It's unofficially official. We have a provisional diagnosis for Miss M.
Aspergers Syndrome and ADHD.
I'm not sure how I feel. On one hand, I'm relieved that we have confirmation that she's not just a "bad kid" and that I'm not just a "bad parent". There IS more to Miss M than meets the eye.
At 6 1/2, most kids don't throw temper tantrums constantly. They can dress themselves without a chart on their wall telling them how to do it. They can accept changes to routine without too much drama. They don't run away and hide when they're anxious about something.
It's nice to finally have someone believe me that there's something NQR about my child. She has almost no social skills. When she plays with other kids (with a few exceptions), she is either extremely bossy or she is excluded and picked on.
So now we wait. We wait for the "official" paperwork with the diagnosis. She has 5 sessions with a psychologist coming up in October/November. In the meantime, I know what is going on with her and I have something to work with now.
Incremin (a vitamin/iron liquid supplement) is working. I've been giving it to Miss M for the last few months. A friend recommended it to me, and I can't believe the change in her. She's very calm most of the time, she's been really really good. I was unsure as to whether it was working or if it was all in my head. So I took her off it. Almost immediately I noticed a change in her. She was short-tempered, anxious, and upset. I kept her off it for almost a week, and by the end of it I was thrilled to put her back onto it. It didn't work immediately, it took just over a week of her being back on it to return to her lovely self. So it's definitely doing something good, even if I don't understand it.
So.... now we wait until the start of November to get the paperwork done and get her some proper help, if she's actually entitled to any. Unfortunately, the funding for the autism spectrum stops at 6, and the child must be diagnosed by 5. Stupid, really. But that's life. At least the school (and hopefully family and friends) will be more understanding of her behaviour, and handle her a little differently. Yelling and smacking a child with autism does NOT help. In fact, it skyrockets their anxiety. And her smiling/smirking when she gets told off? It's not her thinking it's funny, it's just her inappropriate facial expression.
She's teaching me patience. And tolerance. And that all kids should be appreciated for being THEM, not for being what everyone deems as perfect.
Thanks for reading.
Sunday 29 July 2012
Wednesday 18 July 2012
Depression - do you ever really recover from it?
Depression is a close-to-home subject for me. I've suffered from depression since I was 15. That was 14 years ago. I went undiagnosed until I was around 23, after I had my first child and my partner told me that I really needed to get help for it.
My undiagnosed years were awful. I went from being a straight A+ student to being a B student. This doesn't seem like a big deal, it's not a huge drop in grades. BUT.... I was a genius. I was very very VERY smart, and I lost all motivation to do the work that came easily to me or to figure out how to do the work that I didn't understand. I self-harmed. I would have smoked if I'd had easy access to them. I took up drinking at 18 and spent the next 12 months drinking myself into a stupor every now and then.
In my teenage and early adult years, I jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend, and hung around with any girls or guys that made me feel better about myself. I had some friends of "questionable calibre".
I was put onto medication when I was 23. The first day I took the medication was a work day. I was living in Rowville and working in Melbourne. I took the meds in the morning, and jumped on a train to the city. About 3 minutes into the journey, I felt really dizzy and nauseous. I made it as far as Ringwood station before I jumped off the train. I found the nearest loo, which happened to be at the shopping centre. I vomited foam. It scared the hell out of me... who vomits FOAM???? Fortunately I made it home again.
The next medication they put me on made me feel sick, but nothing like the first meds. It worked for a long time. Then I went off it.
THAT IS THE TYPICAL DEPRESSION CYCLE - you take your medication... it works wonders. Then you're sure that you're fine and you don't need it, forgetting all about the fact that it's actually the medication working! So you go off the meds. Within 12 months you've crashed again, and you go back on it.
Some people go on this medication merry-go-round for many many years. Some people do just fine without the medication. Others need it for life. And others need it but can't see that they do, so they make their lives and everyone around them miserable.
When I had my second child in 2010, I nearly died in childbirth. I had to have an emergency c-section, and nearly bled to death. When I left hospital after 3 weeks, I'd been through hell (I'll do a separate post about all that). I went to see a psychologist, because I was really not myself. I knew I wasn't, and I sought help.
Over the years, I've dealt with depression on and off. I can't honestly say that I'm "cured".
I'm going through a very nostalgic phase at the moment. Since the photo of high school resurfaced, I've done a lot of thinking.
I'm very grateful for a few people that were in my life. A schoolfriend's father, who was also a teacher at the school - I'm not sure what I would have done without him. I remember walking 4 hours to get to his place from mine, because I was wanting to kill myself but at the same time knowing that wasn't really what I wanted. I was hurting really badly. I was a wreck. He took me in, put me up on the couch for the night, and drove me to school the next day. Mr was there for me, and I don't know what I would have done without him. I don't think I'd be sitting here today if it wasn't for him. It's a debt I'll never be able to repay.
The schoolfriend who went to my mother and told her that I was self-harming and that I really needed her to get me some help. He was genuinely concerned. I never knew that he spoke to my mother, and when I found out I was extremely angry with Mum for never having got me the help I needed. She was "embarassed" and pissed off that I'd "embarassed her". She accused me of being attention seeking, and told me she was glad I'd "grown out of it".
It's this attitude toward depression that causes so many of us to avoid seeking help. There is a stigma toward having depression. The main misconception is that things have to be wrong for you to have depression. WRONG!! You can have every reason in the world to be happy and still feel miserable. Or angry. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain, NOT caused by the person "feeling sorry for themselves".
Myth # 2 - depression means you feel upset. WRONG again. Depression has many faces - sometimes it's just extreme anger and hostility. It's not always about being depressed or showing signs of depression. Sometimes it can show as a short fuse. Depression is frustrating!
So... can you ever really recover? I don't think so.
From personal experience over the last 14 years, I know that some days are harder than others. I can go months and months without depression affecting me. Then BAM! It hits me out of the blue for no apparent reason. So if you know someone that has suffered depression, and you see them starting to slip back into it - PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not think "oh well, they'll be right".
Medication works for some. Speaking to a psychologist works for some. Sometimes both. But help is definitely needed.
**Just as a side note, if someone close to you has committed suicide, don't EVER blame yourself. Chances are that the person had hit the point of no return and there was nothing that anyone could have done. If they didn't seek help, or couldn't seek help, that is a tragedy. If you suspected they were suicidal and did nothing - not your fault. As harsh as it is, the only person to blame is .... no one. There IS no one to blame when it comes to suicide. It's a tragedy. Hopefully one that can be made a lot more rare an occurrence as depression is more commonly accepted and helped.
My undiagnosed years were awful. I went from being a straight A+ student to being a B student. This doesn't seem like a big deal, it's not a huge drop in grades. BUT.... I was a genius. I was very very VERY smart, and I lost all motivation to do the work that came easily to me or to figure out how to do the work that I didn't understand. I self-harmed. I would have smoked if I'd had easy access to them. I took up drinking at 18 and spent the next 12 months drinking myself into a stupor every now and then.
In my teenage and early adult years, I jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend, and hung around with any girls or guys that made me feel better about myself. I had some friends of "questionable calibre".
I was put onto medication when I was 23. The first day I took the medication was a work day. I was living in Rowville and working in Melbourne. I took the meds in the morning, and jumped on a train to the city. About 3 minutes into the journey, I felt really dizzy and nauseous. I made it as far as Ringwood station before I jumped off the train. I found the nearest loo, which happened to be at the shopping centre. I vomited foam. It scared the hell out of me... who vomits FOAM???? Fortunately I made it home again.
The next medication they put me on made me feel sick, but nothing like the first meds. It worked for a long time. Then I went off it.
THAT IS THE TYPICAL DEPRESSION CYCLE - you take your medication... it works wonders. Then you're sure that you're fine and you don't need it, forgetting all about the fact that it's actually the medication working! So you go off the meds. Within 12 months you've crashed again, and you go back on it.
Some people go on this medication merry-go-round for many many years. Some people do just fine without the medication. Others need it for life. And others need it but can't see that they do, so they make their lives and everyone around them miserable.
When I had my second child in 2010, I nearly died in childbirth. I had to have an emergency c-section, and nearly bled to death. When I left hospital after 3 weeks, I'd been through hell (I'll do a separate post about all that). I went to see a psychologist, because I was really not myself. I knew I wasn't, and I sought help.
Over the years, I've dealt with depression on and off. I can't honestly say that I'm "cured".
I'm going through a very nostalgic phase at the moment. Since the photo of high school resurfaced, I've done a lot of thinking.
I'm very grateful for a few people that were in my life. A schoolfriend's father, who was also a teacher at the school - I'm not sure what I would have done without him. I remember walking 4 hours to get to his place from mine, because I was wanting to kill myself but at the same time knowing that wasn't really what I wanted. I was hurting really badly. I was a wreck. He took me in, put me up on the couch for the night, and drove me to school the next day. Mr was there for me, and I don't know what I would have done without him. I don't think I'd be sitting here today if it wasn't for him. It's a debt I'll never be able to repay.
The schoolfriend who went to my mother and told her that I was self-harming and that I really needed her to get me some help. He was genuinely concerned. I never knew that he spoke to my mother, and when I found out I was extremely angry with Mum for never having got me the help I needed. She was "embarassed" and pissed off that I'd "embarassed her". She accused me of being attention seeking, and told me she was glad I'd "grown out of it".
It's this attitude toward depression that causes so many of us to avoid seeking help. There is a stigma toward having depression. The main misconception is that things have to be wrong for you to have depression. WRONG!! You can have every reason in the world to be happy and still feel miserable. Or angry. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain, NOT caused by the person "feeling sorry for themselves".
Myth # 2 - depression means you feel upset. WRONG again. Depression has many faces - sometimes it's just extreme anger and hostility. It's not always about being depressed or showing signs of depression. Sometimes it can show as a short fuse. Depression is frustrating!
So... can you ever really recover? I don't think so.
From personal experience over the last 14 years, I know that some days are harder than others. I can go months and months without depression affecting me. Then BAM! It hits me out of the blue for no apparent reason. So if you know someone that has suffered depression, and you see them starting to slip back into it - PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE do not think "oh well, they'll be right".
Medication works for some. Speaking to a psychologist works for some. Sometimes both. But help is definitely needed.
**Just as a side note, if someone close to you has committed suicide, don't EVER blame yourself. Chances are that the person had hit the point of no return and there was nothing that anyone could have done. If they didn't seek help, or couldn't seek help, that is a tragedy. If you suspected they were suicidal and did nothing - not your fault. As harsh as it is, the only person to blame is .... no one. There IS no one to blame when it comes to suicide. It's a tragedy. Hopefully one that can be made a lot more rare an occurrence as depression is more commonly accepted and helped.
Tuesday 17 July 2012
High School Memories
I was having coffee recently with an old school friend of mine, the only person from school who I still speak to. We were sitting in the lounge room at her place, and she dug out an old photo of when we were in Year 12.
That was a couple of months ago now. I've had a lot of time to sit and think about that photo. When I first saw the photo, I was amazed at how young everyone looked. And how long ago it was. It's been over 10 years since high school ended. I'm also amazed at how things changed between Year 9 and Year 12. Year 9 we were an extremely close group. By the end of Year 12, there were multiple boyfriend-girlfriend breakups in the group, and a couple of people practically at war with one another.
In the photograph, there are 18 people. One person in that photo was not really part of the close group. One person who was part of the close group isn't in the photo but should be.
Now one of those people has moved to QLD. One of the girls' mum has died. Two have been married and then separated. Seven of us have kids. One of them is still dating the same girl he was dating back then. A few of the people in the photo are engaged. One of them has done great volunteer work in Kenya.
I look at the photo, and I'm flooded with a range of emotions. Mostly because by the end of Year 12, I was ostracised from this group. Not through any fault of theirs, however. Mine.
Because I'm the one with the mental illness.
Back then, I had almost no self-esteem. Three of the boys in that photo I went out with at one point or another. My first "boyfriend" in Year 7 or 8 when "going out" meant you just hung around at school together.
The "one who got away" - the guy I broke up with even though I was crazy about him, because I knew I was going off the rails and losing it, and didin't want to drag him down with me. The "farm boy", who was a true friend to me for many many years, both at school, after school, and in the early adult years - the one who I always cared very deeply about but never really told him how much he meant to me.
Then there's another guy in the photo who catches my eye - the one who tried to save me from myself. The one who tried in vain to speak my mother about my self-destructive behaviour, but was brushed aside. I didn't find out about this until I was 25 and had been diagnosed with depression and told my mother about it. She'd always put it down to me "seeking attention". She told me that he'd gone to her, and that she'd been embarassed and that she was still annoyed at me for "embarrassing her".
I look at the photo, and I'm glad to be away from all that drama. I thought I'd grown up so much since high school. In some ways I have. In some ways I haven't. I look back at the people that I've lost contact with, and it makes me a bit nostalgic and sad. I wish that I could go back to those days, where I had close friends who I could spend time with.
Then I remember - the reason I don't have them in my life any more is because I lost the plot so much. Some of them I would still like to be friends with, I'd like to go back and tell them how much they all meant to me. But I can't.
I have 2 kids who I adore. They drive me mental, especially considering I have one child going through a full assessment for behaviour-social-emotional problems, and the other is a rambunctious toddler who gets into EVERYTHING!! Plus I still have depression - most days are great, I have it under control a lot more than I did back in high school.
So much has changed since high school. Life has moved on. But I still miss parts of it.
So for those in the photo who read my blog - particularly CJ, TJC and K.... you'll never know how much you all meant to me back then. I miss how you were there for me when I needed you, especially TJC.You were a true friend, one that I didn't think I deserved. And to Sammi, who is a true friend who I don't know how I'd survive without. You make every day a bit easier, knowing that you're only a keyboard away. I love catching up with our kids for coffee (for us, not the kids!), the cake, and the wonderful chats about life, important stuff, and absolute crap that we randomly talk about! You're an amazing person who should be told so more often.
So to all in the "Courtyard Group" in high school - enjoy the rest of your lives post-high-school. I am and will. And I'm always up for a chat on Facebook.
xxx
That was a couple of months ago now. I've had a lot of time to sit and think about that photo. When I first saw the photo, I was amazed at how young everyone looked. And how long ago it was. It's been over 10 years since high school ended. I'm also amazed at how things changed between Year 9 and Year 12. Year 9 we were an extremely close group. By the end of Year 12, there were multiple boyfriend-girlfriend breakups in the group, and a couple of people practically at war with one another.
In the photograph, there are 18 people. One person in that photo was not really part of the close group. One person who was part of the close group isn't in the photo but should be.
Now one of those people has moved to QLD. One of the girls' mum has died. Two have been married and then separated. Seven of us have kids. One of them is still dating the same girl he was dating back then. A few of the people in the photo are engaged. One of them has done great volunteer work in Kenya.
I look at the photo, and I'm flooded with a range of emotions. Mostly because by the end of Year 12, I was ostracised from this group. Not through any fault of theirs, however. Mine.
Because I'm the one with the mental illness.
Back then, I had almost no self-esteem. Three of the boys in that photo I went out with at one point or another. My first "boyfriend" in Year 7 or 8 when "going out" meant you just hung around at school together.
The "one who got away" - the guy I broke up with even though I was crazy about him, because I knew I was going off the rails and losing it, and didin't want to drag him down with me. The "farm boy", who was a true friend to me for many many years, both at school, after school, and in the early adult years - the one who I always cared very deeply about but never really told him how much he meant to me.
Then there's another guy in the photo who catches my eye - the one who tried to save me from myself. The one who tried in vain to speak my mother about my self-destructive behaviour, but was brushed aside. I didn't find out about this until I was 25 and had been diagnosed with depression and told my mother about it. She'd always put it down to me "seeking attention". She told me that he'd gone to her, and that she'd been embarassed and that she was still annoyed at me for "embarrassing her".
I look at the photo, and I'm glad to be away from all that drama. I thought I'd grown up so much since high school. In some ways I have. In some ways I haven't. I look back at the people that I've lost contact with, and it makes me a bit nostalgic and sad. I wish that I could go back to those days, where I had close friends who I could spend time with.
Then I remember - the reason I don't have them in my life any more is because I lost the plot so much. Some of them I would still like to be friends with, I'd like to go back and tell them how much they all meant to me. But I can't.
I have 2 kids who I adore. They drive me mental, especially considering I have one child going through a full assessment for behaviour-social-emotional problems, and the other is a rambunctious toddler who gets into EVERYTHING!! Plus I still have depression - most days are great, I have it under control a lot more than I did back in high school.
So much has changed since high school. Life has moved on. But I still miss parts of it.
So for those in the photo who read my blog - particularly CJ, TJC and K.... you'll never know how much you all meant to me back then. I miss how you were there for me when I needed you, especially TJC.You were a true friend, one that I didn't think I deserved. And to Sammi, who is a true friend who I don't know how I'd survive without. You make every day a bit easier, knowing that you're only a keyboard away. I love catching up with our kids for coffee (for us, not the kids!), the cake, and the wonderful chats about life, important stuff, and absolute crap that we randomly talk about! You're an amazing person who should be told so more often.
So to all in the "Courtyard Group" in high school - enjoy the rest of your lives post-high-school. I am and will. And I'm always up for a chat on Facebook.
xxx
Friday 6 July 2012
Holiday Post # 1 -Coming live from Lilydale, Tasmania
So it's Day 4 of our holiday to
Tasmania.
We caught the Spirit of Tasmania on
Monday night at 7:30pm. We had a GREAT trip over, not. Miss M
absconded while I was in the loo. She got spooked by the violent
rocking of the boat as we were going through the Heads, and stepped
out of the cabin to see if she could see us (she assumed I was out on
the deck with Daddy). Unfortunately for her, the cabin door shut
behind her. She stood in the hallway for a couple of minutes, until a
man came along. He asked her what was wrong, and she said she'd been
locked out of the room. Unfortunately, with Miss M's lack of clear
communication skills and logical reasoning, she thought that she was
“lost”. The man found his wife, and sent his wife off looking for
us. Meanwhile, I'd come out of the loo, realised she was missing, and
went MADLY running around the ship looking for her. TWENTY MINUTES
LATER I caught up with Maddison and the lady. Madd was looking very
scared, and wasn't speaking by this point. She saw me, and was so
scared that she couldn't even acknowledge me.
The lady looked at Madd's reaction,
and asked “Is this your Mummy?” Madd couldn't or wouldn't
respond, I'm not sure if she was in a state of terror or she thought
she'd be in massive trouble for leaving the room after we'd told her
not to leave the room under ANY circumstances. The lady was pretty
dubious that I was Madd's mum, because of Madd's lack of reaction. No
sigh of relief, no “MUMMY!” screamed in delight at me because I'd
been found. No reaction at all. *sigh *
So I took her back to the room, and I
haven't left her side since.
The next morning, we disembarked (got
off the boat). Our garage number was called, so we had to go get in
the car and drive off the boat. Madd, of course, stood right in front
of the door which happened to be behind Daddy, who was packing the
last of our things. He turned around, and elbowed her in the face,
knocking her already-wobbly tooth. It immediately started spurting
blood. BIG groans from Daddy and I, knowing that we would LOVE to
show her some sympathy and attention and help her but WE NEED TO GET
OUR CAR!! We apologised to her for not being able to “fix it now”,
but explained that we had to get our car straight away. So Ash
carried Coopman, I carried the bags and dragged Madd along to the
garage deck.
We arrived in Devonport, and had
breakfast at a lovely little breakfast cafe called Bella's Pizza
Cafe. They were very welcoming and accommodating. They brought our
little one a glass of milk, and made an amazing hot chocolate for
Miss M, who decided it was “yucky” before she'd even tasted it
(score one for ME, I drank it and it was marvellous!).
We went to Tasmazia the other day, and within 10 seconds of walking into the maze we'd lost Coopman.
He was running past Ash to catch up to me, and suddenly he took a turn. Madd chased after him, and came back 10 seconds later and said "I lost him". Well that sent me into a panic. I grabbed Madd, and Ash and I took off in different directions to find him. I called Ash on the mobile about 10 minutes later, and he still hadn't found Cooper. Neither had I. 20 minutes later, I heard a little kid screaming his lungs out in hysterics. I recognised my son's crying immediately. I took off running in the direction of his screaming. He'd climbed in between the two sides of the maze path, and was stuck in the spiky bushes. A lovely lady fetched him for me, as I couldn't get to him (fortunately she was much smaller than 6ft overweight me). He was so relieved to see me, it was "Mummy, Mummy, Mummy" for a couple of hours before it was all about Daddy again. It was nice being the favourite for a little while!!
I have to say that Maddison hasn't
been herself until today. We arrived in Tassie on Tuesday morning.
It's now Friday evening, and she's finally her “nice self” again.
She's been teary and sooky and grumpy, downright defiant, and then
over-happy and bouncing around like a maniac. She's finally settled
down this afternoon and she's back to being Happy Maddison.
Tomorrow we leave our farmstay at Cherry Top Farm, where we've spent the past 3 nights (4 nights here in total). We're off to another part of Tasmania tomorrow, will update in a couple of days.
Hopefully the rest of the holiday will be peaceful.
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