August 2023 Reflections #WBOYC

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. It’s the last day of the month, so it’s time for my monthly reflections. Overall, August was slightly better than July, but it’s still been quite a tough month. Honestly, it’s been quite a tough year so far.

My spouse’s car broke down a few weeks ago, so we weren’t able to see each other each week this past month. Last Sunday, though my spouse did visit me, it was in my mother-in-law’s car. Thankfully, the car has been fixed for now.

My mother-in-law also only visited me once this past month despite there being five Tuesdays in August and her normally visiting me every other Tuesday. On the 1st, she had to work and on the 29th, a new horse was delivered. The story behind her having gotten a new horse is a bit sad, in that one of her horses, Remco, passed away suddenly last month. I mean, he was already crippled, so could only step around a bit, but still his death was unexpected. The new horse is a young mare called Marrit.

Now on to my own life. It’s been boring. I’ve been mostly waiting to find out more about the move. Last Sunday, my support coordinator told me that I’ll move within six weeks, probably sooner. I honestly have mixed feelings about the whole thing. Obviously, I try to remind myself it can’t be worse than here, but what if it isn’t any better either? Will I be expected to magically flourish there just because it’s not this home? I’m hoping, of course, that I will eventually flourish, but this isn’t going to happen magically. Indeed, this requires work, both on my part and on the part of the staff.

I also, like I mentioned yesterday, have had an increase in flashbacks to my childhood trauma. Of course, I could hope this will lessen when (if?) I’m in a calmer environment, but still I’m pretty sure they won’t disappear without support.

In the health department, I’m doing pretty well. I had a meeting with the dietitian yesterday and she asked me not to lose any more weight. I’m not sure how to do this, truthfully, as I’m eating well overall. There’s also this thought at the back of my mind telling me that I could still lose 10kg and be at a healthy BMI. Besides, I still have quite a lot of abdominal fat and watched some YouTube videos a while back that mentioned the dangers of internal obesity. Then again, the dietitian told me there’s very little I can do about this. The YouTube videos tell me otherwise, but then again my healthy voice is telling me (or at least I’m assuming it’s my healthy voice) that following those YouTubers will just lead to extreme restricting, which will probably just cause me to relapse into bulimia. I’m still struggling intensely with all the things diet culture tells me about what to eat and not to eat to preserve my health and, at the same time, my dietitian has one foot right inside diet culture as well. After all, my food plan was a classic weight loss plan up until I reached a healthy BMI. Heck, the very fact that I mention the BMI here shows how much I’m into diet culture. I want to unlearn this, but I’m not sure how.

With respect to other health factors, I’m doing okay. I walk more than I did in July, have been swimming again and went on the stationary bike occasionally. That being said, I do worry about a decline in my mobility. This could be the YouTube videos again, which told me a loss of arm swing could be a sign of overall decline. I have absolutely no idea whether my arm ever swung at all though. That being said, my drop foot seems to be getting worse too.

I did finally get the eczema on my legs treated. I also got a slight infection on the skin of my earlobes, where I had my ears pierced in early July. I’m currently on a course of an antibiotic ointment, so hoping that’ll work.

In the crafty department, I haven’t been very active. I did create a lot of unicorns out of polymer clay, but they were all done using cutters, not sculpted. I intend to paint them and use them as gifts for my fellow residents when leaving this home.

I’m linking up with What’s Been On Your Calendar? (#WBOYC).

Opening Up About My Trauma

Posted on by Astrid

Last Monday, I was going for a walk with my one-on-one for the moment when we saw a few clients and staff she knew (she’s a temp worker). She wanted to “say a quick hi”. That turned into a fifteen-minute conversation between her and one of the other staff, which eventually turned to clients with severe challenging behavior being taken on outings off grounds and then, when they act out, staff being filmed by bystanders when restraining the client. This discussion triggered me, because it led to flashbacks of the times I’ve been “guided” (as staff call it) to my room. More like physically moved by several staff at a time, and the fact that I wasn’t officially restrained (because that probably only counts when you’re pinned down to the ground), is solely due to my lack of physical strength.

I asked the staff, admittedly more curtly than I should have, to not have these discussions in my presence in the future, as it was triggering me. She told me I was making it all about me and if I wanted to offer an opinion I should’ve made sure I listened to the whole thing because now I was twisting the truth. I told her about the time I was shoved to my room and staff threatened to lock me up in there. “You probably deserved it,” was her response.

This led to a whole chain reaction of triggers, in which I started to doubt the validity of my trauma-related symptoms. Didn’t I deserve the harsh punishments my parents gave me? I know at least back in my day an “educational spanking” was legal. In some U.S. states, child abuse isn’t even child abuse if it’s used as punishment.

I can’t go into the details of the punishments I endured as a child, and I’m pretty sure they’re not necessarily illegal. Does that mean they can’t have caused me PTSD?

That evening though, I was having intense flashbacks and decided to open up to my staff for that moment. She happened to be one of the staff who’d shoved me to my room on Friday and threatened to lock me in there. I had to admit – even though I don’t believe it – that I deserved to be physically moved to my room. I mean, the reason was my dropping the F-bomb while in the communal room (and then refusing to go to my room on my own when told to), which, well, truthfully staff do all the time.

After I’d given examples of the way my parents treated me, my staff seemed quite shocked. I honestly don’t understand this, as she restrains clients everyday and never even cares about the impact this has on them. I mean, I know, staff restraining clients is legal, but then again does something have to be illegal to be traumatic? And if so, where’s the boundary between an “educational spanking” and child abuse? Or does it have to be unwarranted? In that case, I must say, my parents acted out of a need to show who’s boss because they’d felt powerless over my behavior. I did, indeed, try to excuse my parents’ actions by explaining about my own behavior. The staff didn’t seem impressed.

I know, in my heart, that the truth is that restraints can and do traumatize clients too. I know I experienced trauma while in the psychiatric hospital because of being locked up in seclusion against my will. I know I still experience emotional trauma. And, of course, I’m more sensitive to this due to the trauma I endured as a child. But it isn’t black-or-white. And this is confusing.

Act Your Age, Astrid?!

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today’s topic for Sunday Poser is the idea of acting our age. Society expects us to act a certain way depending on our age – not just behave quite responsibly past our mid-twenties or so, but also to wear certain clothes, listen to certain music, enjoy certain activities, etc. depending on our age. Do we generally conform to that expectation? A quick read through the comments on Sadje’s original post gave me the impression that, no, we don’t. And I personally certainly don’t.

With respect to the responsible behavior part, I have to admit, unlike the other participants, that I’m very much a child – no, a toddler – at heart. I still have significant temper outbursts, for instance. In fact, on my thirtieth birthday, I had an intense outburst and was adamant that I could no longer have those in my thirties. Well, my brain wouldn’t listen. It’s said that my emotional developmental level is comparable in many ways to that of an infant or young toddler.

In other ways, I’m still a child at heart too. I love unicorns, going on the swings at the institution playground and stuffed animals. I even talk to my stuffed animals at times.

Then in other areas, I do act my age or even older. I’m not keen on using my phone when doing another activity and get annoyed when my staff get constantly distracted by text messages. I don’t really do social media except for Facebook (which probably makes me appear really old). It isn’t that I haven’t tried, but I was rather late to the party with most platforms.

Of course, the fact that I use the singular pronoun “I” here, is a bit misguided too, since we’re a plural system and there are parts of all ages. This is probably one of the reasons that I can talk to my stuffed animals happily one moment, have a temper tantrum the next and be involved in an “old-fashioned” hobby later. I do sometimes wonder whether my parts are genuine alters or whether something like internal family systems could help them too. Then again, I’m not in therapy, IFS or otherwise, anyway.

Poem: Home Is…

Posted on by Astrid

Home was
At my parents’
Who were there and yet weren’t there for me
Hurting me in ways I feel I can’t express
It wasn’t safe
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
On my own
Barely holding on by a thread
Surviving but that was about as far as it went
It wasn’t doable
Or maybe that’s just me

Home was
In the mental hospital
Where I stayed for nearly a decade
Only to be kicked out again
That wasn’t forever
And that wasn’t me

Home was
With my spouse
Again, barely holding on by a thread
Managing life by sleeping and panicking
It didn’t work out
But maybe that was me again

Home then was
In the care facility in Raalte
About as unsuitable as they come in theory
But it was near-perfect in reality
And yet, I left
And that was me (sort of)

Home then became
My current care home
With harsh staff, chaotic clients and poor quality of care
I wasn’t abused (not really), but that’s about as far as it goes
It doesn’t feel safe
But then I wonder, isn’t that just me?

Maybe soon home will be
The future care home
The big unknown
Will I feel sort of happy there?
No-one can tell
But it’s up to me

To make myself feel at home

This poem may sound a bit self-loathing. It isn’t intended this way, but I couldn’t express as concisely how I feel about my various “homes” and particularly the way people have told me I approach them (ie. the idea that I’m never satisfied anyway because I’m looking for perfection) without sounding this way. This is definitely not my best poem, but oh well, it shows my conflicting feelings about the fact that I’ve never felt “at home” anywhere.

I’m joining dVerse’s OLN. I’m also joining Friday Writings. The optional prompt is “muscle memory”. I guess repeating that I don’t feel at home anywhere counts.

Decisions Made for Me

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. I’m joining Denyse’s #WWandPics once again. This week, she talks about the letter D words that relate to her, among which “decisions”. I wanted to write about decisions too, but this time, about the reality of decisions being made for you. This may not happen to non-disabled adults much, but it happens to me all the time.

Like with my upcoming move. I know next to nothing about my future care home and, when I told my assigned staff that this frustrates me, she pointed out that I’ll move there anyway so how would giving me more info help?

Honestly, I wish I were given some way to have any level of input into the process. I know the reason the powers-that-be have decided to give me no choice is probably because they feel I’m too critical anyway. They believe I’m looking for the perfect home, which they and I know doesn’t exist given my rather complicated care needs.

They always tell me that I wanted to leave the care facility in Raalte, which was near-perfect compared to my current one. I did, in a way. That is, I wanted to have a discussion with the behavior specialist to explore the possibility of me finding another care home. That’s not the same. And they were the ones not being up front with me about all the things I’d lose if I wanted to live on institution grounds and have fellow clients with whom I could speak. They may’ve technically allowed me to make the decision to move here, but they gave me the bare minimum amount of information to make that decision.

Now they’re not letting me make a decision at all. It makes me feel intensely powerless and that’s a really distressing feeling. And who will be in trouble if my behavior doesn’t improve? Yup, me. Some staff have come to call me spoiled, in fact, so the burden is on me to show them I can handle whatever this new home has to offer. If I can’t, well, too bad, then I either have to learn to live with the decisions made for me or find myself another way to cope.

The Wednesday HodgePodge (August 23, 2023)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I’m joining the Wednesday HodgePodge once again. Here goes.

1. What’s your earliest memory?
My third birthday. My paternal grandma brought me a doll from Berlin and my father taught my sister and me the German word for “doll” (“Puppe”). My sister and I, of course, laughed really hard about this, as “Puppe” sounds just like the Dutch verb for “poo”. The doll, by the way, is named Roza, because my father also said Rosa (but then again, as a child I had no clue how to spell it) is a German name.

2. What’s something about you today that the old you would find surprising?
The fact that I live in an institution. Until I was about 25, living in an institution was my worst nightmare.

3. Do you like to fish? Are you a fish eater? Favorite fish (to eat)? Favorite way to prepare fish?
I’ve only been fishing once and found it intensely boring. Then again, I can’t see so that takes away what little fun I imagine there is to fishing.

I do like fish, but usually just the once with the not-too-distinct flavor. The only exception is tuna, which I love and would probably be my favorite fish to eat. When my sister turned vegetarian and showed my parents info about the unethical consequences of tuna eating, they for a while refused to buy it. I got really upset.

4. What’s your biggest first world problem?
I’m not sure whether my unsuitable care home counts as a first world problem. I guess it does, since most disabled people in developing countries don’t have a choice where they live at all. Neither do I at this point, in the sense that I know next to nothing about my future care home and am told that since I’m moving anyway it’d be pointless to give me more info. I have a post scheduled for tomorrow on this topic. In any case, I’m still fortunate in many ways I guess.

5. What one word would you use to describe your year thus far?
Chaos.

6. Insert your own random thought here.
I almost broke my record of active calories burned on my Apple Watch today. Honestly, I think relatively speaking I already broke it, since my last record dates from September of last year and I weighed 12kg more than I do now, so burned off more calories with the same physical exertion. I still need 20 exercise minutes to break my exercise record (which I set on the same day), but I won’t do that. Those 15 active calories I still need to burn for my movement record should be doable though. Today, unlike the time I set my old record, I did a variety of workouts: walking, swimming, the stationary bike and dancing.

How Sensory Seeking Manifests in Me

Posted on by Astrid

As those who visit my blog regularly will know, I am autistic. My assigned staff put “highly sensitive” rather than autistic on my basic info sheet. This isn’t necessarily incorrect, but it is definitely incomplete. Not just because autism encompasses more than sensory processing challenges and because the hyped-up term of “highly sensitive” doesn’t come close to describing my level of overload, but also because in certain ways, I am not hypersensitive at all. Today, I want to talk about the ways in which I am, in fact, a sensory seeker.

The main aspect in which I’m a sensory seeker, is reflected in the way I approach food. I love love LOVE spicy food. I also love crunchy food. I can’t stand mash, because that is about the polar opposite of both. Honestly though, I find the texture matters more than the flavor, since mash didn’t get better with lots of black pepper on it and I can handle bland yet crunchy foods.

I also chew on hard candy. Like, I’ve tried sucking on it, but I really can’t manage to do that for more than a few seconds before I need to break the candy. Another example, but I’m not sure whether this is sensory seeking or lack of proprioception and/or coordination, is the fact that my staff tell me my spoon always clanks against my teeth quite loudly. I also realize now that drinking my coffee quite hot is probably a sign of being a sensory seeker.

With the sense of smell, I have a love/hate relationship. I love my essential oil diffuser, but don’t usually wear perfumes and can’t really stand anyone else wearing them.

In the tactile sense, I’m definitely a sensory seeker. This doesn’t mean I like all kinds of touch. I mean, I can’t stand it when people unexpectedly pat me on the back. Truthfully though, it should really go without saying that you should never touch another person without asking them first.

However, I love tight hugs, or used to before I broke my collarbone in 2019, which never properly healed. I also love to be rough when brushing my hair and am probably a bit rough when brushing my teeth too. When I wear my hair in a ponytail, it has to be tight too. And my shoelaces can’t really be tied too tightly. And yes, my spouse took up the challenge, only to tell me that, even though I didn’t think they were too tight, they actually were.

I of course need to mention my weighted blanket here too. It is 12kg, which is between 20 and 25% of my body weight. That’s on the heavy side as far as I’m aware. Of course, I got it when I still weighed nearly 20kg more than I weigh now, but then I’d often end up adding another weighted blanket on top of it.

Another aspect of sensory seeking I need to mention is being in constant motion, even if it’s small movements with my fingers or toes. I am not diagnosed with ADHD, though sometimes I think I could have it. I wasn’t extremely hyper as a child – in fact, my parents would describe me as a quiet child. However, I was definitely jumping onto lots of things. I no longer do this, but mostly because I can’t due to my decreased mobility. Now that I think of it, honestly I’m pretty sure that my need to walk a lot, is also a sign of sensory seeking and/or hyperactivity.

With respect to the sense of sound, I’m not generally a seeker. I do listen to soothing music on my music pillow when trying to get to sleep, but that’s it. I can’t stand background noise. Like, some staff suggest we have music on in the background while we play games, but I really can’t concentrate then.

Lastly, of course, is the sense of sight. I’m blind now, obviously, but when I was younger, I still had some sight. I definitely was a sensory seeker when it came to the visual modality. The most striking example is the fact that I’d often make shadows on my desk with my hands and look at them.

There are many other ways in which I express sensory seeking, but you get the idea. All this being the case, don’t discount my sensory overload just because I can be a seeker in other circumstances.

My Random Musings

Also linking up with Senior Salon Pit Stop.

Life Always Offers Me a Second Chance

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I haven’t touched the blog in a few days once again. It’s getting old. I often do want to write, but don’t know what about except how shitty things are here at the care home and how I still haven’t got a moving date. Endless venting about the care home isn’t going to please my readers though, so I usually end up trashing those posts. After all, even though I originally intended this blog to be for me to write from the heart, I do care about my readership.

I do still read blogs, albeit not as much as I used to. Today, I came across an inspirational one-liner by Tanya: life always offers you a second chance. It is called tomorrow.

This definitely speaks to me. Of course, it isn’t always true, in that eventually we’ll all die and not have a second chance. However, until that point comes around, we can always create a better rest of our life. It doesn’t even have to be tomorrow, if that just leads to procrastination. It can also be a minute from now.

I employ this logic when it comes to my disordered eating and other unhealthy coping mechanisms. I see each day – or if needed, each moment – as its own opportunity for growth. For this reason, I don’t count the days I’m free from self-harm, in the sense that I’ll have to “start over” when I’ve had a slip up. I don’t do “cheat days” either. Not that I’m on a diet, but even when I did follow a stricter food plan than I currently do, I didn’t consider a day ruined when I had binged. Interestingly, I did at one point struggle with letting go of my 300-odd day streak of reaching my movement goal on my Apple Watch. However, I am happy to report it doesn’t start over when it comes to calculating when I’ve reached 365 days of completing my movement goal (I think it’s going to be this Thursday or Friday).

In a sense, the idea that life will always give me a second chance tomorrow, might be an excuse to laze around. However, that’s not the point. The point of this idea probably is that there’s no use in dwelling on my past mistakes, because as long as I live, there’s time to set them straight.

The Wednesday HodgePodge (August 16, 2023)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I haven’t participated in the Wednesday HodgePodge in a while. The reason is a comment Joyce, the organizer, made about Rikkie Kolle, the trans woman who won the Miss Netherlands competition last month. Trans rights are dear to my heart, so I felt the need to educate Joyce (respectfully, of course), even though I will probably not be able to convince her that trans women are women. After this, I didn’t feel I could in my right mind participate in the HodgePodge again, despite the fact that Joyce assured me that people from all walks of life are welcome. Then today I decided to check back and the first HodgePodge’er I stumbled upon happened to be Jewish. That’s a relief. So now I feel that I may be able to join in again, given that it’s indeed not just a place for conservative Christians.

1. What motivates you to work hard?
Nothing, honestly. I am not a hard worker. That being said, if I want to accomplish something, I thrive on setting myself deadlines.

2. It’s been said “Ignorance is bliss”…is it?
It depends. Where it comes to the state of this world, a healthy balance is needed. I mean, complete ignorance will lead people to mistreat the planet and each other even more than we already are, but being completely submerged in negative news, won’t solve anything either.

I think the same goes for our daily life. I mean, I watched a video on signs of dementia a few days ago and was shocked to find out I ticked more boxes than I thought I would. Now the doctor doing the video covered the complete spectrum from entirely healthy (which I know I’m not) to end-stage dementia. I am pretty sure I’m still at a stage where I can reverse any cognitive decline I might be experiencing. In this sense, ignorance could’ve felt like bliss, but it isn’t necessarily so.

3. Would you rather be stuck on a broken elevator or a broken ski lift? Explain. Have you ever actually been stuck on either? Of the common fears listed here what’s your #1: heights-enclosed spaces-snakes-public speaking-the dark-flying.
I’d probably choose an elevator, though neither seems appealing to me. Never experienced either. Out of the common fears, I’ll choose snakes as my number one because I’m very scared of venomous animals. I can handle a non-venomous snake without a problem though, have even had a small one around my neck.

4. What’s something you like about the town or city where you live?
The institution I live in (not my specific home, of course). The rest of the town is boring.

5. Life is too short to ___.
Waste it by endless worrying. Oh now how I wish I could stop doing it.

6. Insert your own random thought here.
I haven’t shared this with the HodgePodge crowd yet, but I am soon moving to another care home. My assigned staff actually mentioned September. I havent’been given an exact date yet and won’t find out till about two weeks in advance. Fingers crossed it won’t be like the end of September, because quite frankly I can’t wait.

Colors, Changes and Connections

Posted on by Astrid

Today, I am joining Denyse’s #WWandPics link-up. Denyse apparently has been sharing posts following an alphabetical theme. Today, she talks about the letter C. I could do this alphabet thing too, but then I’d have to start at A. Instead, I’m taking inspiration from her “C” words to write my post.

Denyse’s first “C” word is “change”. Of course, things are changing in my world too, though I’m not yet sure when. I got informed last Saturday that my new care home will keep my current day schedule for now. That’s in spite of the fact that it apparently indeed does cover two hours more care a day than I get funding for. I still don’t fully understand the technicalities, but I don’t really care, as the number of support hours I get according to my day schedule was never the problem. It was how cut up into at most 60-minute activity blocks it is. It’s okay though. Better than the alternative my staff have been suggesting, saying I need to find a way to cut back on those two hours and go down to 30-minute activity blocks.

I asked my support coordinator about having a care plan review. We haven’t had one in nearly two years due to my moving to my current home right when my last review was due. My support coordinator is going to get the new one to schedule a review once I’m settled there and he will attend too.

He also finally sent my mother-in-law an activation code to access the daily reports on me and my care plan. As far as my mother-in-law is concerned, they mostly report really superficially. For those who are wondering, back several years ago it was agreed upon that I wouldn’t get access because it might cause distress, but I did want someone in my family to have access especially now that I’m struggling significantly. Most daily reports apparently go something along the lines of “mostly had a good day, slightly stressed over ___”. I don’t know whether it’s deliberate, but that’s certainly downplaying my distress.

The support coordinator for the new home did ask my current support coordinator to confirm what color paint I want on my wall, despite the fact that I’m pretty sure I already told him through my mother-in-law. It will be pink, since lilac wasn’t available. Truthfully, all other colors except maybe blue sounded awfully ugly to me. And yes, despite being blind, I do have some concept of color from when I could still see a little.

Through all this change, I am happy about my online connections. I have multiple disabilities, so am in Facebook groups for various conditions. I am also in a few Facebook groups for former preemies or NICU babies in general. The Dutch one is organizing a get-together in September. I sent the organizer an E-mail to sign up, then decided to ask some further questions in the Facebook group. As far as I’m aware, the get-together will be held in a café-style meeting room, so I’ll most likely be able to get the ParaTransit taxi driver to get me right to where I need to be. On the one hand, I’m reminding myself that I used to attend the DID charity meetups independently each month from 2011 till 2013 and even rode the train there by myself. On the other hand, it’s 2023, not 2013 and I’ve probably declined cognitively at least a little. Then again, if I don’t try, I’ll never know if I can do this. I would really love to connect to other NICU survivors, as honestly I’m beginning to realize I might not be alone in experiencing significant attachment issues and they might in fact have started this early on.