life with talking trees

The reason I am no longer friends with quite a few people is very simple:

They offended me more than once.
I let them know they offended me in as neutral a way as possible.
They got pissed at ME for being offended and proceeded to berate me for being offended.
They then further maligned me when I refused to engage any more.

Here's a hint:if you have upset someone you care about, I should think you would WANT to at least TRY to make rights. By deciding to attack me because I was offended, you pretty much scream that you don't care about me at all. Which makes me question the whole of our previous friendship.

I'm not saying you have to agree with me or beat your breast, or declare yourself an asshole. Just allow that if I am offended, I have a RIGHT to be offended and since you CARE about me then you want to make things right. You may end up feeling like *I* am the asshole. That's fine. Maybe I am. But I guaran-damned-tee you won't get me to apologize to YOU if you don't have the wherewithal to approach the situation in a decent respectful manner.

Have I made it clear? There are three people in particular I am thinking about here. Very specific situations. They all did something that gravely upset me - and not for the first time either - but when I expressed my chagrin, i was basically treated WORSE. So I realized we must not really be friends. Because that's not how you treat your friends.

Trust me, if in the course of our interaction, you tell me I have upset you, even if I am pissed at you, I will approach the situation with something of an olive branch if not an outright immediate apology. Because no matter how irascible I can get? I am not actually looking to piss off my friends. And I am not just flapping my gums here; I have on MANY occasions humbled myself and apologized to a friend for upsetting them. Sometimes I had no idea I was doing it and sometimes I had gone overboard. And a couple of times I was just feeling shitty and took it out on the first person to make a minuscule mistake in my presence.

And yes, as soon as they told me they were offended, I apologized. Regardless of my feelings on the subject at hand. Because my friends mean more to me than "being right". Even if I was still upset or thinking they were "wrong". Someone being wrong it not license to make them feel shitty.

Always, afterwards we have been able to work out some shit, if it was needed.

but I don't work anything out with people who dismiss my feelings outright. Fuck that. once you make it clear you have no intention of examining your behavior, we're done. DONE.

And a couple of those people? I kind of miss the friendship I thought I had with them. But I don't want them back. Because that friendship was just what I THOUGHT was there. Obviously, I was mistaken. Because friendship is not predicated upon ME putting up with abuse from someone silently. Oh hell no.

perhaps my real issue is that I've been coming up against a lot of "that's not fair" whenever a SigOth has any complaint about dealing with a loved one's disability. My immediate reaction is "maybe so but its reality" as well as "you don't have the right to censor them even if their truth hurts your feelings"

because ultimately, yes, dealing with someone close in your life who has a disability can be hard and frustrating and make you want to scream. You shouldn't have to have guilt piled on top of everything just because you speak out about your own struggles. Complaining about a loved one's disability does not mean you only see the loved one in terms of their disability. It does not mean you are dehumanizing them.

SigOth's deal with their own side of the struggle dealing with disability. I think they have a right to speak out about it without being stigmatized as "callous"

There's times when I suddenly realize things about myself, my life. Times when the full impact of some part of me comes slamming home and I'm stunned, awed, and maybe a little intimidated by my own reality.

here's a snippet:

I'm a "special needs" parent. I have "special needs" kids. I also have neurotypical kids but that only gives me a better perspective, I think, on what it means to have "special needs" kids. My kids, my little shining beacons of life beyond my life have... difficulties. This means, that raising them has brought unique difficulties with it. Things that can't be foreseen, difficulties that you aren't really geared to deal with "naturally" because those difficulties aren't "natural"

Sometimes I am full face with this reality and it causes such complex emotions I don't know what to say. I feel like calling up some dear friend and exclaiming it, as if its a new concept, "Hey! I'm a special needs mom! My kids have made my parenting experience different!"
But of course that's rather silly because, well, you can't just call someone and blurt out a truth taht is as plain as the nose on your face and expect that they'll be in your same headspace well enough to know what you're really saying. Because what I'd really be saying is "holy shit! I can't believe I ended up having to go through all those situations that other parents only shudder to think about and yet I'm not some kind of amazing paragon of history-changer! I'm just a mom! This is MY LIFE! It didn't go the direction I assumed it would but its okay!"

I mean, you know when some freaky-awful thing happens and you read about it in the paper or someone tells you about "my friends cousin's sister..." and you get the outline of the freakyawful thing and you tsk-tsk or you weep a little or you cross yourself and thank gawd its not YOUR problem or whatever you do when you are vicariously flirting with danger through some anonymous person's life, you know when that happens? Above all else, you're glad its not you?
Well sometimes I'm rather surprised to realize that I *LIVE* one of those freakyawful things that happen to "other people".
Maybe its that I read too much about the anti-vaxers and their almost palpable terror of the dreaded Autism. Their knee-jerk recoil agains the notion that Autism just happens is sad and if I thought about it, really fucking insulting. Because despite everything I've been through with my boys, No wait, actually BECAUSE of everything I've been through with my boys, I know I have never ever wished they weren't born. I've never ever wished they were dead. Ever.
I know some special needs parents DO have those times. And I don't feel in any ways superior to those parents. Not at all. I have never felt that way but that doesn't mean I don't understand where that comes from. Because my (step) mother WAS that way. She did sometimes wish my brother wasn't born. She did sometimes hate him for what she went through. She did sometimes regret not getting an abortion.
But you know.... she STILL fought harder than anyone I've ever known to get him services. She STILL worked like a dog, finding his place in the world.
And she felt enormous crippling guilt for the times she had those moments of resentment and doubt and anger. She was wracked with pain either direction. I've seen it, I was there. I vowed I would never let myself go through all that. If I had a disabled child, I'd find my peace with it, somehow. I'd not allow anyone, ever, push me into a corner whereby I had no one to be angry at but my child.
Don't misunderstand; my mother NEVER hurt by brother. She never did anything but good by him. Above and beyond the call. But her emotions were so jumbled, so convoluted, so complex and so draining that I swore I would do whatever it took to make sure I never was put in taht same corner. I never forgot the root of the real problem. It wasn't my brother (and my mother knew that ultimately) it was this life, this society that was the one to be angry at. This society that placed obstacle after obstacle in front of her campaign to get him what he needed. Obstacle after obstacle and then piled on massive guilt and judgement because she wanted to be "rid" of him. At least that's how she saw it for a long time. She swallowed that lie and it took a very long time for her to come to the truth; that what she really wanted was to live the rest of her life knowing he was taken care of. That his existence was neither torturous for him nor for anyone else.
It took her years to come around to that place. Rejecting outside influence that told her she was a "bad mom" for what she did. The same influences that today try to say she's "irresponsible" for what she did. What did she do? She legally divorced him and forced the state to care for him. He's in a group home now, has been for a long time. SHe visits and takes him out every now and then but he has a decent life. She knows he has a life that makes him happy and that doesn't make her life miserable. Because there's no way she could have given him this life without making her and the rest of the family miserable.

I watched that whole circle happen. I vowed I would learn from it and not go through what she did. And I haven't. I have approached my special needs parenting from teh perspective that "this is my life, this is what I deserve and this is what my children deserve and anyone who thinks badly of me, well they can go fuck themselves"
I am no saint. I am no martyr. I am nothing special in that regard. I did what I had to do. Sometimes I did more and sometimes I did less. I am nowhere near the perfect special needs parent. But so far, I've enjoyed it as much as I possibly could and I've kept my anger and my resentment where I believe it belongs: on the world that makes special needs parenting so hard. But it still sometimes surprises me that I'm here. Because from the outside, from the perspective of a "normal" parent, I'm either "supermom" or I'm "bad mom". That kindof judgement is only because whoever looks at me like that, they can't wrap their minds around having to do what I have done. But I tell you, just as any other special needs parent would tell you, if it were you, if you had been faced with what I've faced, you'd do it all the same and you'd do it all different. Because as a parent, you do what you have to do and you do what you can and sometimes, every now and then, you get to do what you want to do. But there's always assholes blocking your path, whether they're anti-child jerks who think children should all be stuck in an attic until they're fuckable age, or they're "well-meaning" idiots with degrees who don't even have a child who think they've got the answer to every parenting issue. Sometimes it's just other parents who are too uncomfortable with the notion that "this could happen to you to" and so they must hide behind "well you must have done something wrong". I was angry during my pregnancy, I didn't take the right vitamins, I don't have a college degree, my chakras aren't aligned, I don't pray to jesus hard enough, I don't sleep with crystals under my pillow blah blah fuckity blah. There's a part of the world where people just can't let discomfort lie, because then they have to admit that some things don't work out in the end. There's a part of the world who would rather stand around being "helpful" with their hands over their eyes and their degrees up their asses and their wallets hidden away from us "thieves". But I reject that part of the world. I reject the ones who would do their damnedest to force ME to bear the burden of life's unfairness. I don't have time to try to make them feel better and really why should I?

Because that part of the world can go fuck itself. I got kids to raise.

you can be scared of guns. Hell I'm scared of roaches. Lotsa people are scared of riding in a car. Being scared of guns doesn't bother or surprise me.

But please, stop labelling all gun-holders with "omg they are teh crazy"

If a person owns a gun for personal security, they carry it so they can have it if they need it. That does not mean they carry it just itching to USE it. If they are itching to use their gun, they carry it to the range. Gun owners do not carry their guns because they can't wait to shoot someone. Do you carry a fire extinguisher in your car and you can't wait to use it? Drive around looking for a fire? Intend to start a fire in your car JUST so you can use it? Hell maybe squirt a few rounds for the hell of it? Think about squirt fire extinguisher yucky stuff at innocent bystanders? Take it out during parties so you can let loose on the general public?

Come on people.... hysteria doesn't help anything.

Yes, I have a gun in my house. No, I do not intend to pull it out of its locked box for any reason other than 1)maintenance 2)going to the range to keep my skills up 3)in the horrendous but unlikely event I feel threatened enough to have need of it.

I own an axe too. I do not intend to use it on anyone but if I was cornered in my garage you can sure as hell bet I'd run straight to it and use it. I do not keep my axe where little children can get a hold of it. I have instructed my kids with safety rules concerning dangerous objects such as axes, scythes and lawnmowers. And despite the fact that I think chopping wood is kinda fun and good exercise, I do not pull my axe out after having a few beers and start swinging at other folks' heads. Because I'm not a psychopath and I'm also not a moron. Like most people who also own axes.

First, a link:

Penis Love in a bottle


Second, a continuation:

The day before yesterday I posted a lengthy no-holds-barred (well okay yeah I didn't cuss... I was feeling erudite n'shit) generalized rant about popular American Culture and how mean-spirited it can come across to those of us who don't fit the mold.

That was only half of what I wanted to say. What follows is the second half.

Dear Individual Americans from my past,

I want to take this moment to truly place the blame for my condition where it belongs. It was you, oh mostly anonymous people from my past, who are to blame for me turning out the way I have. Because of a huge assortment of mostly anonymous (to me) people, I am who I am today.

To all the people who took me in when I was a baby, while my birthmother was AWOL and my father was on the road, be assured that I have been affected by your treatment of me. I don't remember any of you, I surely don't know your names or where you are but I do know that without you, I wouldn't have the present instant trust issues that I have were it not for your caring of me during that critical time in my development. Whenever someone accuses me of being too trusting, too quick to embrace a stranger's POV, I blame you people for that. After all, if you strangers (to me) had not taken me in, a tiny toddler with absent parents, and loved me, cared for me and looked after me, I might have become distant, mistrustful and frightened of strangers. I might have ended up with a healthy xenophobia like the rest of the country. It is your fault I am ready to believe and trust strange people.
It is your fault I make friends so quickly and easily too. If I had not been carted around, introduced to friends and family and integrated into your own families, as if I were your precious baby instead of the strange burdensome white kid that I actually was, I might have ended up believing myself to be unimportant, unloved and unwanted, thus becoming too alienated from people to actually attempt to form bonds and open my heart to others. It is your fault I am so ready to like people: too much love and caring went into your fostering of me and now to this day I believe people are willing to like me and accept me. Too often I am right and too often do I discount when I am wrong. Thus I know it was your heinous influence upon my spirit that allows me to approach total strangers in certain settings in order to socialize with them and enjoy the experience. As for the exploitation of this "talent" by my friends who were usually too shy to approach others and form bonds, I blame you for this as well. Therefore, there are quite a few people from my past who were also affected by your influence upon me. Many people benefitted from your teaching me how to be "brave" and friendly and went on to gain friendships and close bonds because of my ability to connect others socially and I'm sure they too blame you for those social bonds that I began. They are quite well aware of this, so there's no need for them to chastise you personally, but I thought I'd mention it on their behalf.

To the teachers and volunteers from my grade school, know that I remember you (even your names!) and think of you often whenever I get excited about learning something new. It is your fault I have such a profound curiousity and am unafraid of uncovering new information. It is also your fault I have such a boundless thirst for knowledge that is intangible and multi-dimensional. Because of your constant prodding, pushing and praising, I cannot stumble upon anything new or unknown without furiously pursuing more. Because of your bizarre approach to teaching, I cannot be satisfied to let my brain calcify and degrade, even at 40 years old! Rest assured I know how influential you were to my never-ending quest for understanding as well. If it were not for your belief that all children want to learn and your insistance that children can learn best by non-standard methods such as "open-classrooms", "peer mentoring" and "voluntary scheduling" I would not have this wholistic belief in the power of environmental learning. Without your exhaustive work in presenting myriad forms of learning-through-play I doubt I would have such enjoyment whenever I discover something unknown to me. It is your fault I research so relentlessly everything I find dubious and enjoy doing so. It is your fault I never want to stop discovering things and it is your fault I have so much fun finding out what I don't know especially from other people.

To the children who went to all those private schools with me, know that I remember most of you (yes, names too!) and I remember how kind and accepting you were to me, the freak. It is your fault that I often forget how feakish I look and expect equal treatment from people. It is your fault I believe such equal treatment nearly always comes and conveniantly forget how often it does not come. Because of how nonchalantly you accepted me into your circles and made friends with me, I am the accepting person I am today. Of course I sometimes get angry because other people sometimes cannot be as accepting and friendly as you were with me and for that unreasonable reaction, I blame you too. Since the bulk of my formative years were spent with people and children who were encouraged to see the similarities within us and celebrate the differences between us, I still approach others as if they would have good reason to overlook my appearance and accept who I am on the inside and believe that to be the case the majority of the time. Growing up sensing that most people would rather be my friend rather than be my enemy, I still carry that sensibility with me ever after and it is mostly your fault.

To all the lovers I have had in my life (and yes I remember every one of you quite well), know that it is your fault that I believe myself to be beautiful and sexy despite the media's constant reminders of how unacceptably ugly I am. Despite my realistic understanding of how I am superficially viewed by society, I still believe myself to be attractive and worthy of love and lust anyway. Even on days when I look in the mirror and feel hideous, I remember some of you specificly and know my feelings are merely transitory flights of fancy that, although shared by society-at-large, ultimately do not matter to the people who are important. It is your fault that I care enough to wear nice clothes occasionally, put on makeup and parade about as if I am someone who makes others feel good just by being near. I blame you for my persistant belief in the individual nature of people's libidinous preferences. Even though society never fails to remind me of how I should lock myself away in shame and never expect love or sexual contact, I didn't and it is your fault.

To all the intimate relationships I have had in my life, (need I say it?) know that it is your fault that I expect courtesy and respect in every relationship I had after you. Despite the arguments, the tears, the broken hearts and the near-misses that we went through, I retained an immense measure of caring and love for each one of you that reamins to this day. It is your fault that I carry these friendships with me still despite having declared our intimacy to be finalized or cut-short. The fact that nearly all of your chose to remain friends with me, keep in touch with me and share yourselves with me in spite of our relationship "failings" convinced me then as now that good people sometimes cannot make an intimate relationship but that does not mean they cannot still be close. Because of all your attempts to help me grow and change, whether or not it worked and whether or not it helped our intimacy, I keep all of you in my heart and consider all of you people who are more than deserving of not only my love but all the goodness the universe has to offer. Because each of you has remained true to your word to love me despite our "break ups" I still believe that love holds fast whatever changes occur in a relationship. I would not be so happy to call you "friend" were it not for your ability to focus on our good ties, rather than the things that pulled us apart. I blame you for my ability to listen, grow and change after I should have stopped growing and changing. I especially blame you for my desire to do so with grace and love since you all were so understanding and patient with me whenever I was not being graceful or loving in my changes.

To my children and everyone in my extended family, know that it is your fault I believe in such things as loyalty and truth. Were it not for all of you constantly supporting me and helping me through everythign I have gone through, I would not be as secure and honest as I am. It is your fault I expect greatness of spirit and and ready to embrace failure as a lesson learned. Were it not for your ever-present belief in my ability to overcome obstacles and the security of knowing you were always there to help me pick up the pieces of a life gone awry, I would not be as grounded as I am today. It is your fault I am ready to accept defeat but keep on fighting, your fault I am happy to find new lessons in someone elses changes and your fault I reaffirm my own competance on a daily basis. You always believed in me, even when I was falling and because of you I am ever-ready to keep trying. You all taught me how to fight for what you want, what you believe and what you know is right. I would not be a paladin if it weren't for all of you showing me how to crusade and giving me reasons to crusade.

To my husband... not one lesson in my life compares to everything I have gained since being with you.

I used to say that I was lucky growing up... now I know that I just had "a life"; luck had nothing to do with it. All I received? It's all around and everywhere... just look for it and I bet you can find it too.

I remember the times when my boys were told by their "father" that he was coming for a visit. I remember times when one of them (sometimes SNTw, sometimes SNTh) would put a chair outside on the porch to watch for "daddy". I remember being asked again and again, "where's daddy?" and having to answer "I don't know" I remember calling him up time and again and screaming at him not to tell them he was coming anymore, to just stop hurting them like that, to just make up his mind and either come or don't. I remember the one time he showed up and I was late and his girlfriend called me up and bitched me out, accusing ME of trying to sabotage his feeble attempts. I remember him showing up once to babysit for me and telling me he and his girlfriend were going to use my house to "kick" and then locking themselves in SNO's room. I remember that my roommates rent money went missing after that night. I remember waiting all day, a month after our breakup, for him to show up as promised and finally going looking for him and finding him in L5P at a shop, flirting with a girl. I remember dragging him outside, having a screaming fight with him in the plaza and slapping him when he tried to act like I had somehow avoided him. I remember talking to him on the phone time and time again while he blabbed on and on about his latest sexual exploits and then hearing silence when I asked "so is this why have you ditched your visitation for the last four months?" I remember a girlfriend of his trying to excuse his lack of involvement with his oldest son by saying "well he's trying but your son makes it so difficult..." as if the fault somehow lie with an 8 year old child. I remember my oldest son having a silent pouting fit one night because he hadn't seen his father in so long so I finally just took him over to the shooting gallery his father lived in and let him stay the night. I remember not being able to sleep because i was so worried about my son being in a place where I knew crime and junkies were all around him. I remember finding out that my boys weren't actually spending their whole weekends with their "father" because he had been working every Saturday and getting his girlfriend to watch them. I remember one of his roommates (a former good friend of mine) telling me he didn't mind the kids being over every weekend but he wished my ex would watch them himself instead of always popping off somewhere else and silently expecting his roommates to watch them instead. I remember hearing about where he was moving to and knowing, without a doubt that he had definitely become a junkie for real. I remember all these things and I really wish I didn't.

DEFINITIONS

responsible person - a person who makes sure that their promises are kept and their obligations are met even when something gets in the way and situations change

asshole - a person who refuses to allow for the validity of other people's feelings, needs and/or desires despite being made aware of these discrepancies


shallow - a person who values appearance above more philosophical qualities

hypocrite - a person who places expectations and demands upon people that they themselves refuse to meet and justifies this position by argument of exemption ("I'm special so that doesn't apply to ME")

liar - a person who deliberately deceives and misleads people as well as attempting to instill trust under false pretenses

manipulator - a person who uses psychological techniques to get what they want especially using personal information to gain the upper hand against someone in particular

when my half-brother was diagnosed (multiple mental disabilities) my mother fell apart. My father retreated and we all shielded my younger half-brother from the extent of RObin's illnesses and dad's alcoholism as well. By the time he was a teenager, he basically ignored everythign wrong in the family. He did not take responsibility for anyone and went about his merry little way. Through the years, I have always been there for my family, and I have done whatever they asked of me to help them. They rarely asked my brother for anything and kept some certain knowledge from him. I babysat my disabled brother, I kept him and went to meetings with my mother about taking care of him. I even took some classes in sign language back when we thought he might be able to learn it (he wasn't)

Then when my brother graduated from college, he decided to make amovie about our disabled brother. He interviewed people and researched conditions and took up a lot of people's time energy and trust. Was that film ever made? Nope. Was I interviewed? Nope. But everyone still acts like he's the savior just because one day he decided to make a film. NO one noticed that I'm not anywhere in that movie. No one mentioned to my brother that in everyone he interviewed, he shows no contribution to our disabled brother at all.

Sometimes you do the right thing, and no one says "thank you" or "good job" or even "well at least you did the right thing"

Do some flashy half-assed last minute thing and everyone's kissing your butt.

It didn't used to bother me, but lately, it does.

It's a vague word, when you think about it. It basically means "pleasing in a way that touches upon feelings of protectiveness and adoration". Kittens are cute (favorite phrase of mine). A twinkle in the eye can be cute. A pretty picture can be cute. People can be cute and so can babies.

The way guys are "cute" is not the same way girls are "cute" usually. Cute does not always equal sexy. This is especially true for kittens, babies and pretty pictures. When said about a person, it can be not a good thing.

I have been called "cute' all my life. Frankly, I hated it. I didn't want to be cute, I wanted to sultry. I wanted to cultivate an air of mystery and provocative sensuality, but I sure didn't want to be "cute". "Cute" and "sultry" cannot coexist.

The problem, of course, is not just that one always desires to be what one cannot, the problem is that what one is foremost ends up erasing what one is underneath. Being "cute" does not have to mean that one is not sexy, sensual or even sultry, it only means that one cannot be both at the same time. I learned that being seen as "cute" right off the bat usually meant that all chances for displaying other qualities are lost. Being seen as "cute" means that the holder of said opinion will probably never appreciate my sexy moments, my sensual moments, my intellectual moments, my strong moments or even my abrasive moments except as being "out-of-character".

anytime I think about son number two I feel a catch in my throat. I know I've said this before but I just can't stand it sometimes. There are so many things about him that are so good... but behind everything he is is this damned "disorder". It makes everything so different sometimes. We consider it when we make plans: how long can we stay before he gets overwrought? What kind of place is it so that he will be comfortable? How many people will there be? Is today a day that he feels social? How much stimulation can he deal with today?

And on and on...

When he is frustrated it is so difficult for all of us.

Sometimes his anger hurts me; listening to him struggle with something that other children don't think twice on and not being able to talk about it properly.
Sometimes his anger annoys me; listening to him complain with the exact same words OVER AND OVER for HOURS can try anyone's patience.
Sometimes his anger baffles me; trying to explain to him that things are not as they seem, that things will be better in just a few /iminutes, please be patient ...oh lord give me something to get through to this child!
Sometimes his anger embarrasses me; having him babble at me is bad enough, but watching him accost friends and strangers in order to solicit a positive response is just mortifying at times.
Sometimes his anger distracts me; I have more than one son and I am determined to give them all equal time but he does not see the reasoning behind this resolution.

I just want to do what I can do, but it never seems enough sometimes. This "disorder", this DISEASE permeates everything in my life until I just want to scream and shake it out of him. Then I remember that no matter how much I am troubled by this problem, HE is the one who lives with it everyday. Then I am ashamed for being anything but understanding to him. How would I react if language was a mystery to me? How would I feel if I couldn't explain the simplest of problems to other people?
how would I feel if I was dropped down in the middle of a culture whose every word sounded familiar but was still not my own? If I moved in a society whose motivations and rituals and mores were just so alien to me?

Could I keep my head up through this life? Could I keep on trying like he does? How long would I be there before I gave up? How long would I try before becoming a hermitous cynic?

I know many cynics. I will never be one. I watch my second son keep trying all the time; I watch my two other sons persist in helping him and loving him. I watch new friends warm to him and attempt to connnect with him. I watch teachers, friends, family and strangers even, interact with him and allow for his differences.

How could I ever believe this world is anything but worth hope when I see all he fights against and how many people help him in his fight?

My life may piss me off sometimes, but I know that its all there for me.... everything I need. The universe offers me love life and happiness everyday. I'm just trying to figure out how to grasp it without being afraid. I'm trying to figure out how to accept it and hand it around with wisdom. If my little guy can find reasons for pushing onward, I can only humbly do the same. He has been handed so little in so many areas that we take for granted, how petty would I be to refuse what he is not allowed to have.

I try, yes I do, to honor son's fight by always keeping my hopes up. I want so much to be worthy of his faith in me and humanity.