, he will pull me toward the puzzle table and repeat, "No! You have to match!" - not with a headstrong toddler look, but with a look of great anxiety. The day before he put the puzzle together, start to finish, by himself. But once he gets it in his mind that I need to help him, he can't move forward until I do. Sometimes all I need to do is match two pieces and then he will take over and finish the rest on his own. But if he's in that particular mindset, and I insist on my "no," he may likely scream and cry, or become violent and hit his brother - and he will not let it go. He will shut down, unable to move on with the puzzle on his own, or unable to move on to some other toy.
And most disturbingly, in his nervousness, he hurts himself. He chews his nails (I heard the audible 'snap' tonight, when he thought he saw a fly in his bed), and he will even give himself little cuts by pinching his skin with what's left of his nails. All over his body, but especially on his fingers, there are little red sores from him doing this.
So what's wrong with him? Autism Spectrum? Anxiety disorder? ADHD? OCD? There's a whole alphabet soup floating around him. We just want to know what we're dealing with.
We may not be responsible for the topography of Henry's mind - he was born with that. But the way we deal with Henry, the way we interact - whether we yell, or encourage, or soothe, and show him how to manage his strong emotions - helps to cultivate the landscape of his mind. We are carving out roads, planting trees and far too few flowers, laying the foundations for what his mind will become. This is true with any person, but some minds will always require special care and attention.
[Two days later: Out Day. Mix Bakeshop. 16oz Soy Chai.]
So...
Like I said before, while it's nice to have a diagnosis to illuminate the detour signs, the warnings - "There be dragons here!" - in the end, we have to let people chart their own course and be whoever they are going to be. No diagnosis can decide who they are unless they - and we - let it. After all, no "normal" person is exactly like any other "normal" person, so why would we expect someone with an alphabet soup brain to be exactly like anyone else, even someone with the same letters floating in their bowl? And is there such a thing as a "normal" person, anyway? I think we've all got some flavor of alphabet soup swirling around upstairs.
For my money, given his love of music and repetition, I think Henry's letters are going to end up being DJ.
Maybe DJ Spews-a-lot.... ;)
Peppermint Chamomile Tea
Yeasty Popcorn
I'm blogging early this week because I suspect I may not get my Out Day this weekend. Appointments, sick kiddos, that kind of thing going on... Plus, I need to write tonight, and this is more productive - for all mankind - than getting sucked into Facebook.
And when I say, "I need to write," I mean it. It calms my brain. I usually have a journal at the ready, but that has fallen off lately and is too frequently interrupted during the day to be effective. I feel the difference when I don't get to write. I need it. I have written without light, without a pen, using fingers upon the bedsheets, or even upon the air.
That's just how my mind works, one of its quirks... Maybe there's a label for it. Depression, anxiety, I know, but maybe a little OCD, too. I know I have what they call a "ruminating" mind. As in, I think too much, about everything, all the time. But is there a more specific diagnosis to be made? And how many people qualify for some term of medical distinction?
There's a hazard in finding the term that describes you. As much as it can be comforting to validate your feelings of being abnormal, it can also become your identity. It can limit your view of yourself, your expectations for yourself, and hinder your personal progress. And it can do the same when others know you by your diagnosis. Oh, that's Phil, who's autistic...
When you think about it, that's kind of like saying, Oh, that's Phil, who is thumbs... We all have thumbs, generally speaking. We all have brains. We don't need to put the characteristics of each feature in front of our interactions with the person.
On the other hand, there is something to be said for having a diagnosis, for knowing the lay of the land. Whenever you interact with anyone, you can't know exactly what you're going to get, but you can have certain reasonable expectations. But with someone with a mental illness, you could get something drastically unexpected. So, there's value in being able to calibrate your expectations accordingly, if you are given the opportunity.
And that's our biggest challenge with our son, Henry. We don't have a diagnosis for his quirks, which leaves us wandering almost blind in dark territory. To outsiders, he usually looks like a perfectly normal (and especially adorable) 4 year-old. Even his outbursts likely strike most people as typical 4 year-old tantrums. Often, when I try to explain his behavior, people don't take me too seriously: "Sounds like a toddler to me!"
But Henry is not quite right.
We were almost lucky that he had speech delays because it got us in the system early. By the time of his 2-year check-up, he only used about a dozen words, though he should have had about 50 by then. That got us a referral for an evaluation through the school system, and Henry started meeting with an early intervention teacher.
From the first day, when she showed him how to sign the word "more," his language started taking off. Not only did he master the signed words quickly, but his spoken words increased. He progressed so much that by his next evaluation, he didn't quite qualify for more services. But his teacher advocated for him, saying she felt like he needed a little more help. She knew something was still a little off. We had spoken about autism and she said she didn't think that was it, but he was still pretty young. As she put it, there were indicators, but there were counter-indicators.
Henry is very smart. He picked up his alphabet and his numbers way earlier than most kids. He likes patterns, for things to be a certain way - but only so much. He gets obsessive about things - oh dear god, the doors! Music and sounds are particularly appealing, we discovered. He can become super-focused on something, or listen to the same song, or even the same sound, for extended periods of time. Hours, if we let him. But he can be affectionate and compassionate and will make eye-contact, unlike most autistic kids.
But how he interacts is... a little off. He still does "parallel play" where he's playing around other kids but doesn't really play with them. He interacts better with Oliver, but it's usually Oliver who's directing play. The other day, a little girl from the apartment complex looked Henry square in the eye and asked, "Do you want to play with us?" Henry didn't answer her. He wandered away like no one was there.
[Intermission: It's midnight... Oliver woke up... he coughed, he chatted, he had some juice, he threw up the juice, he asked for a cup of fruit... now he's curled up on the edge of the little bed waiting for Mommy to get off the computer. This is why I don't blog from home.]
What has become most obviously "off," though, is Henry's lack of questions. As Oliver, who will be 3 in less than three months, has become more verbose (he has always been way ahead of other kids his age), it has become apparent what Henry is not doing. It came home for me when, as my husband went banging and cursing around the kitchen, Oliver asked me, "Is Daddy okay? Does Daddy have a boo-boo?" Henry doesn't do that. He will ask if he needs permission for something - "Can I have the MobiGo?" - but I can't think of him ever asking exploratory questions like, "Where are we going?" or "Why does it do that?"
But our biggest problem is dealing with Henry's emotions. Oliver will protest and pitch a fit for something he wants. Henry gets hysterical. Seriously, he looks like he's having a panic attack sometimes. And often, he's freaking out over something like wanting me to help him with a puzzle he can already do by himself. If I say that I have to do dishes right now, he will pull me toward the puzzle table and repeat, "No! You have to match!" - not with a headstrong toddler look, but with a look of great anxiety. The day before he put the puzzle together, start to finish, by himself. But once he gets it in his mind that I need to help him, he can't move forward until I do. Sometimes all I need to do is match two pieces and then he will take over and finish the rest on his own. But if he's in that particular mindset, and I insist on my "no," he may likely scream and cry, or become violent and hit his brother - and he will not let it go. He will shut down, unable to move on with the puzzle on his own, or unable to move on to some other toy.
And most disturbingly, in his nervousness, he hurts himself. He chews his nails (I heard the audible 'snap' tonight, when he thought he saw a fly in his bed), and he will even give himself little cuts by pinching his skin with what's left of his nails. All over his body, but especially on his fingers, there are little red sores from him doing this.
So what's wrong with him? Autism Spectrum? Anxiety disorder? ADHD? OCD? There's a whole alphabet soup floating around him. We just want to know what we're dealing with.
We may not be responsible for the topography of Henry's mind - he was born with that. But the way we deal with Henry, the way we interact - whether we yell, or encourage, or soothe, and show him how to manage his strong emotions - helps to cultivate the landscape of his mind. We are carving out roads, planting trees and far too few flowers, laying the foundations for what his mind will become. This is true with any person, but some minds will always require special care and attention.
[Two days later: Out Day. Mix Bakeshop. 16oz Soy Chai.]
So...
Like I said before, while it's nice to have a diagnosis to illuminate the detour signs, the warnings - "There be dragons here!" - in the end, we have to let people chart their own course and be whoever they are going to be. No diagnosis can decide who they are unless they - and we - let it. After all, no "normal" person is exactly like any other "normal" person, so why would we expect someone with an alphabet soup brain to be exactly like anyone else, even someone with the same letters floating in their bowl? And is there such a thing as a "normal" person, anyway? I think we've all got some flavor of alphabet soup swirling around upstairs.
For my money, given his love of music and repetition, I think Henry's letters are going to end up being DJ.
Maybe DJ Spews-a-lot.... ;)
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