Abandonment Wounds: What Will Happen If I Can No Longer Mask?

Posted on by Astrid

I’ve been struggling with attachment issues a lot lately. Not related to a specific person this time. I mean, yes, like I said on Wednesday, four of my “favorites” among the staff are either on leave or will be leaving (be it temporarily or permanetly) soon. That’s not the problem, since I’ve learned the hard way to expand my list of “favorites” when necessary. It’s in my best interest too to avoid a situation like the one with my assigned staff in Raalte, who was leaving and left me with just two other trusted staff.

The issue I’ve been dealing with lately, is much more existential: the knowledge that, if I’m truly myself, I’m unacceptable. Not because I’m some kind of criminal. I’m not. Rather, I’m an outcast. And while I won’t be in the prison system for that, being shoved around care home after care home while not having family to advocate for me, will be equally horrid.

I have been struggling with memories of the circumstances surrounding that assigned staff leaving. A few months before she left, I sent her a rather dramatic E-mail about how no-one will be in my life forever. Well, my spouse says we’ll always be in each other’s life, but truthfully we can’t know that. Besides, when we lived together, there were just a little too many situations in which my spouse (understandably) was disappointed in me that are however things I couldn’t help. For clarity’s sake: I don’t blame my spouse, but maybe with my being multiply-disabled, I’m not suited for “traditional” long-term relationships. Ha, now I’m reminded that my spouse often reminds me that I said when we were choosing to be a couple, that I didn’t want a traditional relationship.

Of course, the reason I’m undesirable by society’s standards isn’t my fault. Like, I can’t help being disabled. But just because it isn’t something I choose, doesn’t make it any less real or hurtful. In fact, it hurts more because I can’t choose not to be me.

I mean, I’ve masked more or less successfully for many years. Mostly less successfully, but my parents prevented me from landing in the care system at a much earlier age than I did by claiming the police and other people who thought I was disturbed, were just stupid. They were masters at manipulating the system. I am not.

Back to my assigned staff in Raalte. She was the first to take my wish to leave seriously. I assume she genuinely felt that the intensive support home could better serve me than the care facility, but I also assume she had a team and a manager to deal with and it remains a fact that some of her coworkers couldn’t cope with my behavior. Which was, for the record, much less challenging than it is now.

It genuinely scares me to think of what will happen if (when?) I can no longer mask at all. There was this news feature sometime in 1997 or 1998 about a girl, aged about sixteen, who was too intelligent for intellectual disability services but who still couldn’t cope in adolescent mental health services and was, as a result, restrained long-term. After her family sought media attention, she was transferred to a treatment center for youth with mild intellectual disability and severe challenging behavior. I don’t know what became of her.

Last week, when I had several severe outbursts related to my most recent frustration, I begged my support coordinator to ask the behavior specialist to involve the Center for Consultation and Expertise (CCE) again. I really want to get the ball rolling on getting them involved before it’s too late and I’m being kicked out again, like the last time they were involved in 2018. In this sense, a consultation might help more this time, because at this point, as far as I know, staff aren’t yet so much at their wit’s end that they see the situation as unresolvable. But I’m scared of what will happen if they do get to this point, like apparently some staff in Raalte were.

The Most Important Life Lesson

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. Today Sadje asks us in her Sunday Poser to share life lessons we’ve learned. I was pretty sure I’d done a post on the most important lesson I’d learned in life some years ago, so went to look and indeed, I wrote about this topic in 2018. Wow, how time has flown!

And it doesn’t surprise me that, when I read Sadje’s question, my initial thought was to share the exact same lesson I shared back then: that it’s important to stay true to yourself. Today though, I’m going to make it even bolder: I am the most important person in my life. That sounds selfish, right? But guess what? Each of us is the most important person in our own life. You can’t live for anyone else, by which I mean no-one else can make you happy. No, not even when you think that someone else does; it’s still your understanding of their love or acceptance that makes you happy.

To word it even more bluntly, if everyone thinks of themself first, no-one will be forgotten. This doesn’t mean we need to be going against moral sensibility or harming other people just because we want it. After all, harming others isn’t in our own best interest in the long run either.

By saying that no-one else can make us happy, I also didn’t mean we don’t need connections. However, no-one else can live our life for us.

I also want to share what learning this life lesson has helped me with since 2018. I still struggle with everyday decisions, but I attribute this to the fact that I often get overwhelmed with them.

I am happy to report that, since indeed landing in a less than supportive environment (ie. the intensive support home) in 2022, I was able to stand up for what I needed. I’m now back in quite a supportive place, but I’m glad I’m still able to advocate for myself. This doesn’t mean that the thought that everyone will ultimately abandon me if I’m myself, is gone. It’s worse than ever, in fact. I still need to work on the idea that, even if they do, that doesn’t mean I’m a bad person.

How I Coped With Losing My “Job”

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. This week, one of the prompts for Writer’s Workshop is to write an essay titled “How I coped with losing my job”. I don’t do well writing fictional essays and have never had a “real” job, in the sense of a paid position or even volunteer work. I did, however, once “lose my job”, in that I got told the day center I went to couldn’t keep me there anymore.

This happened sometime in January of 2018 at my first day center with my current care agency. They had had me there for eight months, in two different groups, but when I was struggling to cope at the second group, they could no longer serve me or so they said.

I felt really distressed about this. The most frustrating aspect was the fact that they blamed me for no longer being suited to the center, while in reality, three new clients had been accepted into my group and no additional staff had been hired. I remember the reason they said it was me being the problem, not the new clients, was the fact that I’d been having meltdowns shortly before they arrived. Now I know that any anticipated change will cause me distress and that doesn’t mean I’m just a problem client. However, in hindsight, I’m pretty sure they wanted me gone sooner rather than later all along, for the simple reason that I don’t have an intellectual disability.

Thankfully, I wasn’t told to leave on the spot, but got time to find a new place. I initially had no clue how to, but did remember that, in 2010, I had been helped by the Center for Consultation and Expertise (CCE). I told the staff that I wanted to involve them again.

This was a bit of a hassle, as my community psychiatric nurse from the mental health agency said I’m far too high-functioning for the CCE. I applied nonetheless and got an orientation meeting in May of 2018.

In the end, I didn’t need the CCE for finding a new day center, but the consultation was what led me to accept that living independently with my partner wasn’t working and I needed long-term care.

I did feel intensely frustrated, like I said, at being “fired” from this day center. However, in the end, I don’t blame the staff, who were just powerless in the face of my challenging behavior. I think the manager, who didn’t look beyond my psychiatric diagnoses, is partly responsible. So was the psychologist from the psychiatric hospital, who more or less made the manager accept me on partly false premises.

Dromaai: A Restaurant That Brings Me Nostalgia

Posted on by Astrid

One of today’s prompts for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop is to share about a restaurant that makes you nostalgic. I immediately thought of the restaurant in Nijmegen my spouse and I nicknamed the “dromedary”.

Its real name is Dromaai, which is wordplay on the Dutch word for turnaround. On the menu are various dishes where letters have been switched up. For example, fish stew would be called “stish few”.

I discovered the restaurant while in the psych hospital in the spring of 2008 and ate there with my family a few times. Then, in December of that year, I invited my now spouse there.

My spouse and I would see each other several times a week while I was in the hospital, often around dinnertime, and there wasn’t any food for my spouse in the hospital, of course. As a result, we had to eat out. Dromaai became a regularly-visited restaurant. My favorite dish was marinaded turkey on a skewer. I usually chose pepper sauce with it rather than the recommended BBQ. You could choose between a side dish of rice, baked potatoes or fries. I usually chose fries, but I did like the potatoes too.

In 2011, my spouse convinced me to try to become a vegetarian, so my favorite dish became a vegetable wrap. I gave up the vegetarian lifestyle after only about nine months and came back to my turkey skewer.

We stopped going to Dromaai when I moved to the psych hospital in Wolfheze in 2013. That is, we still went there occasionally. One time, I remember one of the workers – I think he actually was the manager or something, but he also did waiter jobs – asking us whether we’d moved and if so, where. I vaguely replied that we’d moved to the Arnhem area. “Arnhem, blegh,” he replied with a laugh, because as those from the Netherlands will know Arnhem and Nijmegen are rivals.

The last time I went to Dromaai, I went with my sister after our day at Sanadome, a wellness resort in Nijmegen, in 2018. I looked all over the menu, but to my annoyance, they’d done away with the turkey skewer. I ordered mixed grill instead, but didn’t like it nearly as much.

As a side note, don’t ask me how my spouse and I got to nickname Dromaai, “Dromedary”. My spouse has a habit of taking wordplay to the extreme though. I think it’s funny, but I realize it isn’t as I type this down now.

Mama’s Losin’ It

The Best Decision of My Life

Posted on by Astrid

I really want to write, but, as usual when I’m like this, so much is spinning through my mind that I cannot ultimately get anything out of my fingertips. To get myself started, I decided to look at the book Journaling with Lisa Shea and picked one of the journaling prompts on gratitude. It asks us what the best decision of our life was. Was it an easy decision or a hard one? I’m pretty sure I already covered this topic several years ago, but the answer may be different now.

After all, up till quite recently, I would have said the best decision I ever made was to consent to being admitted to the psychiatric hospital in 2007. That, after all, set in motion the wwheels that ultimately got me into the care system. However, looking back, I could just as easily have selected my choice to go to the blindness rehabilitation center in 2005 rather than to university. After all, that was what led me to the training home and to my autism diagnosis.

I honestly don’t want to give the psychiatric hospital people, particularly my last treatment team, the credit they get if I say that getting admitted was my best decision ever. After all, like I have said before, I didn’t make much progress in those 9 1/2 years in the hospital. Worse yet, the only difference between my care arrangement before the hospital and after it, was that my husband was now in my life. My husband deserves the kudos for that, not any mental health professional.

Instead, the best decision I ever made, I made rather offhandly on September 20, 2018. This was the decision to allow my support coordinator to schedule an appointment with her regional care consultant on getting me into long-term care. The appointment itself took place on October 4.

I say I made the decision rather offhandly, in that we were discussingn living options and I eventually said, sort of half-heartedly: “Okay, you can ask your care consultant to come.” In truth, the decision was a really hard one.

Even though I had planned on going into supported housing ever since my initial psych hospital admission in 2007, it felt kind of like I was betraying my husband, my parents, my former treatment team and everyone else by admitting this is what I needed. For this reason, my husband’s first words when I said my support coordinator had scheduled the appt with her care consultant, were very comforting: “You know I support you, right?”

What Day Is It Anyway? (March 24, 2020) #WDIIA

Posted on by Astrid

Okay, so I’m back with another #WDIIA post. As I write this, it’s March 24, 2020, 8:50PM. My paternal grandmother, my last living grandparent, the one who died in 2018, would’ve turned 96 today. It’s weird that I think about that now, as I didn’t call her for her birthday for the last several years of her life. She was profoundly hearing impaired and had severe memory loss. Then again, I could’ve sent cards, but didn’t. I do miss her though. Still, I am thankful that she doesn’t have to suffer through the COVID-19 thing.

I awoke at 8:36 this morning. Had a quick wash, brushed my teeth and got dressed. Had another bowl of yoghurt with crunchy muesli for breakfast. Thank goodness they still had full-fat yoghurt. I normally have fat-free yoghurt, but the unbranded ones are so extremely watery they’re really disgusting.

I went for two walks today, one in the morning and one in the afternoon. Didn’t go for a walk in the evening this time, but did go on the elliptical for twenty minutes. I went on it for twenty minutes yesterday too and only burned 66 calories according to my Fitbit. Today I burned 90. That’s not very good, as a brisk walk burns off more. Still, I’m feeling my legs and back now. Besides, burning calories isn’t the only benefit of exercise. I do really hope that, when I can get weighed in again, I’ll have lost weight. I usually get weighed in at the day center once a month, but not sure that will be happening now.

The week’s groceries arrived today. Tomorrow, we’re going to make toasted ham and cheese sandwiches for lunch. I’m looking forward to that.

Not much else happened today. How has your day been?

2018: The Year in Review

Posted on by Astrid

The year is nearly over. I have been debating whether to post a review of the year for a while, since I didn’t start this blog till late July. As such, most of the people who read it, may not be aware of what’s been going on for the first half of the year and I might need to explain too much. However, I want to do this review for myself if for no-one else. Here goes.

The year started off rather bad, with me having a major meltdown at day activities on January 3. I didn’t know at the time how significant that event would be, but it was the one event that defined me for the rest of the year and probably into 2019.

I looked back at my old blog’s posts from January 2018, and I can’t believe how blissfully ignorant I was. In the second week, I chose “Be” as my word for the year, for I intended 2018 to be a year for rest and staying present. A week later, it was decided that my day activities hours would be cut and I would eventually have to find a new place.

In late January, when I had more meltdowns at day activities, I started thinking of involving the Center for Consultation and Expertise (CCE) on my case. They had been involved with me in 2010 and 2013 previously and I’d hoped they could help me find some perspective. For those who don’t know, the CCE is an agency that helps people who fall through the cracks in the care system due to complex care needs and severe problem behavior. I didn’t really know whether my situation was bad enough, but I was desperate.

I was first told by my community psychiatric nurse, who called the CCE on my behalf and minimized my problems, that I’d have to go to the blindness agency for support. My need for sensory activities, after all, was due to blindness and I couldn’t possibly have severe problem behavior, as that would mean I couldn’t be married or live independently. This assertion caused huge internal turmoil. Some parts of me thought we must be too good for day activities and that’s why we’re being kicked out. After all, aren’t we oh so intelligent? Most of the parts in me felt desperate though and didn’t care about my IQ or our marriage in this sense for that matter.

With the help of my support coordinator, I finally was able to get an orientation meeting with the CCE in May. I apparently expressed my despair well enough that they took me seriously and found a consultant.

In the meantime, my support team and I didn’t sit still. This was why we had already found new day activities by the time we’d start the consultation at the end of July. At the time, I was feeling a bit conflicted about my living situation. My husband was trying to warm me up to the idea of buying a house in the city where he works. I didn’t feel like it, but I pushed those feelings aside. Until late September, that is.

Thankfully, the consultation hadn’t been completely closed by this time. I finally gave in to my feelings and admitted that I want to go into supported housing. I initially felt a lot of shame about this. I didn’t know whether my husband would be supportive and I knew my family wouldn’t be. Particularly when creating my care plan and reading the application for long-term care funding, I felt embarrassed. There is this voice inside my head. It’s my mother telling me, shortly after my admission to the psychiatric hospital in 2007, that I can’t even wipe my butt without a support worker’s assistance. I can, but so what if I can’t?

My husband turned out to support me. The CCE consultant is willing to stay on my case until we’ve finalized the process of getting me long-term care funding. The application was finally mailed on the 20th of this month.

Can I say this year that I fulfilled my word of the year? Not really. However, over the past few months, since deciding to apply for long-term care, I’ve felt a certain sense of calm. It seems as though I hit rock bottom this year and I can only go up now.

Besides the day activities and living situation, other things happened too. My paternal grandma died. This, for whatever reason, helped me find the strength to distance myself a bit from my family of origin. Since no longer expecting them to be genuinely interested in my life, I’ve felt a sense of calm in this respect too.

I’ve also learned to accept mysselves, that is, my alters, as they are. I am still not fully at a point of accepting myself without the need for diagnostic labels, but I am getting close.

With regard to blogging, I’ve improved much in the past year. I’ve been able to keep a pretty regular blog for five months now. I am so glad I started this blog, even though sometimes I feel disappointed in my stats. This blog is where I can be myself.

Lucy At Home UK parenting blogger