Moving on with the Dirt

 When Tea was in Kindergarten, I had serious depression. I had actually been dealing with it from the time she was born. By the December that she was in Kindergarten, I was at the point that I was laying in bed planning my death. That gloomy night that this happened, Tea came into my dark room, sat at the computer desk, and very softly started singing the songs that her class would be performing for her Christmas program at school. I laid in my bed and listened to her, tears silently streaming down my cheeks, and knew that I needed to get help. My little girl needed me around. I approached my psychiatrist about electroconvulsive therapy (ECT) at my next appointment several days later. He warned me that more people lose memories than the doctors will tell you about. We talked about it over the next several appointments as I saw him every three weeks, and my depression wasn't improving. The only thing that was keeping me alive was the memory of Tea quietly singing her Christmas carol...

 I know how much everyone loves personal stories, especially when they're ones that make you gasp, so let me share a cautionary tale. When I was 17, I was sent to a drug and alcohol rehab day treatment program. Mind you, I hadn't been diagnosed with bipolar disorder yet, and I was trying to regulate my moods with pot and alcohol. I was attending AA meetings. I met a man at these meetings one night. He was 24 years old, and I liked him a lot. He was easy to talk to. I went home with him three nights in a row, and on the third night I ended up having my sex with him, which was actually my first time that I had sex willingly with someone. That's not the cautionary tale, though. I tried getting in touch with this man the day after, and the day after that, and the day after that. There was no answer to my phone calls, so I stopped by his apartment. It was completely emptied out! He had disappeared without ever telling me that he was going anywhere. I'm not sure if he told an...

 A few week's ago, I mentioned that I'm part of a writer's group. This writer's group is part of a larger organization. They sponsor workshops, have a monthly newsletter, and host an annual writing contest. I wrote a poem in the beginning of 2020 which I actually had the courage to enter into their writing contest.  "Of Course, I Love You" He wakes up beside me and I look at him. "Do you love me?" I ask; my heart beats in anticipation of what his answer is going to be. "Of course, I love you," he answers, glancing at his phone on the bedside table. His answer this morning is the same as it has been every other morning. Of course, I love you. But I see that he is into his social network. He can't show me that he loves me. He can say it, but he can't reach over and stroke my hair, caress my hand, or give me a gentle kiss. Updating his status takes priority or catching up with what he may have missed in those precious hours while sleep...

 It's been awhile since I've given an update on Matthew. Remember in the beginning of this blog how I was having him retested because he was behaving so well that I didn't believe that he could possibly have autism? Well, that all went out the window. It's amazing how behaviors will change from day to day and week to week. Doing distance learning was definitely a challenge for him. He refused to do homework for us. The school didn't want to work with us; he didn't have an IEP this year because he was so "good" in school that he didn't need one. They started a 504 Plan for him, and after he had testing with the U of M, I told them that his neuropsychiatrist recommended a para to work with him on his homework. They pushed that off until the actual report came in, then agreed to it. Then it was just a matter of getting Matthew to work with that para. Basically, the testing showed that Matthew has such a high anxiety at school that he behaves and then ...