tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-90489935862595828232024-03-21T14:49:56.121-05:00The Green Bean GirlI used to think people who claimed daily to be "sick" were just lazy, weak complainers, until a series of unfortunate events left me barely functioning. Here, I chronicle my triumph over illness using the methods I learned from healing my son's autism.Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-71206472711564725372017-08-12T10:17:00.000-05:002017-08-12T10:17:33.261-05:00What Grandma and a Black Cat Teach Me About Life
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">When I woke up this morning, I remembered the daunting “to
do” list I penned before drifting off to sleep.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>There is always so much to do on Saturdays.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>My husband has the Explorer during the week,
and even though I use it in the evenings after he gets home, it seems like I’m
always rushing to do the bare minimum to put food on the table or some other
necessity.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Not having a car during
regular business hours makes it difficult to do many things, like pay the water
bill for example.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Somehow, we make it
work.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But on Saturdays, things tend to
pile up.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">So this morning, in preparation for the big day ahead, I get
out my IonCleanse and shake up some ketones and start to write.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I need to be in a state of peace and calm so
I can tackle this day with ease.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Our black male cat climbs on my lap to greet me.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Our neighbor’s dog found him as a little feral kitten….eyes closed
and just big enough to fit in the palm of your hand….about three years ago.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He is so interesting, as he is far different
from our two female farm cats we “adopted” about ten years ago.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Part of it is probably gender, but most of it
seems to be a struggle from within his own mind daily, where he fights his
instincts to be wild and his actual life of being domesticated.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">I’ve been practicing something I learned in the book “Love
Warrior” by Glennon Doyle Melton.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Breathing.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Taking baby steps so I
can learn how to be in the moment, enjoy life and not worry and be afraid so
much.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>This cat is helping me.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Because he comes from a long line of feral cats, he has to
fight his instincts to bite and attack when he gets scared because he has let
his guard down.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>We have gotten so used
to his bites….literally mid purr……but it’s hard to fully relax and enjoy the
time he “chooses” us to love.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">When he jumps on my chest and begins to purr, my chest
tightens and my heart is in my throat.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>He is soft, black, sleek and beautiful…..but so skittish, that it’s rare
he chooses anyone at all to love.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>So you
feel special, but you feel scared.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>At
any moment he will jump away at the slightest noise, pushing with his strong
muscly legs and digging in with his claws.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>If he does stay on your lap a while and purr and rub his face on yours,
you feel his sweetness, but know that in about five minutes, he will probably
bite your face or neck.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">It’s so strange to think and feel so many things about a
five minute experience that may or may not happen every day, but I think it’s
so powerful because it is about love.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">I don’t feed this cat or change his litter box.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I throw his toy for him to fetch now and
again.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I’m calm.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And yet he “chooses” me to show me he loves
me, for however brief and fleeting the moment.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>He isn’t asking for anything in return, really.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And I don’t have to work hard to get his
affection.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">But I’m not completely enjoying these cuddle moments because
I am afraid the whole time of being bit or scratched.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">So, I take a lesson from “Love Warrior” and when he jumps on
my chest this morning, I stop what I’m doing and I breathe.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I tell myself, “So what if he bites me?<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He doesn’t break the skin.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It only hurts for a second and we are both
back to our day.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He doesn’t mean to hurt
me.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Just enjoy this pure form of love
from this kitty.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Just accept it and let
it fill you up with peace and love to help fuel you throughout your day.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And just like that, I breathed in and out….and
the moment was over and he jumped painfully away and sat at my feet.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It was over and done, but the experience was
better.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">I’m learning how not to live in fear….just waiting for the
next moment to escape situations that make me uncomfortable.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I am always in the “flight” mode of ‘fight or
flight’…..and what I’ve realized is that when things get tough, I need to
acknowledge my feelings and express them appropriately, so I am better at
handling stressful situations.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Being a naturally introspective and reflective person, I’ve
been wanting to write about my recent experience with my Grandmother.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>There is so much about the experience to
share and discuss, I can’t cover it all in one sitting. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Amongst all of this morning’s ramblings, what I wanted to
address was this simple fact:</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">One’s worth is not determined by how much they get done in
one day.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">I was a strong believer that this was a false statement
until the experiences of late.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">My Grandma is 89 years old and she has led a very busy
life.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her days until becoming bed ridden
were ended with crossed off “to do” lists and a feeling of accomplishment.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>When she had to rest her legs as she got
older, she would spend her time reading the newspaper, writing in her diaries
and working puzzle books.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“I’ve never
been bored!”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She used to say. “There is
always something to do.”<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And she did
it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Cleaning and cooking were the top
priorities because that’s how she took care of her family.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>She was the matriarch of the family with no
one even coming in as a close second.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>Grandma had a listening ear for everyone’s troubles with an empathetic
hug and she cheered for all our victories with enthusiasm.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Many of us in the family thought she was
invincible….our own elderly energizer bunny.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Until she wasn’t.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Her sciatic nerve had been a problem for decades….slowing
her down in mornings….being a nuisance, is what she called it. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It took her a while to get going in the
mornings because her leg felt numb and as time went on, she would need to sit
and rest it after about 10 minutes of walking.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>She never really expressed the pain she was in….she knew It would pass
and people in her day didn’t discuss such things.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>“It’s just old age.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Happens to everyone.”</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Not getting out of bed and being productive in a day was
Grandma’s idea of a death sentence.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>And
yet, one day, the pain from her leg and the arthritis in her back was so severe
she could not leave her bed.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>For days.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Which turned into weeks.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">This situation is so difficult for so many reasons.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The one I’m focusing on today, is how my
Grandma felt losing her ability to be productive….to physically work.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Her tears each day were not just because of
her pain, but because she felt worthless. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">All of us who love grandma, love her because of who she is,
not what she can do.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But she feels like
she is not a value to her family if she can’t “do”.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Up until this point, I would have argued the same.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>If any person on this earth is not working
hard, they are less valuable to me and less valuable to society.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Our love should not be conditional to the amount of physical
work someone does in a day, yet we tend to think its okay to look down on
someone who is “lazy”.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Maybe that is
different, because being lazy is a choice, when you are able to do things but
don’t and you rely on someone else to do it for you.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Being physically or mentally unable to take care of things
doesn’t make you worthless.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Infants are helpless and completely rely on someone else to
do everything for them, yet we love them unconditionally.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>I can’t imagine a love more pure for my son
with autism, who needs help with many things and might never live on his
own.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>He brings me so much joy and
richness into my life…..I wouldn’t trade him for anything.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">And I think back to this black cat…..rubbing against my
feet.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Aside from catching spiders and
lizards, he doesn’t do much of anything “productive”.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>In fact, he can be a literal pain.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>But he gives me so much joy in those sweet
moments we share……that he is worth it.<span style="margin: 0px;">
</span>He is worth it all.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Just as all
of God’s creations are.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Take the time to just breathe today.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Soak in the goodness and beauty in life that
is all around us.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Be patient and
forgiving. Realize your true value and worth in God’s eyes.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Remember that love and kindness and sincerity…..THAT is your
legacy.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Having your house dusted once a
week and your closets organized are worthy of our time, but they are not on God’s
list of requirements to get in to heaven.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Breathe.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Accept love
so you can give it.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Have FAITH replace
fear.<span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>Be present.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
<span style="font-family: calibri;">Happy Saturday </span><span style="font-family: Wingdings; margin: 0px;"><span style="margin: 0px;">J</span></span><span style="font-family: calibri;">
</span></div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: calibri;"></span>Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-58105026078465061882016-11-08T17:53:00.002-06:002016-11-08T17:53:56.837-06:00What is a typical American family doing on the eve of the most scandelous election in history?Today might be one of those moments in history....you know, where the world is forever changed and so people remember the mundane things you were doing at that exact moment "it" happened.<br />
<br />
In a few short hours, the craziest election in the history of the United States will be complete. The country is divided and some have promised riots and violence if the candidate chosen is unfavorable. Others have simply vowed to leave the country. It's a time of unknown. Reminds me somewhat of the uncertainty of December 1999 when Y2K was all anyone talked about and what everyone worried about. The collapse of our banking system. Seems almost laughable now. You mean we were worried about the banks? Seems pretty trivial in comparison.<br />
<br />
Tonight I sit typing this as I sit on a heating pad on my broken bed as my kid's gluten free and dairy free pizza cooks in the oven. It's an easy dinner night, as my back has kept me mostly immobile today. My house looks like it has imploded, with the contents of my desk overflowing onto the floor, looking like at any moment I could be swallowed alive by it's tide. From the living room I hear my husband's video game at the usual volume of "loud enough to wake the dead". It makes for interesting living arrangements when one as myself enjoys the calm and silence, while my significant other hasn't been able to hear well since the war.<br />
<br />
I wonder if we are a typical American family.<br />
<br />
Unfortunately, I think so.<br />
<br />
My husband is a physically disabled vet, with PTSD. He continues to work full-time so I can homeschool and take care of my adult son with autism.<br />
<br />
My chronic health issues, which made me "The Greenbean Girl" for a year, throw a monkey wrench in all I have to accomplish each day, due to my overwhelming family needs along with my very demanding religious obligations.<br />
<br />
My life is busy. And stressful. But I think most Americans could swap out a comparable thing or two about my life and be in the same boat.<br />
<br />
The SS "How do I make it through today?"<br />
<br />
And here we all sit, on the eve of the biggest election, and think....how can I possibly handle life getting <em>worse</em>.<br />
<br />
That is not to say I don't count my blessings or that I think I have a terrible life or the worst life. Not at all.<br />
<br />
I just don't know if I can handle more. More struggles, more trials....Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-76273677534471432552016-11-01T10:25:00.003-05:002016-11-01T10:26:49.584-05:00Being Grateful is Not the Same as Being Happy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I've always thought of myself as a pretty grateful person. Autism has given me a unique perspective of what is truly important in life and disregards things that don't matter in the long run. <br />
However, it occurred to me this morning, that despite "counting my blessings", I couldn't use the word "happy" to describe myself. Words like, "worried", "frustrated", "busy", "scattered" are a much better fit. So why can't I be happy?<br />
<br />
I've seen the "Happiness Is a Choice" memes, and I always thought of it as an obvious yet necessary statement to people who had everything but chose to be unsatisfied. Today it takes on a new meaning for me.<br />
<a name='more'></a><br />
<br />
Life isn't perfect for anyone. But life is short and can be over in the blink of an eye. Your done. That's all you get. Now, you only exist in memories of your loved ones on this earth....and what kind of memories are those going to be?<br />
<br />
I don't want my kids to remember me as a busy, worried person, who has no time to have fun or enjoy anything.<br />
<br />
When your health keeps you from being your true self, it is extremely frustrating. It sets a road block up keeping you from your accomplishments and desires. Chronic illness robs one of happiness....but I think...only if you let it.<br />
<br />
What if all of us make a conscious effort to be happy despite the world crumbling around us. Laugh! Let go! Just be in the moment instead of counting how many ways we've failed that day...week...month...<br />
<br />
It doesn't happen overnight. It's something you need to work at every day so you don't slip back into the negative self talk. Yes...."things" are bad, but what is good about this moment? <br />
<br />
My goal is to be happy and enjoy my life. <br />
<br />
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#no filter</div>
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#resistingurgetopointoutflaws</div>
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#neverbeanothermomentlikethis</div>
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Things will never be perfect. I will always feel like I'm not doing enough for my kids. There will never be enough money for everything we need. I will always have dietary restrictions. I will always be busy and overwhelmed. Just writing that feels so hopeless.<br />
<br />
There will be a time when life is perfect. I will feel content in all I have done for my children, and they will become, kind, loving Christians, who are productive and selfless. We will have enough money for everything we need. My body and mind will be healed of all challenges.<br />
<br />
Now that makes me feel better. <br />
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Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-28227826406264161492016-01-05T22:38:00.000-06:002016-01-05T22:38:04.035-06:00Just because I don't "look sick" doesn't mean it's all in my head<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I really need to change the synopsis of this blog. As far as using what I've learned from healing autism to heal myself? I guess if you count the fact that I'm not dead. Then, maybe that still applies. However, the fact is, I am...right now in this moment...probably the sickest I have ever been.<br />
<br />
I get that you are tired of hearing about me being sick. And I can tell you that I am absolutely fed up with it. It isn't fair that I should be so sick for so long. <br />
<br />
Those of you who are lucky enough to endure the flu or seasonal allergies can't possibly imagine how hard it is to exist every single day when there is no end in sight....especially when you "look fine" for the most part.<br />
<br />
On my worst days, I've taken selfie after selfie. I'm looking to see if my illness is noticeable. Can you see how I am dying on the inside?<br />
<br />
Today was one of the worst days. My whole body ached and I was laying in my bed, sort of contorted to position myself on pillows to push against the severe pulsating pain in my abdomen. I finally felt no pain and in an attempt to stay completely still, I felt myself start to drool....I hadn't realized my mouth was open. I looked at the clock. I had 22 minutes until I had to start dinner. I watched the clock, giving myself a pep talk as I counted down the time. "When it says 4:00 you HAVE to get up and make dinner." It was my mantra. And I did it.<br />
<br />
You see, even though I feel like death, I'm first and foremost a mom and a wife and I don't get "sick days" very often. Those are reserved for the days with the nauseating migraines, and the only reason I get to be off duty is because of my crying, wailing and hitting myself in the head with a hard covered book. I'm not being dramatic. This is real. This is my life.<br />
<br />
I'm working on my third year in Texas and I've become increasingly ill with each passing day. Some have grown tired of my insistence when I "look fine" and insist it must all be in my head.<br />
<br />
When I did the Emotion Code, the woman told me I had a trapped emotion and I felt like I didn't deserve to be well. That may be the case, but that is far from making it all up or inventing problems.<br />
<br />
I don't need any more drama in my life. I have a son with autism and another teenage son, both of which I homeschool. I work in my church nursery with little one's ages 18 months to three years. I take my children to a church seminary class. My husband has a TBI, PTSD and is in chronic pain and cannot contribute to any household duties. Everything, from bills to laundry, is my responsibility. I try to contribute to the household income by babysitting and cleaning houses.<br />
<br />
I'm not writing this to get pity. I'm writing this in my own defense, as it has come to my attention some people think all of my issues are in my head.<br />
<br />
I wish they were. That seems like it would be an easy fix. Maybe hypnotism or something.<br />
<br />
The plethora of symptoms I experience are very real and very debilitating. I can't even just eat food, One of the basics of survival, without some kind of reaction, pain or swelling.<br />
<br />
Do you know what it's like to wake up and not be able to think? To REALLY struggle to just get your thoughts? And you keep thinking, ok....this will pass....I will snap out of it....but pretty soon it's noon and you've barely been coherent. Can you tell anyone? No one gets it and they think it can't possibly be that bad...or how could you homeschool?<br />
<br />
"Why don't you go to the doctor?" Like they would know just what to do, right? When I did have insurance, they couldn't find anything. Now, my husband's company is small enough they don't have to legally offer insurance and we make too much money for any assistance.<br />
<br />
I have tried so many things. I have tried SO MANY THINGS. <i>Things are expensive.</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
In the end, it doesn't really matter what I'm doing or not doing or what you think I should be doing or shouldn't be doing. Please, please.....stop judging me and thinking you know me and what I'm going through. I am sick and just because I'm not actually in the hospital, doesn't mean I probably shouldn't be. Or that I must be fine, or I'm dramatic. By the pure grace of God I get up each morning and once in a while I have a decent day where I feel a little better. By God's grace I can still take care of my family. <br />
<br />
Just please....please stop thinking you know me and you know what I'm going through. I will never tell you to your face how awful I feel or that I can't handle it....but on the inside I wonder if I'll make it through the day.<br />
<br />
Show some compassion.<br />
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<br />Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-19477074812754724642016-01-05T21:54:00.001-06:002016-01-05T21:54:45.728-06:00Just because I don't enjoy running, doesn't mean I'm lazy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ioHYbO23RUuQ3KUuRXKK3wL4Mt9d4PPsnew37m7J6f79CGbYHoeGgt9fBsDeXAIAyIxv47KK-tVZvp3qdiH0qMeW5uzEQmeRM9StaK1hbx-jbrORHkSRWfaHqS6K2dVgC3gNS6JBTM8/s1600/20150901_155147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5ioHYbO23RUuQ3KUuRXKK3wL4Mt9d4PPsnew37m7J6f79CGbYHoeGgt9fBsDeXAIAyIxv47KK-tVZvp3qdiH0qMeW5uzEQmeRM9StaK1hbx-jbrORHkSRWfaHqS6K2dVgC3gNS6JBTM8/s320/20150901_155147.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
Running is the "it" thing. Everyone wants to run a 5K and there is a marathon for just about every organization and cause on the planet.<br />
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You're not cool, unless you run a 5K.<br />
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And if you are lucky enough to have the bragging rights of a half-marathon, WELL.....just. wait. until you can look down your noses at all of us when you run your first <i>real</i> marathon!<br />
<br />
In all seriousness, there are lots of people who run daily and participate in these events who are not judgmental. In fact, my sister in law is one of those avid runner show offs with the cute running attire and perfectly fitted expensive shoes holding a medal or wearing a sash. She loves it. It's her "thing" and I applaud her for it. I really do. I am in awe.<br />
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But there are people I have encountered who make you feel like a worthless pile of crap if the idea of running for FUN isn't exactly appealing to you.<br />
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Just because I don't want to run, doesn't make me lazy. <br />
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It's just not my idea of fun. Getting up early. Braving the weather...rain or shine...hot or cold. Did I mention the <i>sweating</i>? This is the opposite of fun for me.<br />
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I really enjoy musicals and theater. My husband despises them. He doesn't understand how singing in the middle of a show adds anything to it except noise. Is he uneducated? Does that make him a complete loser? (ummm....that's a loaded question....I digress)<br />
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I am tired of being judged because I don't enjoy running or hiking or playing football or soccer. Not everyone is particularly coordinated to do these things.<br />
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Should I be active to stay healthy? Of course. But if I choose to walk on the treadmill, why should I be made to feel inferior?<br />
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What many people don't realize is how debilitating allergies can be fore some people. Being outside is not enjoyable when your asthma and/or allergies kick in and make you sick and miserable for days. Maybe that sounds like an excuse, but until you've walked in my shoes, please don't judge my lack of trudging about in the wilderness.<br />
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I enjoy different forms of exercise like swimming and dancing. <br />
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All the name calling, back biting and superiority is what keeps women from being able to be good friends to each other. We need to seriously take a look at our perception of others, and think about how we would feel in their shoes. Not everyone has to have the same "likes" to be of value. Not everyone who doesn't <i>run for fun</i> is a fat lazy loser. And it definitely doesn't make you better than me.<br />
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<br />Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-47704222487772164352015-12-19T22:03:00.004-06:002015-12-19T22:04:16.092-06:00An Evening ReflectionIt's been 8 months since I've written.<br />
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I have a lot on my mind tonight....and a functioning computer.<br />
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At different moments in my life, I have stopped with serious pondering, to consider the idea of repeating mistakes. Do I keep making the same mistake over and over, setting myself up for failure?<br />
Am I repeating my parents mistakes in some sort of crazy cosmic karma....a loop in time destined to repeat for eternity.<br />
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My mom wanted me to take the road of life that she wished she had. Even now, I wonder if she still isn't disappointed that I did not become a successful career woman earning a six figure income. Loving me and nurturing me as a young child was in a way to encourage the future she so desperately wanted.<br />
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Those memories of disappointment remain fresh in my mind, even though I am doing the most important work of my life. <br />
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I don't want my son making the same mistakes I have, either. Every night in my prayers, I ask God to make him stronger and wiser so he doesn't have to suffer the way I have.<br />
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If he doesn't, will I spend the rest of my life in constant disappointment? Or will I be proud of him regardless?<br />
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Eerie similarities. <br />
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As much as my mother wanted me not to repeat her mistakes, I have fought just as hard to do the same. Yet tonight, I find myself in the situation I have been running from my whole life.<br />
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Is my son going to spend his life trying to avoid making the mistakes I did? Will it consume his everyday thoughts?<br />
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Giving up is not in my nature. What I "used to be" and "used to do" are phrases that haunt me. I need to be that person NOW. I need to find her and get her back in the game of life. Being a "good mom"/ "good wife"/ has to be consistent throughout one's life. So many excuses plague me. <br />
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Enough is enough.<br />
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Let me off this spiral.<br />
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<br />Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-52795025592237105732015-02-27T13:34:00.000-06:002015-02-27T13:34:08.686-06:00What is a Salicylate?<br />
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Green Bean Girl has been M.I.A....</div>
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A little over a week ago, I had a great
conversation with my pal Beaker from Team TMR. My symptoms had me in
a whirlwind and I was so overwhelmed I wasn't seeing the patterns
anymore. The more I learned about food, the less sense any of it
made.
</div>
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Although I have gut issues, and an
allergy to candida, sugar did not make me feel nearly as bad as
eating an apple or raw vegetables.
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Meanwhile, the wheat allergy I had
easily managed for years, turned into a 7-10 day horrific event from
even the slightest infraction. My stomach would blow up like a
balloon covered in painful itchy welts. The pain was so severe, I
would alternate covering my stomach with ice packs and peppermint
oil.</div>
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I also have a confirmed allergy to
dairy. It has given me clogged sinuses, mucus, skin rashes and brain
fog in the past. But since moving to Texas, everything changed.
Different cheeses cause very different reactions. But plain ice
cream doesn't have much effect.
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Oh, and now when I eat cooked onions, I
get boils on my cheeks.</div>
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Lovely, huh?</div>
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So, when I started breaking out into
hives from green beans? Well, I was about ready to give up.</div>
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I started really researching Histamine
and Histamine rich foods. I began taking a DAO enzyme supplement to
help my body get rid of the histamine. I was doing some better...but
why did it seem like the supplement only helped with some food
reactions and not others.</div>
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Cue the beautiful and brilliant Beaker.</div>
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She taught me about salicylates.
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Essentially, salicylates are natures
natural pesticide in fruits and vegetables. And some people are very
sensitive to them.</div>
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I read many food lists to see what the
offenders could be. After becoming aware, I took out some major
players in my daily routine.</div>
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1)Peppermint Oil and Peppermints</div>
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Twice a day I took peppermint oil in
capsules and was a peppermint and Altoid junkie. I even used
peppermint toothpaste, body and face wash.</div>
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2)Licorice Root Digestive Enzyme</div>
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Taken with everything I ate.</div>
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3)Coconut Oil</div>
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Coconut Oil was a huge part of my daily
life, as was Peppermint Oil. I used it to coat and cook all my food,
as well as lotion and deodorant.</div>
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As I continued down the food lists, I
noticed that many of the foods that I reacted to that were not high
histamine, were high salicylate. And if they were both, high
salicylate and high histamine, well, my DAO enzyme just didn't seem
to work.
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A lot of things are starting to make
sense, and I'm hoping now by reducing my salicylate load, my body
will not be in constant crisis, and I can start to heal.</div>
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A few other key points:</div>
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-I was using calcium for migraines.
Ditched it when I learned calcium makes mast cells explode.</div>
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-I was dependent on high doses of
magnesium, which seems to be one of the key elements in healing this
type of illness.</div>
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<br /></div>
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-B vitamins and aminos had been a real
help to me in the past and came up again as keys to healing.</div>
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I'm hoping these few changes will make
all the difference. It may take 4-6 weeks to rid my body of the salicylate stores. <br />
<br />
here goes nothin'</div>
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<br /></div>
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-20636639102945320822015-02-16T13:42:00.001-06:002015-02-16T13:48:06.558-06:00How I Immediately Dismissed the MMR/Autism Link<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gwL42AZliPReZUo5bJwH2J7ko6lUmYRMK3KjHiBRZa-w4mqgdt9T0N6ymEmYMIRp0CFAjjrB5JUICt1V4gSA1cXIa1U1d4ZNxSW86V3SsqLgXMfdYHF4ZmMdpbVSz5ponBaVPBpkWaA/s1600/Me+and+Tris.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5gwL42AZliPReZUo5bJwH2J7ko6lUmYRMK3KjHiBRZa-w4mqgdt9T0N6ymEmYMIRp0CFAjjrB5JUICt1V4gSA1cXIa1U1d4ZNxSW86V3SsqLgXMfdYHF4ZmMdpbVSz5ponBaVPBpkWaA/s1600/Me+and+Tris.jpg" height="320" width="179" /></a></div>
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I was visiting my Grandmother and she was reading over the paper as she did every morning. She shouted to me from the other room, “Did you hear this? It says there might be a link between autism and the MMR.”<br />
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“Sounds like a bunch of sad angry parents looking for someone to blame.”</div>
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I didn't read the article. I didn't even ask her for any details. I completely dismissed it. It was an incredulous idea....a childhood vaccination having anything to do with autism. Why would doctors expose infants and children to such a thing? It couldn't possibly be true.</div>
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I went on for years never hearing about it again. </div>
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During that time, I was focused on teaching my son. I was involved in his school and talked daily with his teachers, aides and therapists. I continued behavior plans and followed through with expectations at home. </div>
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I was focused and never strayed.</div>
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I was never in an autism support group; never even heard of one.</div>
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I never searched the internet about autism or tried to find other moms online. It was relatively new and I didn't have time.</div>
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I had two little kids who were constantly sick even though they never went to daycare. I was overcome with worry and took them to doctors, who never seemed too concerned and never really helped.</div>
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When Tristen was about 9 years old, I received a book for my birthday from my mother-in-law. It talked about kids like him who were chronically ill. The kids described in the book had the same issues my kids did. This was the first time I had some kind of direction how to get my kids healthy.</div>
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I took him to a new doctor who tested his blood. He told me how sick he was and that most of the vaccines he had been given had not provided him with immunity. I was shocked that I had done what I was told by our previous doctors, and put him through so much trauma, just to have them not work. This is where I started to question what had been taught to me my whole life.</div>
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I started to look back through their baby books and journals. I started to see where they had been affected by their vaccinations. My youngest son, Tanner, even had a severe reaction to the DTP where the doctor who finally stabilized him told me he should never have that vaccine again. The next doctor we saw disagreed and mocked me for my concerns. There were all these red flags never set right with me, but I didn't know what to do about it. Everything started to come together.</div>
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I wanted to continue to learn more about how to heal my son's health issues so I decided to go to my first ever autism conference and meet people who were just like me.</div>
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Jenny McCarthy was a keynote speaker that year, and it was the first time I had heard about her since she was on MTV's Singled Out.<br />
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I took what I learned about autism and vaccines from lecturing doctors I met in person. And lots and LOTS of books. </div>
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I never believed the headline my Grandmother read to me 15 years ago, because it was easier to dismiss. Juggling a 2 year old with autism and a newborn baby while my husband was deployed left no time or energy to go down a rabbit hole of questioning everything I had ever been taught.</div>
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Last year I learned about the CDC covering up a link between the MMR vaccine and autism. They knew if the children received that vaccination on time (at 12 moths per the CDC recommendation) there was a dramatic increase in chance of autism. They found it in their own study, and they covered it up.</div>
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I'm not saying the MMR caused my son's autism, but it has definitely caused some kid's autism.</div>
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It is easy to dismiss something when it seems it can't possibly be true....when deep down you don't want it to be true because it upsets the foundation of what your life has been based on....being responsible and following the rules.</div>
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I didn't join in some Jenny McCarthy groupie fan club to gain this opinion.<br />
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I didn't have any influence from any autism groups or any other autism mom's. <br />
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My thoughts are based on my life experiences with my kids and what makes sense to me from reading package inserts and published medical journal articles.<br />
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Don't believe me just because I said so.<br />
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Check it out for yourself. <br />
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Find out the real facts for yourself.<br />
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You don't want a snap judgment to leave you with regrets.Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-48028537499939595892014-09-22T14:51:00.005-05:002014-09-22T14:51:56.157-05:00Autism Mom Needs Help Kicking Cancer
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Mortality.</div>
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We may not remember at what exact point
in our lives we realized it, but I bet you have all thought about it.</div>
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Death.</div>
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What will happen when I die? Where
will I go? Will I cease to exist?</div>
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Many have religious beliefs that help
with these questions, but whether you do or not doesn't really
matter, because despite the answers, we still have these questions:</div>
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Will it hurt? When will it happen?
Will it catch me off guard?</div>
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These questions can be more plaguing,
and most will try to live their lives cautiously to avoid an untimely
death. But it's mostly out of our control. Most of us don't get to
decide the logistics.</div>
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I remember the moment when I really
began to fear death.</div>
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It was shortly after my first child was
born.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Like being slapped in the face, I was
hit with the thought of what would happen to my child if I were not
around to take care of him. Panic instantly set in as I went over
lists of names in my head of family and friends who could possibly
take on this responsibility.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
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More questions.</div>
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</div>
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Are they already good parents?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Do they have the ability to care for a
child?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Do they have the monetary means?</div>
<br />
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Would they be willing to take on the
responsibility?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
If you've had this experience, I'd many
of you have easy answers to those questions. You know good,
kind-heart-ed, competent, willing family members who would be
fighting over the opportunity to step up in such a tragic
circumstance.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
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Some don't have such easy answers.</div>
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<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe you don't have much family.
Maybe the family is willing but ill equipped. Maybe the ones closest
to you have struggles of their own. Maybe they would want to, but
couldn't.</div>
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<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
No matter what the answer...easy or
hard, it is something that really eats away at us as parents. Just
the thought of leaving our children like that in this world is enough
to shed tears, but to find a suitable substitute in some cases may be
near impossible.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will they love the child as you do?
Will they have patience? Will they teach them all the tools they
need to live a successful life? Will they be kind?</div>
<br />
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<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What if your child has a disability?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
What if every ounce of effort it takes
to raise that child on a daily basis is that times 10 of a typical
child? What if your patience level needs to be a thousand times?
Who is going to have that quality needed for your child?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When you see how the world looks and
interacts or ignores your child, so you have to be the advocate every
waking moment...who is going to fill your shoes?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This goes beyond being just a “parent”,
although I believe parenting is the most important job a person in
this world could have. This is a super-parent: an
up-all-night-calm-all-day kind of super being!</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will the person have what it takes to
continue to love this child when no one else does?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
All we have to do is look at the news
to see how autistic individuals are treated.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.wrdw.com/home/headlines/Report-Autistic-child-abused-by-Aiken-Co-teachers-aide-195158911.html">Abused
and neglected in schools</a>.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://www.dailymail.co.uk/video/news/video-1112871/WARNING-GRAPHIC-Man-beats-autistic-teen-party.html">Teased
and beaten by peers.</a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://dailycaller.com/2014/09/09/cops-find-punks-who-dumped-urine-filled-bucket-on-autistic-kid-in-ice-bucket-challenge/">Humiliated
for the world to see.</a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="http://healthland.time.com/2011/06/07/why-so-much-abuse-is-allowed-to-continue-in-residential-care/">Forgotten
and left alone.</a></div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
This is the fate of many individuals
who HAVE doting caregivers and loving homes.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Where will my child be if no one steps
up to the challenge?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Institutionalized?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Then there is the money. Who has the
disposable income for life-long care?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And if you are biomed or homeopathic?
Forget about it! Who is going to pay out of pocket when you can get
prescriptions practically for free?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will the person caring for my child
care about their special diet? Will they understand how important a
gluten free casein free diet is? Will they jump through hoops to
have similar alternatives at all extracurricular functions? Will
they cave to the peer pressure because they don't really understand
why they can't eat those foods? Will they buckle after seeing the
grocery bill for one week and switch to Ramen and Fruit Loops?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
And what can we do about it? We will
be helpless from wherever it is you believe we go after life on earth
is done.
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will that person understand their
needs?
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Maybe if my child had super-human
quality or trait to impress them. An impressive singer or dancer or
pianist. Or an impeccable memory. Impressive artistic abilities.
The world loves those kids.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
But what about the biters, pinchers,
scratchers and screamers? What if they can't tell you what they
want...what is hurting...what they need?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will they clean up the poop smears on
the walls day after day and still cuddle them at night when they want
to be loved?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will they change their diapers when
they are adults?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Will they cry out helplessly with every
seizure and pray for it to end?</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Children and adults with disabilities
need a kind of self less love that is unfortunately diminishing in
the world as we know it.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is heart-breaking and horrific to
think of any child losing a parent and not finding a loving home to
thrive in.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It is down right all consuming and
terrifying to leave an autistic child in this world without the ones
who understand them and depend on them the most.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
When we are doing all this worrying, we
are visualizing the 'what-if's'.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Well, 'what-if' you were an autism mom,
diagnosed with cancer.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Please, if you can, give anything at
all to help this mother diagnosed with cancer have more time with her
son.</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
<br />
<div dir="LTR" id="wrapper">
<div dir="LTR" id="main">
<div dir="LTR" id="container">
<div dir="LTR" id="content">
<div dir="LTR" id="post-17992">
<strong>If you would like to donate to our fundraising
campaign to support Mel and her family please <a href="http://t.co/LeZ12VJ2Q4" onclick="_gaq.push(['_trackEvent', 'outbound-article', 'http://t.co/LeZ12VJ2Q4', 'DONATE HERE']);" target="_blank">DONATE
HERE</a>: <a href="http://t.co/LeZ12VJ2Q4">http://t.co/LeZ12VJ2Q4</a></strong><br />
<br /><br />
<br />
<strong>And to read more about her and her story, check out
http://thinkingmomsrevolution.com/help-autism-mom-fight-breast-cancer/</strong><br />
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br />
</div>
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-83562409804657444222014-08-05T18:32:00.001-05:002014-08-05T18:32:57.571-05:00Trust Issues
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Our little kitten is growing fast.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is about three months old now and as mischievous
as ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A few weeks ago, he started
wanted to cuddle up to us at bedtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
waits for the house to get quiet and he scales the bed with expert ease and
gingerly walks up to my pillow, purring all the while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh how I want to cuddle and kiss this sweet
little rambunctious kitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obsidian
rubs his face across my face over and over again with a constant purr.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is hard not to melt into his cuddles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After a short minute he bites me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>More than a nibble…enough to really give you
a start.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I stop and say, “no no, kitty”
and l let him rub his face against mine….in a few seconds he bites me again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I move him away from me gently saying ‘no’
and cover my head with the blanket.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">After a few nights of this routine, we started to shut him
out of the bedroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We couldn’t trust
him not to bite us.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">The joke in the house is, “This cat has given me trust
issues.”</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">It wasn’t so funny when I realized it wasn’t the cat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have severe trust issues, because like this
kitten, I have someone in my life who catches me off guard and “bites”.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not in a literal sense, but an emotional
one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never know when it’s going to
happen…I’m just certain that it will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Obsidian rubs
his face against yours, your whole body tenses up, fearful for what is
coming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You can’t relax and really enjoy
the cuddles, because you know at any moment you will feel pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And telling a kitty “no” is little less than
a waste of breath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He pays you no mind,
unlike a puppy you scold to stop chewing the furniture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Puppies feel bad they disappointed you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cats just wait to do what they want when you
aren’t looking.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’ve realized I live in a state of constant fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And it’s not even physical…but mental and
emotional.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I never know when the other
shoe will drop and when my world is going to come crashing down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There’s big stuff, and there’s small stuff….but
no matter the anger, the tears, the lectures the threats…..it’s always easier
to ask for forgiveness than permission<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll do what I want now and just deal with it
when she finds out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></i></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Trying to explain how that feels….how you can feel so alone
and helpless and unloved when someone disregards your feelings in such a way…..I
don’t know how to put it into words…but the bottom line is It Sucks!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">What kind of person has no empathy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I think I’m dealing with a
personality disorder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I keep
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Sometimes I cry and cry thinking about how much it
hurts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes I’m numb. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How much longer will it last?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When can I be free from the fear?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t think I will ever completely trust a
person ever again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m broken on the
inside.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">How much time will I need to heal if I am ever free?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I ever fully heal?</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">I’m so tired. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just
want to have someone to trust.</span></div>
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-67352000841221570102014-05-30T15:32:00.002-05:002014-05-30T15:42:33.657-05:00School's Out For Summer!!!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/kvDPYOe-7nI?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<em></em><br />
<em></em><br />
<em>WE MADE IT!!</em><br />
<em></em><br />
What an incredible year it has been!<br />
<br />
Not only are we looking back at the 2013-2014 school year, as our first homeschooling year, but next month also marks one year of us living in our new southern location. <br />
<br />
So much has happened this year! It has gone by haphazardly fast...I can hardly believe it! <br />
<br />
I started out diving head-first into <a href="http://thyroidbook.com/">Hashimoto's disease</a> when we moved here last summer, and have been trying to claw my way out of that paper bag since. <br />
<br />
I frantically began to volunteer for my church, pleading for God's blessings from self-less service to help get me through my darkest hours. Soon, I became the leader of the teenage girl's youth program, demanding Sunday, Wednesday and many Saturday requirements.<br />
<br />
I was wonderfully blessed when I read a<a href="http://thinkingmomsrevolution.com/just-a-drop-natural-healing-with-essential-oils/"> blog</a> by The Thinking Mom's Revolution's magnificent DragonSlayer, giving me crucial answers to help me get my health back on track and regain some of my sanity!<br />
<br />
While struggling with the ups and downs of autoimmune disease, I somehow managed to find myself part of <a href="http://teamtmr.org/">TEAM TMR</a>, a non-profit grant program to help families with the financial burden that is all things autism. Before I knew it, I was immersed in writing a chapter for the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Evolution-Revolution-Healing-Helen-Conroy/dp/0977665348/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1401478488&sr=1-1&keywords=evolution+of+a+revolution+from+hope+to+healing">book</a> that would be sold to fund the <a href="http://teamtmr.org/grant/">grant</a> program, and forever nicknamed Green Bean Girl. <br />
<br />
My autism activist blood runs deep and I soon found myself at the <a href="http://www.theautismtrust.org/#!give-autism-a-chance/c21kz">Give Autism a Chance</a> Summit in Austin, Texas, where I was graciously welcomed in the home of my new warrior buddy, <a href="http://teamtmr.org/ebook/about-us/">Lone Star</a>, and her adorable family. There, I was introduced to another strong warrior member of our team, <a href="http://teamtmr.org/ebook/about-us/">Chief</a>, who writes about recovering her daughter in our book.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1ECei7kE9uXTw5QICHal2ZnR73pD9Ta5DyJCs-_ykEh9ytKSbR2TFqjQOhzexmFhxzF3NP0386vBvXBc-PXdsdYMGlKjbCEgKUfOzy_V9rAFDA39ahyGV3bMKJelE6OkUzV0L-kqsDQ/s1600/Chief,+LoneStar,+GBG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj1ECei7kE9uXTw5QICHal2ZnR73pD9Ta5DyJCs-_ykEh9ytKSbR2TFqjQOhzexmFhxzF3NP0386vBvXBc-PXdsdYMGlKjbCEgKUfOzy_V9rAFDA39ahyGV3bMKJelE6OkUzV0L-kqsDQ/s1600/Chief,+LoneStar,+GBG.jpg" height="216" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Just <em>making it</em> to the summit on the heals of <a href="http://mmsautism.org/">yet another protocol</a> I was trying to ease my health issues proved daunting, but I MADE IT!! I was so excited to see some of my much loved/ FB stalked heroes, like <a href="http://kimstagliano.blogspot.com/2014/04/give-autism-chance-summit-austin.html">Kim Stagliano</a>, managing editor of <em><a href="http://www.ageofautism.com/">Age of Autism</a></em>, and Ginger Taylor, co-author of <em><a href="http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1620872129/ref=as_li_qf_sp_asin_il?ie=UTF8&camp=1789&creative=9325&creativeASIN=1620872129&linkCode=as2&tag=adventuresi03-20">Vaccine Epidemic</a></em>. As I anxiously observed from afar, I was soon greeted with warm, energetic hugs from The Rev and Tex, co-authors of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/The-Thinking-Moms-Revolution-Inspiring/dp/1620878844">The Thinking Mom's Revolution: Autism Beyond the Spectrum.</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHq7UtYOikVTGBNwGtQJb4u00Y8GgjfDPDaRFm9wMXmVjE27IbKLfYSkQV5EUvgl7II9dw_fL5C4OuabvEJreC781I3yHLWtj849klmlrYFI87RIfKa9-wxqF4b9qXhgtCP-aw_zQTmaw/s1600/GBG,+LoneStar,+TheRev,+Chief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHq7UtYOikVTGBNwGtQJb4u00Y8GgjfDPDaRFm9wMXmVjE27IbKLfYSkQV5EUvgl7II9dw_fL5C4OuabvEJreC781I3yHLWtj849klmlrYFI87RIfKa9-wxqF4b9qXhgtCP-aw_zQTmaw/s1600/GBG,+LoneStar,+TheRev,+Chief.jpg" height="279" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<em>(for more on why I love these ladies, see the video below)</em></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z4VPeER41dk?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
Then, with the help of my new TMR buds, I was able to get my first picture with a movie star...hmmm do you think I was nervous?<br />
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I had actually focused so much on meeting my autism mom heroes in preparation for this event, I failed to prepare myself to meet celebrities like <a href="http://healthy-family.org/irish-actor-aidan-quinn-connects-mmr-vaccine-with-his-daughters-autism/">Aidan Quinn</a> and <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HVeWejRaFjs">Rob Schneider</a>!<br />
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I also had the privilege of meeting <a href="http://teamtmr.org/ebook/about-us/">Barracuda</a>...my other TMR BFF and her brilliant family, not to mention the sweet walking-miracle, Sophia.<br />
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Around the same time, I started working for a respite care center in a nearby city. I am called in as a "fill-in" on short notice when a staff member is sick or needs a personal day. I work primarily with autistic children and adults. Because of our homeschooling schedule, I am often asked to work the 4-12 shift and some over nights and weekends. This proved difficult, as I also took my son to an early morning scripture study class each day from 6-7 a.m. It immediately became more responsibility and time away from my family than I had anticipated.<br />
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The school year comes to a close at the same time we are promoting the launch of our book, <em><a href="http://teamtmr.org/ebook/">Evolution of a Revolution: From Hope to Healing</a></em>. That's when God thought I needed a bit more love in my life, and left a tiny kitten with it's eyes still shut, outside our neighbor's house. <br />
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<br />
You can imagine we did the only thing possible....bring him inside, keep him warm and dropper feed him formula every two to three hours.<br />
<br />
Wow! It HAS been quite the year! And we are not through! My husband is actually excited to make plans to take the family to the <a href="http://autismeducationsummit.com/">Autism Education Summit</a> in Dallas in October! Bring on the activism!<br />
<br />
As the boys and I danced and sang "School's Out" to celebrate our last day of school (well, one boy danced with me while the other commented on how school wasn't really out forever and other snarky realisms that truly fit this un-official Aspie kid) I couldn't help wonder what in the WORLD would be in store for us in the year to come!<br />
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<3<br />
<br />
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” <br />
― <a href="http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3503.Maya_Angelou">Maya Angelou</a>, <i><a href="http://www.goodreads.com/work/quotes/1413589">I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings</a> </i>Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-55147440827414800602013-11-17T08:10:00.000-06:002013-11-17T08:10:17.542-06:00Am I up for the waiting game?A Sunday morning when I could sleep in, I am wide awake at 7 a.m..... the remnants of the night's dream still fresh in my mind.<br />
<br />
It was an odd dream... most people would brush it off without a second thought.<br />
<br />
I was at a strange funeral for a "grandfather". There were over a hundred people gathered to solemnly pay their respects, but instead, the familiar faces from my past were all preoccupied with a decision I had made, that had nothing to do with the funeral.<br />
<br />
Apparently, soon after moving to this new city, my right hand had been cut off. I decided to reattach it. It was sore, and wasn't working quite right, but I had confidence that given time to heal, my hand would be able to function well enough to write, type, carry things etc....even if it wasn't perfect, the job would get done.<br />
<br />
Conversations continued as I made my way around the crowded funeral. People couldn't believe I had chosen to get my hand re-attached. <br />
<br />
"You should have your stump in a sling and learn to use your left hand to write. People do it all the time."<br />
"Aren't you worried about infection?'<br />
"Your hand will never function like it did before."<br />
And so on.<br />
<br />
Weird, right?<br />
<br />
But as I think about it, this is really a parable for my whole adult life.<br />
I have always been questioned about my choices....that in my mind....seem like a perfectly rational decision.<br />
<br />
I mean, if you could save your hand.....why wouldn't you? Why wouldn't you spend the time, money and effort if it meant you could keep your hand?<br />
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I spent a lot of my life focused on "doing the right thing"....being a "good parent" and a "good person" by societies standards. I always followed the rules....often times not thinking for myself the overall picture. Just going by what I believed would keep myself and my family safe. There was a false sense of security in that kind of thought.<br />
<br />
I started to realize from experiences that when I had questions, they didn't have the answers, so If I wanted answers, I had to start finding them myself. You see...no one else was really looking out for me or my family. It changed my perspective on life.<br />
<br />
I went back to using my gut to guide me in my decisions. I used prayer and guidance from the holy spirit so I could feel confident in my decisions.<br />
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Have I always done the right thing? No. I am definitely not perfect. <br />
<br />
What really shocks me is how many people make judgements on other people's decisions without knowing all the facts. Actually, I'm not shocked people make snap judgements, I guess I'm more shocked at the fact they voice them to the person they are judging and that the judgements don't make any sense.<br />
<br />
I'm the weird one that people don't understand. Most often times, I make a terrible first impression. I am not good socially. I hate small talk. I find it very awkward. Once I get to know someone, I feel comfortable and conversation flows easily. I am honest and loyal. I make decisions that other people don't understand, but the people who know me best...who have heard me explain my thought process....are always supportive.<br />
<br />
Society doesn't think I should have gotten married at 18. They think I should have given my baby up for adoption for a better life. <br />
<br />
Society doesn't understand why I would pay tithes and offerings to my church when the cost of autism is so great.<br />
<br />
Church members can't comprehend why I would home school my children.<br />
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Others see us living on low-income and question the choice I made to be home with my children instead of working full-time.<br />
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And I'm sure if I had biomedical-diet-intervention based friends with children with autism (that weren't on Facebook) they would have opinions too about if I'm doing enough of the right things, too.<br />
I hope not.<br />
<br />
I try to keep myself away from the Facebook world, as I am busy with many responsibilities that should be a priority. It is such a different world from the real one I live in.<br />
<br />
I don't stand on the street everyday with a picket sign warning people of vaccines. Most people I see in my daily life have no idea of my views, which I would think are the most controversial of them all....and yet I get the most opposition from my daily life practices that seem very rational to me.<br />
<br />
On facebook, I post articles I believe to be true, inspirational and life-changing. Many friends and colleagues choose not to see what I post because of it...but at least that is a passive way to disagree. <br />
In my real day to day life in the community, I get lots of loaded questions, confused looks and lack of support.<br />
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Like....Why would you have your hand sewn back on? <br />
<br />
Makes perfect sense to me....but I guess I'm alone in that logic.....just like everything else.<br />
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Diet? How can you deprive your kids of food? How can you afford it? <br />
<br />
Vitamins and Supplements? Those aren't necessary. They are a waste of time and money. If they just ate healthier, you wouldn't need them.<br />
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Biomedical Doctor? Why don't you just get insurance so the doctor is affordable? <br />
<br />
Homeschooling? What about social skills? Don't your kids miss having friends? Aren't they going to college? Doesn't your son need special education services?<br />
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In the end....does any of this change my mind? No. I'm still going to do what I believe is right for my family, no matter who objects. <br />
It just kind of sucks, not to be supported, even in a casual way....by strangers or acquaintances...<br />
Even faking interest and understanding is better than a preconceived notion of the situation.<br />
<br />
It took me at least four years for people to "get me" the last time I moved. Things could be worse here, for sure.....I feel guilty about complaining. <br />
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I have a hard time getting past things that don't make sense. I can't understand people not being supportive of growth and happiness.<br />
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Life is strange. People are strange.<br />
<br />
So for now, I will continue on...each day...without a single face-to-face person that "gets" me. <br />
<br />
I'll give you an update in 2017.<br />
<br />
<br />
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-4956419087146070502013-10-28T14:15:00.002-05:002013-11-15T09:42:45.708-06:00Free Health Care- Part 2When my husband joined the army he was 19 years old. We had a one year old, and it was a good career choice for him. It gave him a way to provide a steady paycheck and health coverage for his family. It was an honorable thing to do, and as I think back, I know we were blessed to have that stability in our lives, when we were a young family starting out.<br />
<br />
When I think about my husband's experience as a disabled veteran using the free health care system the government set up for him and others like him, I always feel a bit torn.<br />
<br />
I don't want to seem ungrateful for the life the Army gave us at such a critical time in our lives. I am not ungrateful for a modest disability pay, or for Josh's free college education. But what good is any of that, if the veteran is hurt or sick and the system that is set up to help him almost kills him?<br />
The world is not black and white....experiences are not only good or bad. The Army gave us our start, but robbed us of our future.<br />
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I don't know that all VA hospitals will fail their veterans in the way they failed my husband. I am just lucky he is alive and well.<br />
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Josh fought with the 3rd ID as an Infantry mechanic in 2003 when the US sent in our troops to over-take the cities and ultimately take control over Baghdad. Josh was 23 years old and often faced hand to hand combat. He later told me he only had one thought in his head...<em>I have to make it home to my family.</em><br />
All of the details aren't important. Suffice it to say that my husband was not a violent man, who loved guns and joined the army to get the chance to kill people. It was to take care of his family, and hopefully have a promising career he could be proud of. He was sweet, sensitive and charming. He did what he had to for his family and for his country.<br />
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Seeing friends die and children used as bombs and shields still haunt him today, as it does thousands of soldiers.<br />
<br />
After they reached Baghdad, he and his unit were cleared to go back to Kuwait. Not long after arriving, his foot was crushed by a two-ton trailer.<br />
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Even after a few surgeries and pins to keep the bones in his toes together, it was the mental scars where the real damage was done.<br />
<br />
We struggled with his patience with the kids, spending sprees, and alcoholism over the years. It seems he was always disconnected and trying to find a new way to cope.<br />
<br />
He finally agreed to go to the VA clinic to be treated in 2007/2008. He even asked me to go with him, and I was happy to take off of work to be there to support him. We spent the day being evaluated at different clinics. We learned occupational therapy techniques to help him. We learned physical therapy techniques to help him. I met with a female case worker who was so kind and supportive and understanding <em>to me</em>, the wife, and shared some of her own experiences. She gave me a card with her personal cell number and told me to call her anytime. I was again, so grateful to have these services available so finally my husband could get the help he needed and our family could heal, grow and move on.<br />
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But that's where the hospitality ended. In the next visit my husband made by himself, he was prescribed a half a dozen prescriptions. It was a whirlwind of a nightmare over the next few years.<br />
<br />
The pain and anguish we the family endured over endless side-effects from the medication paled in comparison to the shock and disbelief of the lack of help, support and care for us during this pain-staking time. <br />
<br />
Trembling and shaking and at my wit's end, the first call I made to the case manager who had given me her card, she listened and only instructed me, that if I ever felt my life was in danger I should call the police. She said I shouldn't be afraid to leave him. I told her of all the tics and convulsions he would have in his sleep and how they terrified me. She said she would give the message to the nurse. <br />
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They took him off the Tramadol and put him on Oxycodone at his next visit. I couldn't believe it. And they added more meds.<br />
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Everyone knows how addictive oxy can be. <br />
He worked his way up to taking the whole month's supply in the first week of it arriving. The next week would be a come-down that was horrible. The third week, he was starting to be more coherent and I could try to talk to him about how he was acting and what the drugs were doing to him. He was unable to urinate, sleep or even speak coherently. He was wasting away...his skin was blueish and hung off his bones. His eyes were sunken into deep black pits.<br />
He would not listen to me. He dismissed everything I said...even the videos I took of his convulsions, and the pictures of him falling asleep while opening Christmas presents.<br />
<br />
I tried calling the number I had before. No answer. I left messages that were never returned. I called the clinic and left messages. I was finally told I was no longer allowed to participate in his medical treatment.<br />
<br />
I called family members out of desperation. Surely, he would listen to them! They gave me numbers to drug abuse hot lines. They all told me the same thing....take my kids and leave.<br />
<br />
But, this wasn't Josh! He was being enabled to live this way by being sent over a half a dozen drugs each month without ever being seen by a doctor....only once a year. I think he may have talked on the phone to a few here and there, but there was no scheduled therapy...that he attended anyway.<br />
<br />
So, maybe those reading this would say, this is not the VA's fault, it was Josh's. He chose to take more meds than he should have and missed appointments.<br />
<br />
I disagree. I think the VA clinic should know enough about the medication they so freely prescribe, to know what it does to an individuals state of mind. They should know they have deep rooted issues that need to be talked about in a therapy session rather than drowned with drugs. They should have a responsibility to their patients to take the best care of them, and to have a caregiver they can talk to so they can have a real idea of the situation. People on drugs do not realize reality! He couldn't tell if he was good or not!<br />
<br />
To this day, he swears he did not take me off the list as people who could discuss his health care. He might have an doesn't remember. There needs to be a better system in place so this doesn't happen.<br />
<br />
I remember being so scared everyday, when I came home from work, I would rush to the basement to see if he had over dosed. I tried to take his medicine and hide it and he threatened to call the police on me. I gave him the prescribed amount for a while, each morning before I left for work, and he was horribly mean about it. The next monthly supply came and he hid it from me. I searched the house, vehicles and garage for it, but could not find it.<br />
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I was so exhausted from the daily fear of what he was going to do or how he would treat the children, I secretly started to wish he would overdose, so I wouldn't have to be scared anymore.<br />
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It was a nightmare of a life, and I choose not to go into anymore detail, as I have put that chapter of my life away.<br />
<br />
My point in sharing this story is that, just because it's FREE doesn't mean it's GOOD. <br />
Do you think if we had to pay for the meds, Josh would have been so quick to try them all?? No. We would have done research together and talked about what was most important and least risky. But for free, heck, why not?<br />
<br />
What a huge let down by our government...who promised to take care of my husband in case of being injured fighting for our country. He was abandoned in his time of greatest need. I felt very alone and betrayed.<br />
<br />
Our story has a happy ending. During a brief time of clarity, Josh agreed to go to the chiropractor with us. We just started chiropractic care for my son in the Autism Whisperers program at our local Maximized Living clinic. The doctor offered my husband a free year of chiropractic care in their Veteran's program. <br />
<br />
Within two weeks, Josh was feeling so much better. He started listening to me about the side effects of his medication and decided to stop taking them..<br />
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It was a day that God poured out his blessings on our family....one I will never forget.<br />
<br />
I often wonder if it hadn't been "free" if he would have ever tried it. I know the doctor who offered it to him was inspired to do so. He didn't have to.<br />
<br />
Josh still has the American mindset when it comes to "free". If it's free, "why not?". Thankfully, we used that mentality to our advantage to get him chiropractic adjustments....not everyone is that lucky.<br />
<br />
I hope and pray that American can wake up from the "free" mentality and see just what mainstream medicine can do to a person. It's not a joke....this is your life, and the life of your loved ones. Be smart. Do your own research. Think for yourself. Give yourself the credit the doctors want to take away from you. <br />
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<br />Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-23871669865368654722013-10-27T19:13:00.000-05:002013-10-27T19:13:07.887-05:00 Free Health Care- Part 1Our experience using the hospital and clinic on an army base is not unique. Most will tell tales of half-days spent in the emergency room, scheduling appointments months in advance only to get a doctor who never once looks you in the eye, and an endless supply of the cure-all wonder drug Motrin. But it was free......so it was hard to complain about the lack of worth-while care we received. We were just lucky to have any care at all, right?<br />
<br />
I think back at that mentality and I despise it. I mean, really? We have to take the crappy because better care would cost more? Does it really cost more in the end? Free doctor visits could cost you your life when over worked doctors having large patient loads cease to care and see you as just another pile of paperwork.<br />
<br />
When we first moved to Ft.Benning, fresh with a new autism diagnosis, Tristen was three and Tanner was one. The perfect age to be pumped full of vaccines at "well-visits".<br />
I was determined to be a "good mom". No one was going to accuse me of not keeping my kids' doctor appointments! I had their complete shot records with me in my purse that I had religiously filled out at each visit. <br />
<br />
Plus, my oldest child remained sick with frequent ear infections, fevers and rashes, so I needed to take advantage of our new health system. I couldn't get him better if I slacked on my check-ups!<br />
<br />
I rarely ever saw our primary care physician. It seems she was always busy...I can only think of three times we saw her in the almost five years we lived there. <br />
One time in particular, I was fed up with not getting any answers about the boy's unexplained skin rashes. I had tried everything I could think of at the time....changing soaps, detergents...looking for outside reactions or bug bites. I was at a loss and wanted some answers.<br />
<br />
Our PCM barely looked up from her desk. If they have rashes, we will prescribe Zyrtec. They can take it every day and it will get rid the rashes.<br />
I didn't understand. I wanted to know what was <em>causing</em> the rashes.<br />
"We don't need to know what is causing it. Zyrtec will clear up the symptoms."<br />
<br />
When Tanner was just a toddler, he fell on the corner of an end table and had quite a gash in his cheek. The skin sagged at the site, and although I was certain it would need at least one suture, I dreaded the thought of heading to the ER. It was evening and I knew I was in for a wait of around 6 hours for something non-life threatening. I packed up my boy with toys and snacks and headed for what was sure to be a long night. <br />
I don't remember at what hour I lost my patience, but it was the wee hours of the morning. I was tired. Tanner was tired and his wound had stopped bleeding. We decided to go home. About a half hour later, we received a call from the ER doc asking us to come back in. He apologized for not getting to us sooner. Because of his persistence and sincerity, I agreed to bring Tanner back in. The Doc met us out in the parking lot....where he saw his face had healed. He apologized again and gave me a few instructions and I bundled my little sleeping boy back up to head back home.<br />
<br />
The most confusing experience I had at the military clinic was when I had Tanner in for one of his "well-visits". He had his vaccinations, one shot in one leg and two in the other. I had not met the doctor or nurses before, but I was used to that. We were instructed to wait in the waiting room for about twenty minutes to be sure he did not have any reactions to the shot....if he started to have a rash, swelling, trouble breathing or anything, I was to alert the nurse immediately.<br />
I have to admit I wasn't worried. I did this many times before with him and with Tristen. <br />
<br />
I can't remember if it was the swelling, or red streaks or what.....the deepest part of my soul began to panic and fear the worse...I just remember something was seriously wrong. In slow motion, I got up from my chair and left my autistic son unattended to get the nurse and they swooped him out of my arms. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than when your sick child is taken from you and a flood of doctors and nurses are surrounding your child and all you can do is stand there in shock. I don't remember who was watching Tristen...maybe he followed me into the exam room. I remember when the tension in the room became calmer and the doctor's face looking relieved. <br />
She told me, "He should not have the DTaP again. We can't be sure what it was that caused the reaction, but he should not have that shot again."<br />
I was so grateful he was alive and well....having no idea of the damage that was done deep inside.<br />
A few months later, we are back at our "well-check" with a stranger. He tells us Tanner needs a booster for the DTaP. <br />
"But I thought he couldn't have that? He had the reaction last time?"<br />
"What?" He gasped as if I had said the most absurd thing he had ever heard. "Who told you that?"<br />
I explained.<br />
"Well, we dont' know if it was the diphtheria, pertussis or tetanus that caused it. We can give him single doses."<br />
This didn't make any sense to me, but the doctor treated me like I was such a moron, I was afraid to stand up for myself. He already thinks I'm a bad mother for suggesting it, I thought.<br />
We left with not DTaP that time, but at our next visit, I was questioned about why he had not received the shot. I explained what the last doctor had told me, again to another doctor I had never met.<br />
"We can't do that. There are no single shots. He should be fine."<br />
My head was spinning and before I could think straight they had injected him with the same poison that caused so much trouble before. <br />
He had redness and swelling in the injection site and a fever. All which they said was normal, and they sent us home.<br />
<br />
I think back at how naive I was and I am just sick. Why was I so desperate to do "the right thing"...which was only what society was telling me was right, not what made sense or what felt right as a devoted mother.<br />
<br />
If our new health care system ends up anything like the base medical institutions or the VA hospitals/clinics, we are in a world of trouble. For someone who wants run of the mill, standard, impersonal care, maybe it would be fine for them. If you are poor enough to have no choice but to wait hours for so-so advice and lots of free medication, it may be enough for you. <br />
It was not enough for me. I wanted someone who listened to what I said and actually wanted to help my child. I needed a doctor who took my concerns and looked for answers. So, I started to pay for that kind of doctor out of pocket. No insurance. Because GOOD health care, is better than FREE health care.<br />
Free health care never looked into my son's illnesses. Insured health care never looked beyond the end of their nose to help me or my children's illnesses. <br />
<br />
THE ONLY TIME I WAS HELPED BY A DOCTOR IN MY LIFE ABOUT SOMETHING THAT DID NOT PRESENT AS IMMEDIATELY LIFE THREATENING, WAS WHEN I PAID FOR THE CARE WITH MY OWN MONEY AT THE TIME OF THE VISIT.<br />
<br />
Why would I ever waste my time, ignore my gut, and put my family in jeopardy again...because I'm poor and it's free? Because now I will be fined?<br />
<br />
Not gonna happen.Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-1199038313903716472013-10-22T13:41:00.002-05:002013-10-22T17:01:44.248-05:00"The Green Bean Girl"It's simple.<br />
That's what I eat.<br />
I don't want to be misleading....I eat over-cooked green beans with coconut oil and sea salt. At least four times a day.<br />
Once in a while, I will have some meat for dinner...a small portion. <br />
My health has depleted in an alarming rate and this is all I can tolerate.<br />
"Why? What actually happens to you?" I can hear the accusatory tone.<br />
It is difficult to put into words the reaction one can have to food, when it isn't an obvious reaction. If you need to carry an EpiPen, you're good to go in the eyes of the world. If you need a benadryl, they may even offer one to you. But when you start to talk about food affecting how you "feel" on the "inside"....other than a feeling of full....people look at you like you are crazy and easily brush you off as another "nut-job". <br />
I can't be too critical...I was the same way.<br />
I won't bore you with a complete history of all the lazy people I've known in my life. Suffice it to say, there have been A LOT! <br />
I never understood someone not doing their job, or something that really mattered, because they "didn't feel good". Seemed to me like an easy way to get out of stuff, and I was determined that was never going to be me.<br />
<br />
For me, the worst part of a food reaction, is not being able to think. I am in a fog where the outside world seems to be crushing me. I want to be left alone. I get irritated very easily. My body becomes inflamed, my joints swell and my insides feel like my organs are in a knot. My vision is blurry and I struggle with reading. I have mood swings and do not feel like myself.<br />
<br />
I will continue to add some history as to how I got here in the essays to come.<br />
<br />
Today, I want to close with this thought:<br />
<br />
Not eating certain food is hard. Only eating one food makes me feel selfish and guilty because of my disdain. How many children in the world would feel happy to just have something to eat everyday? ANYthing to eat is better than NOthing. So I have to step back from my pity-party, because in truth, life could be much much worse.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-26230748708063166652013-10-17T09:21:00.002-05:002013-10-17T09:21:58.021-05:00What is the right answer?I don't know why it irritates me so much when people question Tristen's autism.<br />
I should be happy.... a lot of parents out there would love it, I'm sure, if their child's disabilities were brought into question, because that would mean progress.<br />
I get that.<br />
I know I shouldn't complain.<br />
I just can't shake this feeling. I get so wrapped up in it....which is why I blog.....mostly just for myself....to get these thoughts and feelings "out there" and then I can move on.<br />
Why would someone question Tristen's disability?<br />
Do people think I am dishonest? Would I lie about something as serious as Autism? Would I wish for any child to have it? Would I tell people my children had any disorder that I really did not truly believe they had?<br />
No.<br />
<br />
Do they think they know more about Autism than I do? I'm not saying I'm an expert, but I have dedicated my life to this cause...not only for my child, but others in every community where I have lived...so, I would find it poor logic to conclude the average person has more autism experience and knowledge.<br />
<br />
When confronted like this, I feel I need to explain...and when I'm met with speculation, then, I worry I sound guilty, like I'm making excuses.<br />
<br />
I've written about how kids on the spectrum are individuals, and do not always fit into cookie-cutter categories: <a href="http://autismhealth.blogspot.com/2013/09/if-youve-met-one-person-hit-by-bus.html">http://autismhealth.blogspot.com/2013/09/if-youve-met-one-person-hit-by-bus.html</a> <br />
<br />
This doesn't help, however, in a social situation outside of the internet.<br />
<br />
How do I tactfully sum up a response? How do I sum up 15 years of consistent hard work and dedication, doctors visits, diet, allergy treatments, HBOT, chiropractic care, chelation, vitamins and supplements.....there is no one key answer to how/why he is doing so well!<br />
<br />
"I guess I'm just one of the lucky ones!" Fail...yuck...sounds so disprespectful of those whose journey is more demanding.<br />
<br />
"You should have seen him before!" Fail....sounds like a put-down to Tristen, and in actuality, an exaggeration by omission.<br />
<br />
"He is vaccine damaged, which is often misdiagnosed as autism." Ooooh, now that would really get them thinking....AND probably avoiding me from that point on at all costs. Especially the young mothers with lots of little kids and those working in the medical field. If I could just avoid people that don't agree with my views, it would be easy...but often times I have to edit myself so I can work amicably with people at church.<br />
<br />
"He is recovering from autism, due to diet, supplements and detox." Fail. I'm assuming they will stop listening at "recovering". Then, you are just the crazy nut-job who thinks their child can get better. I probably believe in aliens, conspiracy theories, and santa claus as well.<br />
<br />
I don't know the correct response. It's hard to know how a person you have met recently is going to react to your comments, which is how I have learned to tailor my conversations over the years.<br />
I have many Facebook friends who get tired of my posts about vaccine injury, diet and toxins and simply block my posts, which is better than an arguement. (When they have an affected loved one, they will know where to find me.)<br />
<br />
What most people don't know, is this was never about "curing autism". I never set out to do that...even after hearing stories of recovered children. This was about making a sick boy well. That's it. <br />
<br />
I wasn't afraid he might have to live at home with his family way into adulthood. I was worried he wouldn't make it to adulthood.<br />
<br />
Fever after 7-day-long fever......daily vomiting, unexplained rashes...ear infections and illnesses were a constant in our house. As much as I hate asking for help.... I did what I had been taught was the right thing to do; I turned to doctors and nurses to help me help my son.<br />
<br />
They told me I was over protective. They told me to stop calling unless the fever was over 104 and lasted more than 7 days. When I called then, they told me to alternate Tylenol and Motrin every four hours. I cried out for help from dozens of different doctors in three different states and no one had any answers....and crushingly, no one really cared.<br />
<br />
My first internet research was not about autism. Autism I could handle....I had figured that part out. It was this constant sickness keeping him from school and being a happy little boy. I watched helplessly while he layed on the floor lathargic for yet again another episode. I really really needed answers.<br />
<br />
I read about childhood illnesses. I tried to find something that fit. I knew there was something everyone was missing.<br />
<br />
My mother-in-law bought me the book, "Changing the Course of Autism" by Bryan Jepson. I hadn't read any autism books up to that point, even though Tristen was 9. I was focusing on illness, remember? I could handle the rest. I just couldn't watch him wither away in front of my eyes. <br />
<br />
When I started reading this book, and learned there were other children out there like my son....children who were autistic, but more impressivley, they were sick...my mind was opened up to a whole world I never knew existed....a world where doctors acknowledged what a mother said and did crazy things like TESTS!<br />
<br />
That was all I needed to know and I was on board. I set out to find a doctor who would treat my son.<br />
<br />
The rest is great history....and I guess, I sometimes forget where we started, as we sometimes do as parents focused on progress. We have no defined "goal"...as long as progress is being made, we are happy. We have been so very blessed from the Lord above with miracles touching our small, insignificant family. None of this would be possible without Him.<br />
<br />
We're all on a journey....whether autism is a pit-stop or along for the entire ride.....we can never really know what it is like walk in someone else's shoes. We must be empathetic and non-judgemental.<br />
<br />
It's so interesting to me how things have changed....in 2000 when we got the diagnosis, we had to explain autism because only a few people had even seen RainMan. Now, I am argueing with other's perception of what autism is and am grilled about my practices and treatments.<br />
<br />
I guess I'm still not sure about what the right response is. The first step, I guess, is not being so shocked by it, so I sound befuddled in my explanation. And, not worrying so much about what other's perception of me is, and simply stating the truth, would help as well.<br />
<br />
It's so much easier talking to those who I don't feel I'm trying to convince. I just tell it like I see it. You don't have to agree, you just have to respect my journey.<br />
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-74176635281413854732013-10-16T20:53:00.001-05:002013-10-16T20:53:54.072-05:00If You Never Had It....you don't know what your missing<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Having a sick child with Autism<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>drove me <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>toward a better understanding of the human body and what it needs to heal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I read dozens of books with information about creating an optimal environment<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>for learning and growth to give my son the best chance at reaching his full potential. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Because of the suggested dietary changes I made that amazingly lessened the severity of his autism, I noticed that food was causing <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>some of my own recent health issues as well as other problems that had plagued me my whole life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The chronic itching and hair loss I experienced after a medication reaction was only present soon after eating wheat or gluten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I found that consuming dairy <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>caused the embarrassing thick, dark, dry, patches on my elbows and knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I eliminated these foods, my vivid nightmares disappeared as well. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My brain fog and inability to wake up in the morning vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>These small changes in my daily life made a huge difference on the <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>QUALITY of my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did my best to stay focused on keeping my family healthy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>Due to increased stress at home and at work, I began to be dependent on late-night rewards.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To have<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>candy and a Coke after the kids were in bed and the house was quiet, was my way of relieving stress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>I started to have shooting pains from my hands and fingers down my forearms.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It became <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>more intense and then it started to happen in my feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went to two or three doctors who were each equally sure I had tendonitis. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Do you work at a computer all day?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Do you do repetitive movements in a factory?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“No.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Then they would do the test where they bend your arms and wrists <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>this way and that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I went home with no answer and nowhere to turn.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Finally, when the pain was so intense at work<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could no longer hide it, I went back to yet another doctor and said, <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">“Look.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I do not want pain meds.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don’t want antidepressants.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just want to know WHY this is happening!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">He did blood work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He did x-rays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was later sent to a rheumatologist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had electric currents sent through my nerves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had an MRI.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I researched to find out I was experiencing peripheral neuropathy and found many diseases that could cause this symptom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>was diabetes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Soon after testing, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I began to break out in a rash all over my face, neck and arms every morning when I arrived at work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doctors thought it was stress related, but I wasn’t entirely convinced.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I tried<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>to find a food link, but nothing seemed to fit.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Out of frustration, I went to have my allergies tested.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There must be something I missed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The testing showed I was not only allergic to wheat and dairy, but also Candida, a yeast/fungus that had over grown in my gut.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It survives on sugar.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Everything started to fall into place. My rashes went away and so did my hand and foot pain. I started realizing<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just how much sugar I was eating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a gluten/casein free diet, you tend to over indulge in sugar and starches without realizing it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lots of fruit, potatoes, chips, soda and rice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sugar and yeast are hidden in many products as well, like sauces and soups.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After eliminating sugar and starches, I lost forty pounds in a few short weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">With all the improvements in my health, I still did not feel better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something was missing, I just couldn’t put my finger on it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was eating fresh organic fruits and vegetables and lean organic meats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was exercising.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why was I still finding it so hard to manage through a day?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">When I decided to try chiropractic care, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>it was a huge turning point in my life. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to try one more thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I knew chiropractics had helped my husband and my children, but I had a hard time justifying spending the money on myself.<br /><br />And then, the thought entered my head.....<em><span style="font-family: "Georgia","serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">who is going to care for your family if you are not around?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></em>I knew I had to find a way to make it work. I needed to listen to my gut and have faith <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>because I couldn't continue feeling this way.<br /><br />I went to my first adjustment, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just hoping to sleep better at night and have more energy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I hoped this would give me a more positive attitude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What I didn’t expect was the change in the way I would literally see the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">It was my birthday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had a terrible time seeing through the rain and the fog from the time I left home at 5:45 am until my appointment that afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was so frustrated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cursed my stupid eye-sight that always seemed to hinder me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had to be extra careful while driving, because I was prone to hitting deer and knocking off my side mirrors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was something I had learned to live with:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Severe near-sightedness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Astigmatism.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was odd how new glasses never seemed to help me see well for too long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Forever straining to see was my life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I supposed that was <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just my luck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I parked the car, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>just glad I made it in one piece, and headed inside to try to re-adjust my contact lenses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They shouldn’t be this bad today, I thought…I just put in a fresh pair a few days ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I turned them, I ran them under water….I was irritated at the thought of having to go in already to buy new glasses and contacts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I waited in the waiting room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I thought about how difficult it was for me to see the instructor at my class that day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I worried about how I did on the exam, because all the notes were on the wall, which I couldn’t see. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">Then, it was my turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333; font-family: "Georgia","serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; line-height: 115%;">I was in shock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After having my neck adjusted, and I could finally see.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could see outside in the rain and fog…and I was not enjoying life like I once had through my windshield .<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could ACTUALLLY<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>SEE details in buildings, rocks and pavement.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I could read even the smallest print on signs, and people's faces and eyes were so clear….and in 3D! I felt such joy tears began streaming down my face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>gave me hope. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br /><br />Dr. Chad at Maximized Living said if I hadn't already been following the healthy lifestyle protocol they encourage for their patients, I might not have seen such a dramatic change. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am so grateful for the doctors who have cared enough to give us <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the knowledge needed to live the healthiest lives possible....as it has helped my family to heal.....and now I can be a part of that as well!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-84949088707296954022013-10-16T20:51:00.001-05:002013-10-16T20:51:57.975-05:00My American Dream: Stop Blaming the UninsuredI am frequently bombarded by political agendas...most of which I agree with and
a few I don't. I don't "rock the boat".... I feel like everyone is entitled to
his or her opinion. We don't always know another's personal journey that is
swaying their perspecitve.<br />I keep hearing the argument for ObamaCare (which
I have been against for personal reasons since I first heard of it and thought
it to be unconstitutional) that it's what needs to be done to keep taxpayers
from having to pick up the slack and pay for those without insurance.
<br />I feel this "how DARE you" kind of accusation is a generalization. Not
everyone who is uninsured doesn't pay their medical bills.<br />I pay my medical
bills. I have had insurance and still paid medical bills. I have paid OFF
countless medical bills from numerous medical facilities all of my adult
life.<br />Will someone please explain to me how people are getting away with not
paying their medical bills when they do not have insurance? Are these the few
that just simply don't pay? How do they get away from the phone calls and
collection agencies? The threatening notices in the mail? They simply ignore
it with no consequences? If that's so, it isn't right, and they should be held
accountable to pay for what services they received.<br />Our family has tried
multiple kinds of insurance over the years. For my family, it was not worth it
to pay for premiums, then deductibles....never ever seeing any real payoff or
savings...for doctors who never helped us in the first place! <br />The doctors
we wanted to go to when the "approved" doctors failed us, were usually not
covered by ANY insurance plans. After years of playing this game so as to be on
the side of the "good guys", we concluded we were wasting thousands of dollars
for no answers. Run of the mill tests that never led them in a direction to
actually help the problems we were having, ending with a shrug of the shoulders
and a shove out the door.<br />When we started choosing alternative treatments, we
were happy to pay out of pocket! These doctors listened to us and treated us
like human beings with real value. They prescribed things like diet and
supplements that actually worked! We learned about therapies we had never heard
of before that dramatically improved our quality of life. It was worth more to
us to drop our useless insurance and use the money to pay for answers....and the
bedside manor was an added bonus!<br /><br />What about Well Checks?<br />Don't
believe in them. They check if you are well, so they can make you sick. Just a
front to push vaccinations, that I DON'T WANT.<br /><br />What if we need to go to
the Emergency Room?<br />We have. We did. And we pay monthly on the bill.<br />It
is still more affordable, because if we had insurance, we would be paying a
premium each month, AND would still have had to pay for the ER visit because the
deductible, being so high, would not have been met.<br /><br />What if someone gets
cancer?<br />If someone gets cancer, I want to be as far away from the pharma
shrills as possible!<br />.<br />What if I get pregnant?<br />Well, this baby factory
is closed....but if it weren't, I still wouldn't want conventional medicine
anywhere near my baby.<br />Complications? Bleeding? Unresponsiveness?<br />You got
me. I would ask for help. And I would be happy to pay for it.<br /><br />Yes, if we
are in a car accident or severely burned, broken or bleeding...stopped breathing
or had a heart attack....then, yes, I would have to resort to those
professionals, and I would be grateful.<br /><br />But that's MY choice, isn't it?
Isn't it MY choice as an American to be able to decide to whom I do business
with and when? <br /><br />Shouldn't I be able to decide where to buy my
groceries? No? The government knows the best place for me to buy groceries?
What if I like rhubarb and they don't sell it? What if I want organic produce?
Oh...you mean the government knows better, and they say that organic food is
crap, so I have to go and shop where they say I can? And if I don't I get a
huge fine? And maybe my kids are taken away? All because I disagree on with
the Federal Government on where to make a purchase?<br /><br />I do not have
insurance.....not because I couldn't afford it or wasn't offered it, but because
it didn't make any sense for me to pay outrageous premiums and deductibles for
something I would hopefully hardly ever use. <br /><br />If a tragedy did occur, I
would be of course more than willing to pay on it monthly, and use my tax
returns to pay off the debt. Everyone has debt! College students! Should they
not get an education if it means going $20,000 or more into debt? What about
vehicles? An SUV will cost you more than that! People buy boats, or
motorcycles...add a deck on the house....get a pool....<br />I won't have the
luxuries of many Americans, and that is fine by me. My family's health is way
more important than material things. <br />Because MY American dream is the
freedom to think for myself, to choose how my money is spent, and to have a say
in my children's medical care.<br />What is yours? Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-60490207756750566962013-10-16T20:50:00.001-05:002013-10-16T20:50:30.147-05:00By DefinitionI was participating in a church youth activity yesterday, when the teacher asked if everyone would just tell a little bit about themselves. <br />
<br />
Kids usually say the easy stuff...what they like to do in their free time...or talents like playing an instrument. Easy.<br />
<br />
One girl started with the statement that her parents were divorced. It was easy to gather this girl was intelligent, and had a fun out-going personality. She was creative and inventive. Yet, she chose to define herself...in her opening statement....that her parents were divorced.<br />
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I identified with this young lady, as I thought about how my parents divorce seemed to define me for so many years. It is easy to assume this is because of how devastating it can be for all when a family unit is broken. It is always a tender wound in our hearts hidden in the back of our minds.<br />
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I always hated being asked to tell about myself as a teenager and I imagine I started off many of my introductions the same way.<br />
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Moving to a new area where people don't know you, really makes you think about introductions, because you will be doing a lot of them. At random moments at the grocery store, or every Sunday at church when you meet someone for the first time, there is an introduction.<br />
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I have a feeling that people want to know about you in a nutshell. They want to know one piece of interesting information so that they can remember you, or sometimes, as I find more common in the south, they are just making conversation to pass the time. They hope for something interesting to come out of meeting someone new.<br />
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Meeting people is tough for me. I don't know what they expect from me. Making eye contact is difficult, and I tend to obsess the whole time if I am looking to long at their eyes....have they blinked, have I blinked....did I look away too often? What are their intentions on speaking to me? Do they want something from me? What are their perceptions of me? Do they like me? Do they think I am poor, uneducated, strange...? My mind is running a mile a minute and it may take quite some time before I replay the encounter in my head and realize exactly what the conversation was about.<br />
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I'm odd...I know...check out the previous post ;)<br />
<br />
So, when I think about all the introductions I have to do, I become even more anxious and overwhelmed. What is the key point I want to convey to someone about myself?<br />
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What would be most comfortable for me is to start at birth...give a life story....of every experience I had in my life I considered significant and life-changing...and an explanation of why I am the way I am and why my life is the way it is. I somehow feel that if everyone knew my story, they would not be so quick to judge.<br />
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Giving each person you meet a transcript of your life is not an option, and if you tried to express this in casual conversation, not only do you seem strange, but completely self involved.<br />
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I think back to when I was a teenager, and the fact that my parents were divorced defined me.<br />
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After I got married, I covered up the fact I was married, had a baby and graduated High School all in the same year, by talking about my husband's job in the Army.<br />
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Being a military wife defined me, and suited me well. People believed I was strong, smart and independent. It also masked the fact I was the parent of a child with Autism. At that time, no one really knew what to say to that....except maybe "sorry"....which I didn't want to hear anyway.<br />
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When Josh was medically discharged from the Army, I felt lost again. I moved again to a new place with a sea of introduction possibilities awaiting me. I was no longer an Army Wife and that pride was no longer mine.<br />
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So, I was the mom with an autistic child, and still nobody had a clue what that meant. So, I became an expert on explaining it.<br />
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The years went by, and I defined myself by my charity service at church. That felt good. It felt normal. It didn't need a long explanation followed by blank stares and glances towards the exit.<br />
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When I started doing substitute work for the school district with autistic students, it became apparent that this was where I belonged. I didn't care how strange, odd or peculiar I seemed with my interactions with the children. I sure didn't stop talking about autism or the interventions I used to help relieve some of my son's symptoms . <br />
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To my surprise, I started being defined by my co-workers and community. I was asked to stay on as a long-term substitute, for a year and a half until they had the position they wanted for me available. When seniority would have cut me from the building where they sent all the autistic children K-3, they kept me anyway, causing much animosity. When it was time for a challenging child to move to a new school, they went against protocol and sent me with him. Parents requested me at IEP meetings. Parents went to the school board to have me with their child until graduation.<br />
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I know the gifts I have to help autistic children come from God. I know I would never have known this path in life had he not had a plan for me to have an autistic child. I do not brag in my abilities to care for them....there is a point to why I bring this up.<br />
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I think making introductions are difficult for me again, as I start out in a new community, because I finally had a definition that didn't need explaining. It took the pressure off. That is who I was, and I was proud to be able to help so many children and grateful for the opportunity to do so.<br />
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Moving here and choosing to home school meant giving up that definition. The "occupation" blanks on forms seem to haunt me....who am I?<br />
<br />
Who am I then, if not a military wife? If I'm not a paraprofessional?<br />
<br />
My new introductions have been, "Hi, I'm Meadow and we home school." Mostly because when my son is around...and he usually is....I don't like to have autism be HIS definition, so I don't talk about it in front of him.<br />
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Why am I not satisfied with this explanation of who I am? Is it not an honorable thing to do with my time? <br />
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The anxiety has fought it's way back into the forefront of my mind...what do they think about that? Do they think I'm a bad mother? Do they wonder if I"m smart enough? Do they think I'm lazy? Are they afraid my kid's aren't going to learn or have social skills?<br />
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What I want to say is, "Hi....I'm Meadow. I'm a Mother Warrior. I gave up my career....something I was really really good at.....because I needed to focus on the health and well-being of myself and my children first. I know that seems selfish....especially to those I left behind....but my job first and foremost in this life is to be the absolute best mother I can possibly be. My children need the tools to be successful in life and I am the best person to teach them to them. For this choice, I will not apologize to anyone. Right now....at this moment....it is what I believe is best."<br />
<br />
<br />
Will I have the guts to say this? I'm pretty sure they are still going to think I'm nuts. <br />
<br />
So....until that day....I'm looking for a hobby. Preferably one I can fake, because I will really be spending my time on immunology and interventions......one that will sound interesting and impressive after my name. Any ideas??<br />
<br />
("Hi, I'm Meadow....I enjoy spelunking." Did I even spell that right??)Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-67438601416237980042013-10-16T20:48:00.001-05:002013-10-16T20:48:43.887-05:00Legal Addiction: Where do you turn?<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">When you make the commitment to share a lifetime with another person, you expect to see them change; to age. You are there for the first gray hairs, the laugh lines, the aching joints and back pain, the loss of vision, and painful arthritis. It happens so slowly throughout a marriage that one may barely notice these changes until years and years have gone by. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Can you imagine watching your loved one deteriorate before your eyes? Individuals with cancer or other severe illness have to witness the depletion of a living, breathing body while grieving as they try to figure out how to deal with the loss of life even before the life is lost. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Imagine that person was not one who would be classified as physically ill, yet with each passing day they withered before your eyes. Their gray skin droops off of their body, while their once rapid movements are now slow and crippled as they hunch over and limp along. They lose 50 lbs. or more in a few short weeks and their bones feel light, weak and fragile.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their memory and comprehension are now failing. The mind wonders, “What if these effects on the body were the result of the medication that was prescribed to an individual in their twenties, who beforehand was considered to be in good physical standings?” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">At the age of 27, this disabled veteran was prescribed a laundry list of medication that came with a stack of scary side effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The side effects were much more severe than the actual symptoms he was supposed to be taking them for. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The above mentioned side effects were from a seizure medication given for chronic headaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Although I tried to explain to him and show him the risk associated with these drugs, my pleas fell on deaf ears. The medication led him to believe that I was trying to hinder his happiness, though I was in fact trying to do the exact opposite. More than anything I wanted to see the once happy individual living life to the fullest. Sadly, there was no reasoning with a person who takes these kinds of medications. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The first medication prescribed to him resulted in the most trouble and caused him to have terrible tremors. I took a video of him sleeping and caught the convulsions on film. He was not concerned after viewing this. He was constantly exhausted because his body never got the opportunity to really become rested. He trembled like a person with Parkinson’s disease. I was in constant fear every time he got behind the wheel, because his driving ability and comprehension of reality was affected. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Out of love and concern, I reported the incidents to his nurse, and they changed his pain medication. However, that is the last time they would be in contact with me, as he took me off the list of approved consults for medical intervention/care.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Just when I thought that I finally had a break from the constant worrying that consumed my every waking moment, his doctors decided it would be a good decision to add Lithium to the mix. From the very first dosage, I knew something was seriously wrong. It was like I was watching a train wreck as I watched him fall and scramble to make it up the stairs. Concerned for his safety, I followed him into the kitchen. With a plate in his outstretched hand, he began spinning in circles. My concerns he later relayed to his doctors were dismissed with a simple statement of “that’s how we know the medication is working”. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">The new pain medication caused excessive itching that would keep him awake endless nights. I knew when he consumed this medication because he would go through “stages” He would start the first stage very calm, relaxed, mellow and compliant. The next stage was the constant deep raking of his skin with his nails and sometimes objects from head to toe. Then, there was the non-stop talking and repetitive language that would continue until his voice would go hoarse. The last phase consisted of a burst of energy. During this phase, he would decide to make up food concoctions in the middle of the night. There were times in which he would break plates, leave the stove on, or worse leave the food cooking on the stove after he fell asleep. Once during a drug-induced daze, he took a hot glass pot lid and ran it under cold water, causing it to explode into thousands of pieces. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">This pain medication that was determined to be extremely addictive and sold as a street drug was prescribed for him to be taking up to four pills a day. I become increasingly worried after barely seeing my husband for a week at a time as he began to seclude himself in the basement. I would catch him asleep while using the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His digestive system had stopped working.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He would fall asleep with his plate of food during mid-bite. His head hung limp as he passed out while our family opened Christmas presents. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I decided to count his monthly supply of pills and on average; he was consuming 29 pills per day! Every day, I come home from work worried that I would find him dead. I called family, hot-lines, and the VA. No one was able to provide me with help. After months of this vicious cycle, I started to wish that maybe he would simply not be there when I got home. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Even more frightening were the days he was coming down from the pills.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since he was taking his month’s supply in 7-10 days, he would go through a dark period of withdraw.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Evil angry glares would be shot my way like daggers and I became fearful for my own life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This passed after a few days to himself, where he usually became ill with respiratory and stomach problems.<a href="http://www.blogger.com/null" name="_GoBack"></a><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Having suffered from post-traumatic stress disorder, a mood disorder, a traumatic brain injury, and a right-foot crush injury, he would appear on paper as an individual who should be heavily medicated. It might surprise you to know that he was not on any medication and was able to function quite normally from 2003-2007.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was until he made the decision to be seen by the VA hospital. He sees one doctor there once a year. There is no therapy. He makes a phone call and all of the medication comes each month religiously. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">Though it may seem desperate, these times called for desperate measures. Willing to try anything that he would agree to, I made an appointment for him to start chiropractic care. Thankfully, I was able to persuade him to give it a try. Immediately, he began to feel better. The once groggy individual was now refreshed and his energy level had increased. He was able to go without ALL of his medication. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US;">This was an answer to our families’ prayers; most likely it is what saved his life. The road he was on was leading him to a life of destruction. We still have to take life day by day and be cautious of any setbacks, but the adjustments were enough to get him through to a point where he could be reasoned with. Now he is capable of seeing clearly and hearing what it was that his loved ones had been telling him all along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will be forever grateful for all Dr. Chad and the staff at Maximized Living has done for our family.</span><span style="font-family: "Calibri","sans-serif"; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 115%; mso-ansi-language: EN-US; mso-ascii-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-fareast; mso-hansi-theme-font: minor-latin;"> </span>Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-13971769924510209592013-10-16T20:47:00.001-05:002013-10-16T20:47:16.877-05:00Shopping for Heroine?I had to go to the grocery store. The thought had been plaguing my mind for the
past few days, and it was as daunting and frightening as a spooky haunted house
on Halloween. I didn't want to go. I was afraid. I wasn't sure I could trust
myself yet, especially alone. <br />I pushed the cart slowly, consciously aware of
each step I took I walked with trepidation looking for what I needed while
trying to avoid what I didn't proved impossible.<br />I stopped. The items on the
shelves evaporated and it their place where thousands of syringes. They stood
in perfect rows, glowing and calling to me. The temptation was almost too much
to bear. I looked around to see if the other shoppers had noticed, but they
continued to shop, seemingly unaware. They happily picked up multiple syringes
and piled them into their carts. Each cart was piled higher and higher with the
addictive substance. Babies cried for the drug on the shelf, and mother's
handed them to their child to quiet them with no worry or regard. I had to
press on. Somewhere in this huge store was the FOOD my family needed to
survive. But I had to FIND it. And I had to make it through without falling
into temptation. Stay strong, I whispered to myself. My hands shook a little
as I turned the corner to the next aisle. I passed my favorites....my go to
treats that were special to me for special occasions. The problem was, once I
started I couldn't stop. I never meant to be an addict. I criticized those who
couldn't kick those kinds of addicts. And here I was...a hypocrite. The
illusion of heroine lining the shelves faded back into the aisle of cookies I
had been hoping to avoid. <br />Sugar was my addiction. I had to be strong.
Falling off the wagon was not an option today. Kicking the sugar habit was one
of the toughest things I've had to do. It never leaves you. It's the first
thing you think of when you wake up in the morning and the last thing you think
of at night. You dream about it. You CRAVE it when you are stressed. You
negotiate the reasons you DESERVE it. And it is everywhere you look.<br />An
alcoholic can live without alcohol. A drug addict will not die from giving up
drugs. And a person who is addicted to sugar will not die giving up
sugar.....but you have to have FOOD to eat and sugar is in MOST of it. <br />An
recovering alcoholic stays away from bars and parties where they will be serving
alcohol. They have sponsors who they can call when they are feeling weak. A
drug addict changes friends and location many times when trying to kick the
habit to keep falling back into bad situations that would take them back to
square one.<br />When you are addicted to sugar, there isn't a support system. I
can't stop grocery shopping. There are no stores without sugar. There are no
restaurants with no sugar. Our whole society is centered around food. It is a
lonely world without it that most people don't understand.<br />What has shocked
me the most about this discovery, is how this must effect children with Autism
who are on special diets....especially ones who do not speak. As parents and
loved ones of these children, we tend to say, "Oh, just a little here and there
won't hurt." But if they really are addicted to these gluten and casein filled
foods, then it really DOES hurt. It's like giving the heroine addict one more
hit. It only makes fighting the cravings that much worse. When these special
children need to work so much harder than other children to focus and learn, how
can we justify clouding their brains with constant thoughts of their
addiction?<br />I am not perfect, but having this experience in my life has made
me re-think what I allow my kids to eat even more.<br />I think of a sign made of
tagboard and marker hanging in a school. The title read, "What to do to
relieve stress..." Two suggestions written in bold letters: Drink Sundrop;
Eat Ice Cream<br />Kids tell the truth. Meadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9048993586259582823.post-75020313386895733672013-10-16T20:45:00.000-05:002013-10-16T20:45:22.359-05:00Becoming the Green Bean Girl I recently read a note posted on facebook by a dear friend <a href="http://gaia-health.com/gaia-blog/2012-12-02/putting-love-into-cooking/"><span style="color: #2198a6;">http://gaia-health.com/gaia-blog/2012-12-02/putting-love-into-cooking/</span></a>.
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So much of what she described her Autistic son goes through daily sounded like
my own personal fight with FOOD...ugh! If only we didn't need it to survive, I
would gladly be DONE.....if I didn't crave it every minute and turn to it at
almost every stress that comes into my life daily. I feel like a drug
addict....wanting to do what is right, but life is continually tempting me with
a brief respite from the strain of the fight. I just want a moments peace to
feel good. But, I never feel good for long and I deal with the illness and brain
fog and guilt that follows.<br />I have too recently found that I cannot tolerate
nuts. I think they get stuck in the creases of my intestines and I cannot pass
them so they stick and make me feel terrible and grouchy. I've wondered for
years about a thyroid disorder- Hashimotos runs in my family and both of my boys
are treated for it. However, I haven't been able to get any doc to do the
expensive TSH test....just the standard ones have been within normal range. (I
still take two Iodine drops a day because I feel better- more
"grounded")<br />List of Foods I feel I cannot tolerate:<br />Dairy
(allergy)<br />Wheat (allergy)<br />Candida (allergy) So, no SUGAR<br />Pork
(sometimes)<br />Onions<br />Peppers<br />Tomatoes<br />Potatoes<br />Rice<br />All Fruit
except Grapefruit (newly introduced)<br />Chicken (unless organic)<br />Beans (all
except green)<br />Carrots<br />Eggs (allergy)<br /><br />I also do not care for raw
veggies....just can't stand the texture of them, except carrots which I can't
tolerate either way. And by tolerate, I mean I feel yucky, crappy, sick, and
slow.<br /><br />My daily diet consists of Dynamic Greens powder in coconut milk,
two hamburgers with a ton of green veggies like beans or peas, and then chicken,
steak, or pork with a ton of green veggies. And once in a while I have some
sugar-free coconut milk ice cream.<br /><br />"Cannot Tolerate" for me usually shows
up the next morning, like a hangover. I feel great while eating what I
shouldn't....no stomach or intestinal pains. But by the time I wake up, I am
groggy, crabby, I can't think straight and I am EXHAUSTED....usually needing at
least 10 hours of sleep, and if I didn't get it WATCH OUT! ;) I don't talk
much throughout the day. I forget easily what I am supposed to be doing. I run
into things frequently. I get black puffy circles under my eyes. My vision is
foggy and blurry and I basically shut out the world.<br /><br />My allergy symptoms
are different:<br />Wheat: Itching, hair loss, constipation, bloating<br />Dairy:
vivid nightmares, hard grey patches of skin on my elbows, knees and feet,
cravings, big-time brain fog and blurry vision<br />Eggs: intestinal issues and
swelling of the legs and feet<br /><br />Cutting out Sugar:<br /><br />And throughout
all of my daily food drama...even eliminating all those foods was not enough to
actually feel 100% better. I would figure out a little more and a little more
and maybe be 10-20% better. I was at the end of my rope, not seeing any
happiness in anything I did. I really lost the joy in my life because of
constant inner turmoil.<br /><br />When I decided I needed to take better care of
myself, it was a huge turning point in my life. I had wanted to start
Chiropractic care as the rest of my family had seen amazing results, but I
couldn't justify the cost for myself. I need that money for Autism. (bet ya
didn't think there was a tie in) I have to watch every penny and make
sacrifices to give my kids the best chance at life and I can't take that away
from them by seeking selfishly after treatment for myself.<br /><br />And then, the
thought entered my head.....<em>who is going to care for them if you are not
around? </em>I knew I had to find a way to make it work. I needed to try
something because I couldn't keep on going living the way things were.<br /><br />I
went to my first adjustment and I could miraculously see for the first time
since I was 6 years old- when I got my first pair of glasses. I had always had
problems seeing well.....my prescription changed every year, sometimes better,
sometimes worse, sometimes astigmatism in one eye sometimes in both. One time
the prescription was so off when I went to pick them up, I could not see
ANYTHING out of them and I had to redo the whole process. <br />I was also never
a good driver...especially at night. Lights blinded me and I couldn't judge
distance well. I can't even tell you the number of deer I hit or the times I
took off a mirror. :/ I had just accepted I CAN'T SEE! <em> I just have bad
eyesight.</em> <br />That wasn't the case at all. I had my neck adjusted and I
could finally see details and people's eyes and in 3D! I was living in a
two-dimensional world wearing frost-covered glasses. I felt pure joy and it
gave me back the will to live and keep going in this crazy autism journey I call
"life".<br /><br />Dr. Chad at Maximized Living <a href="http://trcwellness.com/"><span style="color: #2198a6;">http://trcwellness.com/</span></a> said if I hadn't
already been following the healthy lifestyle protocol they encourage for their
patients, I might not have seen such a dramatic change. I am so grateful for
the doctors who have cared enough to give us the knowledge.....as it has helped
my family to heal.....and now I can be a part of that as wellMeadowhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15980830250490700821noreply@blogger.com0