April 4, 2014

I'm feeling a little unwanted and underappreciated right now. My understanding is this is a norm when you're raising a teenager. I don't mind so much, as I believe teens think parents are ancient and clueless.


I don't talk about my son much here because he is not the cause of my eating problem. My son is a source of joy and wonder. All thanks and praises be to God who saw me worthy to have and take care of this precious life. However, my precious one woke up a teenager one day and things began to change.


Today I went out to run a few short errands. While out I thought it would be nice to pick up some of my son's favorite chicken. Not to mention that I also got a few of his favorite treats from the grocery store. I got home, he helped with the groceries and then proceeded to isolate himself away from me. At first I talked myself out of taking it personal, but then I went in to my room which is right next to the den. My son recognized that I was going to be in my room for awhile. He turned off the tv and went into his room shutting, the door behind him. Okay, typical teen behavior...right?


I finished changing clothes and proceeded to go to my office to check my email before retreating to the kitchen. My office is across the hall from my son's room. Again, I must have invaded his space because he immediately retreated back to the den which is furthest from my office. By this time I started to take this behavior personally. Is this a big deal? No. But I wanted to get it off my chest because I have an issue with being unwanted and it felt a little like that today.


It didn't take me long to brush the feeling off. My son is not evil like my parents were. I know that he loves his mom and I also know that he cherishes his space. I'm glad that he is coming into his own. When raising a child on the spectrum, you don't always know what your going to get until the moment comes. In many ways, my son is not like the average teen, but in many ways he is and that's what makes him so unique. Ah, I get it now... Maybe that's why some people refer to being autistic as being a fruit salad...because you get something different in every bite. That makes sense.


Anyway, It's been a very good day. My son is still lovingly in the den. He did stop by to give me the sweetest kiss on the cheek. That's good enough for me. Take care my sweet one. Don't grow up too fast.


For breakfast I had eggs with cheese and a large glass of water. Lunch was a chicken sandwich. Dinner was pretty early, we ate at 5:30. I had two pieces of my son's favorite fried chicken, okra and mac-n-cheese with a med. strawberry soda. I've prepared a small fruit snack for later.

Abandonment

I think people generally think of abandonment as the leaving of someone or something and not returning to it. That is correct. But there's another level of abandonment. To be abandoned emotionally is even worse. You may have the physical presence of the parent or parents with you, but they are void and unable to give anything emotional to you or maybe the only emotion they give is anger even hate. Living with a person who is void of emotion is like living in or near a black hole. All things that go into the hole are lost, even light. They drain you of everything and give nothing in return. You question if you should feel the way you feel. Sometimes you are made to feel guilty for feeling abandoned, especially when both parents are in the home. I was told that I could not possibly feel abandoned because I had both my parents and that I should be thankful for them, because so many little girls and boys live in broken homes. Why is it when a child is raised in a single parent home they are considered a broken family as opposed to living with both parents who are abusing you. What is that called? Is that not broken?


I'm a single parent. Not my wish, but it is a fact. I think about the words "broken home" as I look at my family dynamic. Our home is not broken. There is love, affection, attention, nurturing, patience, laughter, peace, joy, stability, encouragement and teaching. As a parent, I devote time to cultivate a well rounded individual. One who has hopes and dreams. One who is comfortable in his skin. One who knows he's protected, has help and support when he needs it. Isn't that what a child's supposed to have? Obviously it is possible to give or receive all of these things in a single parent family. Ours and many other families are proof of that. Society puts to much on having both parents present. It's all about what is considered complete. The look of a family. Having a sense of "normal" family. What is a normal family? Is there such a thing? Society needs to revamp their definition of broken family, because they are wrong. It's not the physical absence of a parent that breaks a home. It's the emotional absence of a parent or both that breaks the home. Doesn't matter how many parents are in the home. Emotional absence is the culprit to the lacking of every conceivable need with exception to monetary need. That doesn't require emotion.


To live without emotion is not living...not even existing...it's nothing...empty.


You may question how I am able to give love and affection to my son when I was deprived of those things myself. Well, I tend to operate out of logic first and emotion second. Logically speaking, what I experienced as a child did not feel good, so why would I choose do to that to someone else. If it doesn't work for you, don't do it.


My greatest obsessions are exploring cerebral ability, human behavior and human nature. I study these things at all times and in many scenarios. I've seen several family scenarios in life and on television. I draw out the positives and then I think of ways to incorporate those positives in my daily practice or future practices. I want to give my son what I never had. He deserves that. In order to give my son what I never had, I must learn what good things are to be given. My son did not ask to come into this world nor did he ask to be autistic, but he's here and he's wonderful. I tell him everyday. And I pride myself on seeing that my son knows he is loved and wanted. That is everything to me.


There are two kinds of mothers and I don't mean biological and non-biological. What I mean is breeder and nurturer. Breeders give life and little else. Nurturers give their heart no matter if the  child is biological or not. My mother was a breeder. I chose to be a nurturer.


Today was not a good eating for me. I ate a pack of peanut butter crackers at 2:47pm. No afternoon snack. I'm determined not to eat take-out today. Dinner was eaten at 6:30pm. We had meat sauce with broccoli over rotini pasta. No hunger sensations today also no urge to binge.


There was a strange occurrence last night. I was watching a movie with a friend over the phone. While watching the movie I decided to break my own rule and get some chips and a little dip. I was a bit heavy handed on the chip portion, but I thought it would be okay. It would serve as my late night snack. Midway into the pile of chips and I suddenly had to stop. Everything started tasting really. I lost my appetite and put the chips and dip away. That is a first. I don't know how it came to be. My guess is the daily purging of my feeling and heightened awareness of eating habits is beginning change me. I'm in an altered state. I have to say, it felt pretty darn good being able to push those chips away. I hope and pray the binging cycle soon dissipates. And I hope it stays gone forever.


One other thing, I kept my promise to myself last night and exercised for 5 minutes. Tonight I will do it again. I'll work on building stamina after I work on staying true to my word. Baby steps.

I Get So Frustrated!!!!!

Writing about myself is one of the hardest things I've ever tried to do. Yet I can't stop trying. I need to get my words out, if for no one other than myself. I get so frustrated when reading others blogs. I love to read them and enjoy the content of their posts, but I find myself getting lost in envy over their fluidity of total expression. I wonder, do they struggle like I do? Do they sit at a little wooden desk and fret for countless days, months and hours...agonizing over every word, writing and re-writing...walking away and returning? Whenever I'm not in front of my computer I feel like I am about to burst at the seems. There is so much that wants to come out. Why is it so hard?!

Just when I think that I've figured it all out and am ready to open up the flood gates I go dry again. Where is inspiration? Isn't it enough to live the story that I want to tell? My words feel emotionless and sterile. Yes, that would best describe it. Perhaps I'm trying to hard. Perhaps it just me and my disconnection to life. My mind won't allow me to feel the fullness of my emotions. I guess it would be too much. Maybe I should just close my eyes and breathe... All I can see are words floating around in space...taunting me...haunting me. Memories flash before my eyes, yet I still feel nothing. I think I want to cry and scream, but I can't. There's nothing there...

I looked into the mirror once and saw a women mentally bludgeoned. I've been violated in every possible way. My spirit battered, broken and left for dead. My girth increasing and decreasing...increasing and decreasing...increasing and decreasing... I am OBESE!! I am UGLY!! I am UNWANTED!! I am UNLOVABLE!! There's no escape. I'm going crazy, I need to release. Please God help me!!!!

I can walk through a house of mirrors and never see my own reflection. Conditioned to ignore the obvious. I live an illusion. I always have. Where there should have been love...there was none. Where there should have been protection...there was none. Where there should have been comfort...there was none. Where there should have been laughter, joy, fun, adventure...there was none. I have been imprisoned by life, my parents, my conditions and even my own mind... Flawed from head to toe...inside and out. I am queen of the misfits...discarded like a broke Christmas ornament. I want to see beauty, but I can't. I know beauty lives inside. I want to be beautiful on the outside. I can't see myself because I don't want to. I don't want to face the ugly truth. My friends, they tell me I'm beautiful, but they are just being kind.

I crawl out of my hole and begin to pick up the pieces. I try to make sense of what's left of my life. I put on the face of strength for my child. I don't want him to see me broken even though he already knows that I am. You see, he knows first hand the pain that is mine. When he was a toddler we used to visit my parents on the weekends. It would take most of the day for me to manage the thought... Hours of crying and vomiting and then slowing getting ready to face the beast. My dad, never satisfied, would always criticize me. One day it had gotten so bad that my precious little one ran over to me, jumped onto my lap and wrapped his arms around my neck...screaming and crying. He turned to look at my dad as if to say...leave my mommy alone. I hugged and kissed him and told him it was okay. We went home. There were many occasions like this, but I dare not miss a weekend. My parents insisted that we break bread together every Saturday. My mother still presenting the face of perfection. Still perpetuating the lie. Will it ever stop?

My parents are gone now. Would it be wrong for me to say that I am grateful? Should I feel guilty for feeling this way? My son can since that I am still haunted by my past. It is on those days that he hugs me and rubs my face to ensure me that it's okay. I look at him in think how precious he is. He is perfect. He will never know the beatings, ridicule, disconnection, blame and hate that I endured. If only I too had been so precious to my parents.

I relish the joy and peace that we have in our home. My son will never have to question if he is loved. He will never feel the pain I felt. I thank God for that. I thank God that he made me strong enough to break the curse. I thank God for the blessing of my son and the gift of motherhood. Thank you God for showing me what parenting should be... How love should feel... What peace is...

It is because of my love for my son and my quest for healing that I take this journey. I want my son to have the absolute best of me. I want to be free. Not stuffing my pain, but releasing and letting it go...completely. That is my goal. And I will achieve this even if it takes me one letter at a time...