Play Therapy #SoCS

I had my first play therapy session on Wednesday. That is, I used to have play therapy when I was in elementary school. That was nearly 30 years ago though. Yikes, how time flies!

Anyway, I only had four sessions back then before the school holiday and apparently those were either enough or my parents didn’t consent to more play therapy. Not that they were paying, but oh well. My parents were very reluctant to agree to these first sessions anyway, because they were suspicious of anyone in the helping profession, including the play therapist. I wonder why, since the goal of therapy was that I not get angry as quickly anymore. I back then denied getting angry much at all. However, I did play with toy weapons all the time, threw out the purple-haired dollhouse figurines because people don’t have purple hair and tried to overflow the water tray. That might have been telling. Or not, since I don’t know whose initiative the toy weapons were.

I hated play therapy though, because I had to go to it during my favorite subject in school, biology. I wonder honestly what the point was.

Same now. I was initially told, back in February when I had the intake interview for therapy with two different therapists, that the type of therapy I’d get was called something like “differentiation therapy”. I filled in what I thought this meant and behaved in a way that I thought was consistent with this. I thought that the goal is to learn to identify different feelings, so this Wednesday I constantly named the attributes of the objects I played with. The therapist did note that I was adamant about which types of play-doh I liked or didn’t like, but she didn’t write anything about me constantly saying, for example, that the PlayMobil® figurine was giving its companion its left rather than right hand, etc.

I’m pretty sure I was trying to show off with this behavior. I’m now scared she’s going to think I’m far more capable of identifying feelings than I am. Or think I am. Or whatever. I hope we’ll get something out of play therapy this time around, unlike back in 1996 when I was ten.


This post was written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday (#SoCS), for which the prompt is “school”. I interpreted it loosely, because I really wanted to write about play therapy. I’m going to write an actual post on my first session later.

Memoirs and Biographies

This week, there are many interesting prompts for the Writer’s Workshop. I am still thinking I might write on a different prompt tomorrow, but usually I don’t get to it. Today, I’m choosing the prompt about memoirs, biographies or reference books. They are, after all, my favorite genre to read.

I was not an avid reader as a child. Still am not a voracious reader, but I did discover the love of reading through memoirs and autobiographies. When I was in my late teens, I briefly was a member of the UK’s national library for the blind. They sent me Braille books. Yes, the clunky hardcover volumes (often eight or more per book).

I usually chose memoirs. Among my favorites were Planet of the Blind by Stephen Kuusisto and Emma and I by Sheila Hocken.

The first is an autobiography by a person blind from the same eye condition I have. If I’m correct, Kuusisto had some vision as a child but lost it later on, like I did too.

The second, which is the first in several books, talks mostly about the author’s experience of getting a guide dog.

I eventually got kicked off the library service for losing two volumes of a book, I’m not sure which one, in the mail back to them. However, this experience is probably what got me to love memoirs and autobiographies.

I currently often read foster care memoirs. My favorite authors are Casey Watson and Maggie Hartley. Cathy Glass is good too, but she stopped writing.

I recently discovered a new-to-me foster care memoirist, Louise Allen. That’s not entirely correct: I had heard of her a while ago, but because her books have horribly nondescript titles like Jacob’s Story, I didn’t fancy reading them. Now I am currently reading Jacob’s Story and think it’s fascinating. I must say though that the book is really a crossover between fiction and memoir, since the author writes from perspectives other than her own too. That makes it all the more intriguing, but I’m not entirely sure the books would count as memoirs.

Daily Habits I Already Do That Improve My Quality of Life

Daily writing prompt
What daily habit do you do that improves your quality of life?

So many times, we think about the habits we could add to our daily routine to improve our quality of life. I at least do and then the only thing I do is make a list of them, but I don’t actually add most habits to my daily routine. I must admit, there’s very little I do literally everyday. This, however, is a nice reminder to look at the tiny things I do (almost) daily that improve my life.

  1. Get up at a reasonable time. I used to be a big one for lie-ins until late morning or early afternoon. Now though, I always get up between 8AM and 8:30AM. Yes, also on weekends. I sometimes go back to bed after breakfast for about half an hour, but I consider that my chill moment rather than me needing the extra sleep.
  2. Eat breakfast. I sometimes skip lunch or dinner, but I never skip breakfast. This hasn’t always been the case. Like, when I was a teen usually the first thing I’d pop into my mouth would be a candy bar or two from the school vending machine. Even when in the mental hospital, I’d often not wake up until mid-morning or later and would skip breakfast.
  3. Brush my teeth. This is another one that hasn’t always been this way. Like, in the mental hospital I’d skip toothbrushing more often than I’d actually do it. The staff thought that I just didn’t want to brush my teeth and,, since I had a borderline personality disorder diagnosis, this was considered “my choice”. However, I struggled with the feel of the manual toothbrush, the taste of toothpaste and I’d often simply forget to brush my teeth.

    Now, I get reminded to brush my teeth and my staff supervise me. Though I haven’t found a solution to the toothpaste issue, using an electric toothbrush helps a lot already.
  4. Go for a walk. Or several. This is something I don’t literally do everyday, but 99% of the time, I go for at least one longer walk.
  5. Call or text my spouse. Social interaction helps improve quality of life too, so I include this one. I sometimes am so busy with my morning activity that I don’t text my spouse until early afternoon, but not a day goes by when we don’t interact.

Looking at this list, most of these habits I do in the morning. That’s so interesting, since I consider myself a night person. Things I do in the evening that improve my life, however, aren’t usually literally daily habits.

If You Aren’t Prepared For an Imperfect Child…

Yesterday someone on Reddit’s Childfree sub asked why many parents-to-be have this idea that they’ll get the perfect child. You might say that having dreams for your unborn child is normal, and it is. Having this clear-cut image of what your child will (that is, should) achieve in life, is not.

Of course, there are thankfully many parents who are able to adjust their image of their child if (or rather, when) said child does not conform to their initial expectations. My parents, unfortunately, are not among them.

Like I’ve probably shared on this blog before, when I was a baby and sustained a brain bleed due to premature birth, my parents were concerned for my quality of life. This is more or less normal, although it wasn’t back in the ’80s. In fact, the doctor flat out told my parents not to interfere, since they were keeping me alive period. I am forever grateful for this, despite the fact that the same doctor admitted in 2004 that he sometimes meets former preemies he’d been keeping alive that he now thinks of: “What have we done?!”

At that time, I thought he would not mean me. I was still passing for “just blind” and, though blindness is considered a major disability, it’s one that by itself does not prevent someone from living independently and going to university.

That was the exact same reason my father, when talking about euthanasia of severely disabled babies in 2006, didn’t mean me. He did, however, mean those with intellectual disability and those with severe mobility impairments (the case at hand involved a baby with severe spina bifida). And I’ll never forget that he added to his statement that he didn’t mean me, “because you’re training to live independently and go to university”. As you all know, that didn’t work out.

My parents did find a workaround to the problem of my not being the perfect child they’d envisioned: they decided that my landing in the mental health system and now in a care home for those with intellectual disability, is my choice rather than a necessity. I haven’t fully processed all the ways in which this attitude, which some of my care professionals took over, has impacted me. It hurts though.

Now back to the idea of a perfect child. Even when disability isn’t involved, a child is their own unique individual, with their own strengths, weaknesses, wants and needs. When a parent decides that their child should go to university at eighteen even though they are still in Kindergarten, like my parents did, that doesn’t just impact a disabled child. It impacts any child for whom for whatever reason university isn’t the best place to go at eighteen. Such as, for instance, any child with an average or even slightly above-average IQ. Or any child that is more capable of practical jobs than of academic ones. And any child who, God forbid, doesn’t want to go to university.

If you aren’t ready for a disabled child, a child who isn’t a top achiever, a child who might I say has their own personality, by all means don’t become a parent. You don’t know what your child will be like, after all. Having dreams is alright, but be ready to adjust your image of your child when the need arises. And for goodness’ sake, don’t guilt trip your child for being themselves.

I’m linking this post up with this week’s #WWWhimsy.

#WeekendCoffeeShare (August 10, 2024)

Hi everyone on this beautiful Saturday in August. I’m joining #WeekendCoffeeShare today. It’s nearly 10PM, so I’ve long had my last cup of coffee and my soft drink for the day. I, however, do have Kinder Country candy bars in my cupboard, as well as lots of other candy. I bet I could persuade the staff to open the cupboard for you, but I can’t persuade them to brew you a coffee. Water will have to do. Anyway, let’s have a drink and let’s catch up.

If we were having coffee, I’d start by sharing about the weather. It’s mostly been quite warm with daytime temps in the mid to high 20s Celsius. We did get rain yesterday, but thankfully no thunderstorms. On Monday, the daytime high is supposed to be 32°C. I’m a warm weather person, but that’s too hot even for my liking.

If we were having coffee, I’d tell you I did a lot of walking over the past week. On four days out of the past seven, I got in over 100 exercise minutes according to my Apple Watch and I didn’t even go swimming this week, as the institution pool is closed now.

If we were having coffee, I would tell you that I’ve been struggling a lot lately. Part of the reason I’m showing it more might be the fact that I discontinued my morning dose of topiramate a little over a month ago, but it’s not (just) that which explains why I’m feeling like crap. After all, I’ve been feeling like crap for months. Make that years, honestly. I am realizing I never recovered from the blow to my self-esteem that was being more or less kicked out of the care home in Raalte. No, don’t interrupt that I wasn’t kicked out, since I know I literally wasn’t. However, when I realized the intensive support home was the nightmare it was and asked to be put on the waiting list to return (or actually return, since I asked before my room was filled up), I was told that some people had actually been glad that I’d left.

Why is this relevant now? Because, even though my current home is better than the intensive support home, I’m still feeling like I’m massively overloaded and my capabilities are massively overestimated when I’m struggling. This leads to staff not following my current support agreements, which even when followed to a T create just about barely manageable a care situation if even that when I’m feeling low (they’re okay when I’m feeling good). I know I said the same of my day schedule back at the intensive support home, but I only said so because my staff there had already decided I was a spoiled brat and wouldn’t stop complaining until I had full-time one-to-one. Which was almost correct before topiramate, but it wasn’t when I was on this medication. And it isn’t now either. After all, when I wished for near full-time one-on-one back in 2021, I didn’t realize its implications in care. I do now.

I realize I might need to go back on my full dose of topiramate (even though the evening dose is going to be discontinued next week too), but I don’t think it’s an excuse to keep everything else the exact same, since my needs weren’t being met before I discontinued this medication. In short, yes, the med might get me to shut up, or it might not, but either way something else needs to change too.

After many meltdowns, I finally wrote down my care needs in a document and E-mailed this to my assigned staff. I did water them down a little to make them manageable within the way my home operates, but not so much that I’d have every reason to still complain if the team decide to implement this. At the end of the document, I put in a brief summary of my care in Raalte (in early 2022, so when the team had already fallen apart) and asked for recognition of the improvements I’ve made since. I mean, I don’t seriously request to be moved now (I do blurt it out during meltdowns) and I wish I got half as suitable care as I got back then.

The support coordinator mostly making decisions about me, is on vacation now, but she’ll return on Tuesday. I hope I’ll have a meeting with her and the behavior specialist soon to discuss my needs.

If we were having coffee, lastly I’d share some positives of the day today. I realize this post was mostly negative, after all, but today was a pretty good day. Here are some reasons why:

  • My assigned staff was here this morning.

  • She brought me a cup of coffee right when waking me up.

  • Even though we were late finishing my morning routine, the staff coming for my morning activity came right on time.

  • I went for three walks today.

  • I had a waffle with forest fruit jelly, powdered sugar and whipped cream on it with my afternoon coffee. And a macaron in the morning. Sorry not sorry, dietitian.

  • I was able to ask the staff who did my afternoon activity with me, whether she’s leaving (which I thought because I’d seen her with a client from another home) and thankfully she said no. I am proud of myself for up front asking her rather than getting distressed.