Care Needs

Posted on by Astrid

Last year, when I was first feeling like I was falling apart at my current care home, I wrote a list of my “needs” and E-mailed it to my assigned staff and support coordinator. I heavily watered down my wishes, thinking a need isn’t the same as a want and whatever comes out of a discussion of my needs, should be working for everybody involved, not just me. For example, I asked for more clarity on what activities I’d be doing each day and offered to use my whiteboard, but also said staff could just ask me what I thought I’d be doing and help me find a suitable activity; this last one was then put into my day schedule, ie. “Staff upon leaving asks Astrid what she’s going to do next”. Needless to say, this didn’t work for me, being autistic, at all, as it leaves the same amount of unstructured chaos as the old wording, which was simply that I had “alone time”, did.

Now, more than a year later and with the Center for Consultation and Expertise involved to help me and my staff improve my quality of life, I’ve written another list, but this time, it doesn’t offer solutions for my unmet needs; rather, it’s simply a list of problems I encounter at this home. In a way, I feel that being solution-focused should be more constructive, but then again this time I have the consultant to think up possible solutions to come closer to meeting my needs.

This post was written for the Six Sentence Story linky, for which the prompt this week is “need”.

Do I Have a Mental Illness?

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Several happenings today, including my reading today’s Friday Faithfuls post, made me think about the question whether I have a mental illness. Or should I say mental health condition? Is there even a difference?

People who know me, may be surprised at the fact that I even ask this question. I mean, of course! I spent nearly a decade in a psychiatric hospital. Then again, when I was first admitted, the psychiatrist deciding to admit me made it very clear that she wasn’t diagnosing me with a serious mental illness. I had a diagnosis of autism, of course, which though it is in the DSM and though here in the Netherlands it falls within the realm of psychiatry, isn’t technically speaking a mental illness. To be added to this diagnosis was adjustment disorder, which in short means an inability to cope with the stressors of daily life. Nowadays, people with this diagnosis alone don’t qualify for mental health services, let alone admission to a psychiatric hospital.

But once I was in the system, numerous mental health diagnoses which may fall under the realm of mental illness, were added. My first was impulse control disorder not otherwise specified, which I’m pretty sure was just a way of explaining away my meltdowns without admitting they were due to less than adequate care. I often wondered why they singled out impulse control as the only issue on which they gave me the vague “not otherwise specified” diagnosis. I guess it’s because, unlike my anxiety, depression, disordered eating, etc., my meltdowns did bother other people.

Then, several years later, came (complex) PTSD and dissociative identity disorder. These are mental illnesses, but they are caused by overwhelming circumstances, just like adjustment disorder.

Later came borderline and eventually dependent personality disorder. Finally, I was diagnosed with recurring depression in 2017.

All this to say, whether I have a mental illness or not, isn’t as straightforward as it may seem. I do know that my current care plan lists “mental health problems” as a general “diagnosis”. I honestly try not to care about the specifics of my diagnosis, but I’ve learned the hard way that the specifics can be used against me. For example, when I had the personality disorder diagnoses, I was kicked out of the psych hospital with almost no aftercare because of allegedly misusing care. I wish the higher-ups would look beyond the labels and at the individual.

Hope for My Home #SoCS

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today’s prompt for #SoCS is “starts with ‘ho’”. The first word that came to mind for me was “home”. In less than two weeks, I’ll be at my current care home two years. I remember celebrating the two-year mark in Raalte, almost fully confident that I’d stay there for many more years. In fact, at my care plan review at the end of September (I moved into the care home in Raalte in September too), I said I was 95% sure that I wanted to stay there. “Make it 98%, please,” said my home’s manager. A year later, I had moved to the intensive support home and, as it turned out, the higher-ups in Raalte didn’t want me back.

Another word that came to mind is “hope”. We all could use a little hope, I think. I want to start by saying that, if I celebrate my two-year stay at this home, it doesn’t mean I’ve jinxed (a word I only recently learned of) it and I’ll be voluntarily kicked out of here in less than a year, like in Raalte. I still hope there’s room for improvement in my care and, rather than being shoved around, I’ll finally be able to feel home.

I do admit I have good days. Today, I baked a Biscoff blondie with my staff. That was fun! I just so wish that my life were actually relatively good rather than my having to hope everyday that this day will not suck. Not that a day when I don’t bake sucks, of course. Life is more than Biscoff blondies. But when all I can tell my spouse on the phone that I’ve done today is walk and play dice games, it’s boring. And that’s while my life could be so much less boring if I were able to contribute. And I don’t just mean cooking, baking and crafting. I mean the less interesting tasks of daily life too. I feel accomplished when I’ve helped with some chores around the home. I hope that when, at some point, my new day schedule is created, life’ll be a bit more fulfilling.

Laughing Over Lemons

Posted on by Astrid

Laughing over lemons. That phrase has been on my mind for a few days. It’s a twist on the phrase “When life hands you lemons, make lemonade.” I think sometimes it’s best to laugh at our worst days.

Like, when I had only been in the psychiatric hospital for a day back in 2007, I was telling psych ward jokes. You know, what’s the difference between the patients and the staff on psychiatric units? First, the patients get better and leave. Second, the staff have the keys. And there was another one. Something about not all patients believing they’re God. I think those last two apply to institutions for people with developmental disabilities too. I mean, particularly at the intensive support home (ie. the home for those with severe challenging behavior), my spouse said the only noticeable difference between the residents and staff was the staff carrying a pager to beep for assistance when a resident becomes violent. Other than that, both staff and residents were usually staring blankly at the TV.

We, the residents, were often blamed. Or at least, the other residents (other than me, that is) were. They have no motivation for life and they are too old to teach. Besides, no-one can force them away from the TV because that would be involuntary care. That’s what I was told. Never mind that I’ve witnessed on many occasions staff telling residents that they had gotten enough “attention” for the day because staff had been sitting with them for fifteen minutes with a cup of coffee.

I am often quite cynical in my humor. If only my cynical jokes weren’t actually 99% truthful. And now all I can hope for is that my joke about everything being okay in 2034 (because the world is going to be blasst to hell) isn’t going to turn out 99% truthful too.

I am linking this post up with Friday Writings. It isn’t necessarily a hopeful or positive post. However, I do feel that laughing over the many lemons life hands me and many other people in this world and age, can certainly be helpful.

Of Elements, Songs and World War III

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Esther’s writing prompt this week is “Element(s)”. I was immediately reminded of the song The Elements by Tom Lehrer.

Tom Lehrer, who passed away this summer at the age of 97, was a comedian and singer, though to be honest like most male comedians, he couldn’t actually sing. Then again, neither can I, but I don’t try. I don’t care whether he could sing or not though, as his song lyrics were brilliant. The Elements isn’t nearly his best song.

I love his songs about current events. Though they were written in the 1960s, some still ring true, in a scary kind of way.

I honestly have been feeling more and more unsafe over the past year or so. I mean, Millennials like me were in our teens when the 9/11 terrorist attacks happened and the world (or rather I should say the West) hasn’t been at peace ever since. I mean, the world’s never been at peace, but in 1989, the West at least thought it had won. Not so. Now with Trump in office in the United States, I wonder who “the West” even are anymore. I, being in Europe, feel more and more like it’s not just Russia and China who might cause the next world war, but Alabama might as well.

I feel more and more scared when I use my mantra that everything will be okay in 2034. I know, I started this thing as a satirical take on the book 2034, which is about the next world war. I realize now that the authors of the book were actually quite serious, but a few years ago, I thought I could turn things around by saying everything will be okay. I don’t mean this to be blasphemous, but I honestly got the idea from the Bible. I mean, I remember when I was (pretending to be) a Christian, I at one point wrote that everything will be okay in 2021 and sort of hoped that Christ would return that year. He didn’t, and as a non-believer I doubt He will in 2034.

Of course, I try to hope that there won’t be a World War III in 2034 or ever. But if there will be, I hope whoever presses the button, will remember Tom Lehrer’s survival hymn.

How I’m Feeling (Or Something Like It)

Posted on by Astrid
Daily writing prompt
How are you feeling right now?
View all responses

I’m not sure how I feel right now. It’s past 11PM and I badly want to write, but don’t have the slightest idea what about. That’s probably why I’m turning to the WordPress Daily Prompt, which is quite generic today if you ask me. Or is it? Maybe it’s just that I, being quite intellectually-focused, don’t know how to answer this.

Wait, I was an Enneagram type 4, right? I guess not. I’m perpetually confused as to whether I’m a 4w5 or 5w4. Maybe that means I’m some other type entirely. Or the Enneagram is just pseudoscience (which I know it is but feel in my heart that it’s not).

But I digress. I’ve been feeling all sorts of things today. In the afternoon, I rode the side-by-side bike to the next town to buy some groceries. I also bought a hand mixer and a baking tray, because next week I’m going to bake Biscoff blondies. This was a fun activity, so I felt good. Retail therapy, I guess.

In the evening, I felt overloaded because my spouse was telling me a story on the phone at the same time that a staff entered my room. This had me feeling stressed out for an hour or so.

Then I felt excited again, as I was going to craft a special coffee for my fellow residents and staff. It’s special because it had hazelnut-flavored coffee syrup in it and foaming milk on top. I’m no barista or even close, but I liked the activity. One of my fellow residents, the last time she got my special coffee, was over the moon about the “liquor” in it.

Now it’s 11:30PM and I’m probably supposed to be in bed, but I don’t really feel tired. I think I’m just going to read some more blogs and then go to bed.

Simple Pleasures #SoCS

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today’s prompt for #SoCS is “simple”. When I saw the prompt yesterday, I immediately thought I had to write about simple pleasures. You know, the little things that make life worth living when all else seems rather grim.

I could of course nag on about the cup of green tea. The one I got at 9PM one day over six weeks ago and that, while enjoyable, also triggered a flood of negative emotions because, really, is life all about a cup of tea? That being said, I’ve tried to make it a more regular habit to ask for a cup of tea at around 9PM.

Most of the simple pleasures I can think of right now, involve food, but not all do. Birdsong is also a simple pleasure I enjoy. So was a shower I took on Thursday when I was feeling particularly miserable.

As a multiply-disabled person living in an institution, I sometimes find joy in things that are out of the ordinary for me even though these things are normal for most people in my country and the rest of the developed world. They are, however, luxurious to people in less fortunate parts of the world. I also realize I am privileged to be able to go online when I want, as even in some other developed countries, people in the care system can’t. That doesn’t mean my life is easy. It’s not. I may have it better than people in many parts of the world, but that doesn’t mean my struggle isn’t real.

However, I do try to find positives each day. It sometimes feels like an obligation, because I used to be told all the time that I’m being negative on purpose. However, it does genuinely help me to acknowledge the simple joys each day provides.

Quality of Life #SoCS

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. I haven’t written a blog post in nearly two weeks, since I’ve been struggling quite badly. However, I saw the prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday, which is “starts with Q”. Immediately, the word “quality” and, derived from that, “quality of life” came to mind.

I regularly write about this concept when discussing myself as a former preemie living with multiple disabilities. That’s not what I mean this time though. This time, I mean real, day-to-day quality of life. I’ve seriously been on a quest for a more meaningful life.

You might remember me talking about the cup of green tea I was allowed to have one evening. I said back then that it’s normal to choose when you want tea, so most people will not be appreciative of it. I was. However, as I spiraled further into depression, this cup of tea became the metaphor for how bleak my life is, actually.

It could be a lot worse. It was, back in the mental hospital, where, though I could grab food whenever I wanted (or at least I did), I spent most of my days lying in bed or surfing the Internet. Most of my fellow residents also have even less autonomy than I do. And yes, I know they’re severely intellectually disabled, but quite frankly that’s not an excuse. Just because you’re used to well-intentioned others making every single decision for you (and they are used to it as well!), doesn’t mean that’s how it’s always supposed to be. Or how it should be. Like I was at the time very grateful for the cup of tea at 9PM, that’s not how it always should be. That is, of course it’d be good if I remained grateful for a cup of tea, but in real life, I should be able to make the decision whether I want a cup of tea myself.

Unfortunately, I have a ton of ideas to improve my quality of life and gain more autonomy, but these don’t get to fruition. The reason is in part the fact that an idea has to be put into practice and executive functioning isn’t my best quality. Another reason is resistance from staff, either overt or covert.

I could write a book on all the ways staff have verbally, physically and in other ways hurt me under the guise of being human and having emotions too. Or conversely under the guise of safety for the group or that being the reality of staff-client relationships. But I won’t.

I’ll end by saying that, at least, on Tuesday I had a good day cooking curry for my side of the home. That’s what I mean by day-to-day quality of life: having the ability to prepare my own food, for example, or choosing what I’ll have for dinner. Of course, the other residents didn’t have a say in my choice to make curry, but they did appreciate it. We’re a long way from people in long-term care actually having meaningful lives, but this felt like a tiny contribution.

Romantic?

Posted on by Astrid
Daily writing prompt
What’s your definition of romantic?
View all responses

Well, this is an interesting question. One could define romantic as a form of attraction, ie. being in love or having a crush on someone. In that sense, I would say I rarely if ever experience it. I mean, I had childhood crushes, but the reason I called these crushes was more because that’s what everyone else called them. You know, when a girl and a boy hang out, they are almost automatically assumed to be in love. And even when I found out I liked girls more, I still said I was “in love” because everyone my age had a boyfriend or girlfriend.

When I met my now best friend, both of us probably had similar thoughts of what sharing our life was supposed to mean. We now realize we weren’t looking for a romantic partner but for a best friend. So that’s what we are. We are technically still married, but we aren’t in love. Honestly, never were.

Then, “romantic” can refer to an expression of thinking someone is special. In this sense, I am quite romantic. I am a sucker for hearts even though they make my best friend feel slightly uncomfortable now that we’ve clarified to each other that we aren’t in love. In this sense, the feeling of having a crush on someone, for me, is quite different from feeling that they’re special. I must admit I’m still figuring these things out though.

…Not Life Experience Deductible

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. As I shared before, my birthday is next week. I’ll be 39. This means that next week will mark the start of my 40th year on this planet. It isn’t necessarily something I take too seriously, except that my best friend, who is “only” 36, loves to remind me that I’m the older one of us. Then again, life starts at 40, right?

We were joking about age again this afternoon when my best friend came up with a new mantra for me. I’d have to explain here that, for years when I was in the psych hospital, I had a profile signature at the forum my best friend and I know each other from (and at many other autism and mental health forums). It was: “Time spent in psychiatric institutions is not life experience deductible.” With this mantra, I meant to counter the professionals who told me that proper help and treatment, a long-time place to reside, etc. could wait because I was still young. Yes, seriously.

Now the mantra my friend came up with was: “The first 40 years aren’t life experience deductible.” This is actually the polar opposite of “Life starts at 40”.

While I believe that, indeed, the first (nearly) 40 years of my life matter as much as however long I have left here on Earth, I do believe that it’s never too late to create a brighter future. And that doesn’t have to include huge leaps forward. It can include small sparks of joy. In this sense, nothing I go through or accomplish each day is life experience deductible. Yes, it’s incredibly frustrating that things in the care system progress at such a slow pace, but that doesn’t disqualify the meaning of everyday pleasures.

Written for Fandango’s One Word Challenge for today, which is “mantra”. I love doing these little freewrites.