Ways of Grieving by Ruth O'Callaghan

Ways of Grieving

Perhaps we should grieve
                         as elephants grieve

holding the bones
                 of our ancestors                                         
close

in clear air
       where a drip of light
               that falls between trees

catches the leaves' rustle
                                     before rain

the muted croo-croo of doves
                                         in shadows
where the river winds

       or watch in the snowlight
for stars
                   paled
in a winter sky
              that casts beyond
what is known

              how ice cracks in the dying
fall of night

                     or how elephants tread
marvel at whiteness
                                           Light         Bone

If you... Then I...

If I hear you mock someone for crying over something you believe is trivial. If you tell them to "get some perspective" "others have it much worse than you" "pull yourself together" and I am feeling strong enough, I will confront you. I don't care if you have experienced their situation yourself, or helped a loved one through it. That does not give you the right to belittle someone else's experience. And if you can't see that...

If I hear you use words like retard, spaz, tranny, or gay (meaning anything other than happy or someone's sexuality), I will speak up. Because words DO hurt. Words are powerful. And by using the phrase "I'm sorry if you were offended" you are belittling someone's pain while making yourself feel better, because "I apologised didn't I?" No. You didn't. You put the onus on the person you hurt.

If you honestly wish to apologise, better to say "I am sorry that I/my words/my actions hurt you." This is not saying "I was wrong" if you truly believe in what you said or did, but it is acknowledging that you caused someone else pain. We can't all agree all of the time, but we can acknowledge when we've hurt someone.

In return, I hope that if I ever hurt or offend you, you will do me the service of calling me out on it, with civility. We are all learning, every day, what it takes to develop into the person we want to be. Some of us have a head start because of race, gender, money, education...it doesn't mean we have any less of a journey to make. It does mean that we have benefited at the expense of others, whether we wanted to or not.

...Oh, and when someone apologises, take it at face value. Believe them, at least until they show by their words or actions that they didn't really mean it. Because how do you feel when YOU apologise and are not heard? It happens every time my older son and I don't see eye-to-eye: whichever one of us was not heard forgets why they were sorry and instead gets angry and defensive. And in doing so, makes things worse so that the whole miserable cycle starts again.

Disagreeing with someone does not make either them or you a bad person. Two people can hold completely opposite views and still both be good people. The world is not a simple place, people are complicated, and I kind of like it that way.

My Nanna

My Nanna taught me my first swears.

She had a twin keyboard electric organ, with a foot-pedal not unlike those you get on sewing machines, and would play a medley of show tunes and old favourites at the slightest inkling that her "audience" might be up for a sing-along.

She taught me to sing 'A' You're Adorable and The Sheik Of Araby (with the words "without a shirt" added to each line). She taught me how to draw faces with a minimum of pencil strokes.

All our birthday cards from Nanna were sent through the post with the envelope covered in beautiful, brightly coloured, hand drawn flowers...at least they were until several went missing and, suspecting that someone at the sorting office was intercepting anything that looked like it might contain money, she began to draw inside the card instead.

She was always the life and soul of any party and loved to be the centre of attention. She always had a story that was one better than anyone else's and while this could sometimes be annoying, it was also endearing in that she never tried to excuse or hide it.

My Nanna is still alive, but I am writing this in the past tense because the sweetly wicked lady with the very naughty sense of humour and twinkly eyes I loved so much has disappeared. I found it difficult to recognise the shrunken, sullen, almost silent woman I visited this week as my Nanna. It wasn't her.

Her name was Lola, sometimes known as "Plum" and I miss her.

Justice for Men and Boys

Dear Mike Buchanan,

I heard you speaking on Woman's Hour today about "Justice for Men and Boys (And the women who love them)", and am very sorry that you feel the way you do. I don't expect anything I say will change your mind on this, but as the mother of two boys, I am concerned by the message you are promoting.

There are many levels of bias, inequality and persecution. Some are more harmful than others, but they are all damaging (and not just to the person on the receiving end).

One of your arguments began with the statement that men pay more tax, work longer hours and in more dangerous jobs than women. Ignoring the fact that this is not always true, (although I accept that at present this is more often the case than not) in giving this as a reason for your assertions you are completely ignoring (or at least negating) any contribution to society that does not command a salary. You are also completely ignoring the number of hours many men and women spend raising children, caring for elderly or disabled relatives, maintaining a household and providing emotional support...

Yes there are inequalities. But they are not all, or even mostly, aimed at males. They are aimed at the sick, the disabled, the elderly, the uneducated, the impoverished. They are aimed at those who are either unemployed or underemployed. They are aimed at those for whom money and status are not a driving force. At those who, because of all or one of these things, are not considered to be "important"

I don't want my sons to think like you do. I want them to respect themselves and others enough to understand that it is their privilege to give up some of the advantages their race and gender have enjoyed for so long in order to help create a more equal world. I want them to know that in giving up an advantage they should never have had in the first place, they will gain far more than they have "lost"

I hope one day you see the truth of this.

Sincerely,

a woman who loves the men and boys in her life, but is not served by your party.

The "R" word

My younger son (A.) and I have apologies to make.

This evening, after dinner, A. went out to play with the local kids in the strip of green outside our block of flats, where a boy hit him and gave him a bloody lip. A's friend (an older girl who lives downstairs) brought him home, saying she had tried to stop the fight, but couldn't. While we were trying to stop the bleeding, this boy came to our door with a couple of friends to ask if A. was coming back out to play and I told him he was a bully, never to come to my door again and slammed the door in his face.

Once A's lip stopped bleeding, we had a long talk and he eventually told me what happened.

He called this boy the "R" word. A very hurtful and ignorant word that is not allowed in this house. I thought he understood why we find this word so offensive, but he didn't, only that was a bad name and so he used it on a boy who plays too rough for him. And instead of apologising when this boy got (rightly) upset and asked "do you want a fight?" A. said yes. "Because I didn't want to look like a wimp." Because he mixed up real life and computer games and thought he knew how to fight.

I told A. that I am disappointed in him for using hurtful words, that I think he should apologise next time he sees this boy and that I would like the chance to apologise too. I have tried to explain to him the difference between computer games and real life - it remains to be seen if he understands that yet.

So, I learned some lessons today:

1. Just because my child avoids conflict at home and at school, it doesn't mean he didn't start a fight with a boy he's scared of.
2. Just because a child plays rough and is a bit cheeky with me, it doesn't mean he's a bully.
3. I should keep my big mouth shut when I'm angry and find out what really happened before I go apportioning blame.
4. I can't sleep properly when I know I've been unjust (hence posting this at 5:30am in the hope that, having admitted it, I can snooze for a few more hours).

Because I won't always be there

Dear X, Y and Z,

I love you, and I know you mean well, but I need you to know that statements of the following kind are not helpful:

"Two children on the autistic spectrum? That must be so hard. No wonder you're depressed! Have you tried (insert scientifically questionable diet/therapy)?"

Firstly, all parenting is hard. That's kind of the point. To be responsible for another life is wonderful, terrifying and full of potential for making mistakes. My children's autism is not what makes it hard. What makes it hard are our struggles to communicate with and understand each other, the sudden (from my perspective) bursts of frustration and/or anger, the judgement of others and the lack of sleep due to one child's periodic bouts of noisy insomnia. None of these things are specific to autism.

Secondly, my depression has several causes, some of them going back to early childhood. If anything, my children being diagnosed with autistic spectrum disorder helped to get it identified and treated: Coming into regular contact with Child Psychologists and Occupational Therapists got me a "preventative" referral to counselling. This meant that my depression was manageable without medication for several years.

Lastly, please don't give credence to scientifically unproven treatments and remedies. They detract attention and resources from where it's needed, i.e.

• Research into how best to help autistic adults be as productive and independent as they are capable of.
• Help to equip schools, colleges and workplaces to find a way of making inclusion work for everyone involved and providing good provision for those for whom full inclusion is not suitable.
• Killing off once and for all this idea of autism as the big bad bogey-man who cruelly steals your "normal" child from you.

It was the prevalence of this idea of autism that caused most of my heartache, despair and misplaced guilt in the early days of my older child's diagnosis. 

My children are not deficient, they are different. This means they have different strengths as well as difficulties and I love them as they are. It took me a while to accept autism and get over the worst of my fears, but I am getting there with the help of other parents and by reading the blogs of adults on the spectrum.

I am still learning. Still making mistakes. Still trying to balance the current needs of my children with preparing them to deal with the world as it is because I can't guarantee it will change. 

Because I won't always be there.

Mugs are important: update

A brief update for those who understand that Mugs are important

The hunt is still on for the mug to fill the place in my hands & heart formerly occupied by welly mug. But,for the princely sum of £1, I have a temporary, meets-part-of-my-criteria, tea hugger:

It's not "the one" but I have a soft spot for elephants. Especially colourful, fabric ones. And this one has an added bonus:

I get to wave an elephant's bum in people's faces whenever the mood takes me. This makes me happy. Childish, but happy.

Mugs are important

I am devastated. I just killed my lovely RNLI mug that brightened my mornings and made me smile. It had no sentimental value- I bought it for myself - but it was exactly the right shape, colour and pattern and it felt "right"in my hands.

So now I am on the look out for a suitable replacement. One that will just make itself known the moment I lay eyes on it. Just like this one did.

It's not "just a mug" It's a visual and physical comfort. It contains the hot, sweet tea that gets me going in the morning (and keeps me going through the day). It's my version of  worry-beads or a stress-ball. It is an important purchase, and not one to be made lightly.

...Ring in the new

A year ago I was just coming out of a period of depression that turned my understanding of myself upside down and left me feeling raw and exhausted. To celebrate my recovery, I wrote my first set of New Year's resolutions since adolescence: Adventures In The Fog: Ring out the old...

Revisiting them today, I am pleased to say I manged to stick to most of them, although five and six still elude me. I guess I'm just not ready to be ruthless and organised yet. I still need that cushion of too many possessions and  insurmountable mess to protect me from the big, bad world.

It has been a tough year in many ways, but after getting through 2011, 2012 has been a doddle. So, no resolutions this time, just a simple wish for a better year filled with good friends, good times and the strength to survive anything life might throw at you.

Christmas at Chaos Central

"Isn't there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?" - Charlie Brown

And so another Christmas has passed. This time relatively peacefully, with very little fuss and no major meltdowns. I would call it a success, but an expensive one. Not financially, but emotionally.

I wish that Christmas and birthdays could be just another ordinary day. That we could just periodically buy the boys gifts whenever the money is available with no thought to the date on the calendar, but just because they deserve them, want them or we want to give them. But they know about Christmas and birthdays. They know these dates mean balloons, decorations, presents and cake (and sometimes guests) and they would be outraged if these conventions were not adhered to.

We tried really hard this year to get the balance right between making Christmas "Christmassy" enough for our younger son, and trying not to over-stimulate his older brother. I didn't for one minute think that it would be the younger one who would find it more difficult; He was so happy and excited that it was finally here.

It's exhausting trying to stay ahead of all the potential stress points, it's also impossible to deal with them all, but it is so absolutely worth it when things are going well and they're excited, happy and staying just the right side of overwhelmed. The trouble is, even when you prepare them ahead of time, introduce the decorations slowly (keeping them fairly minimal), try to arrange it so that they get a few things they really want rather than lots of unexpected and exciting things and try to spread the excitement out over a few days so it's not quite so overwhelmingly-different then straight-back-to-normal...they struggle. 

So anyway, the boys had a good day. We had no conflict, no jealousy over who got what.They did the most wonderful job of sharing and turn-taking right the way through from 6am to dinner time. But then it all caught up with them. The older one retreated into the internal film show that seems to be constantly playing just behind his eyes and the younger one got "cross and disappointed and tired and lonely" and sat on the stairs throwing his Story Cubes around before lining them up along the centre of each of the first nine stairs.

He didn't know how to get himself away from this feeling and couldn't explain why he wasn't happy anymore, so I gathered up the Story Cubes and took him to his bedroom where we shut the door, put his "Keep Out" sign up and told each other silly stories using the cubes as a starting point. I love spending time with him, doing the kind of things we both like, but I always feel guilty that I've so far been unable to find something equally enjoyable I could do with my older, strange, beautiful and unpredictable boy, who I struggle to understand but love just as much.