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.

Flash Fiction: Pizza for Her Parents?

Posted on by Astrid

The last time ever that Amanda visited her parental home, she didn’t expect it to be the last time. She was merely coming home from college for a night. No-one knew that, when leaving the home the next morning to board the train to her college city, it’d be the last time she’d ever seen this home.

Fifteen years later, after a long journey through the province and the care system, Amanda moved back to the area. She sometimes wondered what had become of her parental home. Her parents had sold it many years ago and she’d herself handed in her key several years before that.

One day, she was talking to a virtual stranger, a temp worker coming to care for her in her new care home, probably just a handful of times. As Amanda told him about where she’d grown up and for a reason she didn’t even know herself mentioned her parental home address, the carer was amazed. “When I worked as a pizza delivery guy, I used to get orders for that house about once a week.” He started telling her stories about the time the residents had complained of a hair in their pizza, a blond hair, even though none of the workers at the pizza place were blond.

Even though Amanda knew that the house wouldn’t look the same at all if she went back, not least because most of the furniture had been either hand-crafted or hand-picked by her father and because the large birch tree in the front yard had been cut down before her parents sold the house, she delighted in hearing the staff’s anecdote. Her parents never ordered food delivery. The world can be a small place and yet a town can feel so big…

This piece was inspired by Fandango’s Story Starter #207. I couldn’t fit in the exact fragment. The piece is mostly autobiographical, including the tale about the temp worker who used to be a pizza delivery guy. I can’t remember whether his anecdote about the blond hair was actually about my parental home’s new residents.

Like a Rolling Stone… #SoCS

Posted on by Astrid

Today’s prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “favorite place”. I am not a fan of traveling, so I have absolutely no idea what my favorite place to go on vacation would be. I did go on a postponed honeymoon in 2012 to the Swiss town of Zug and it was beautiful. That is, walking through the mountains was quite an experience. The town itself was full of top-notch expensive cars.

We haven’t been on vacation since 2014 and, though my best friend and I (my best friend currently still being my spouse, for those who don’t know) have discussed vacation plans, neither of us is keen on going anywhere, honestly.

I would probably be considered a homebody. Except, what is my home? My staff often refer to the care home as “home” when talking to me, but it still feels off. And though I have no plans of traveling to any exotic locations anytime soon (or ever, considering most truly exotic locations are not easy to get to for someone who hates flying), I wouldn’t consider my room in the care home to be anything close to a favorite place. Or maybe it’s my least hated place out of all. After all, I’ve never truly felt home anywhere. Not with my parents, not in independent living or with my spouse nor in any of the places in the care system I’ve resided in.

I guess I’m like a rolling stone. After all, I’ve never truly connected to any particular place. This feels sad.

Flash Fiction: Home Is Where the Train Ride Ends

Posted on by Astrid

She’s riding the train, listening to children’s songs on her headphones. As the music about unicorns and fairies plays in her ears, she contemplates where this journey is going.

As young as she is, she’s already been in half a dozen different foster families since being abandoned by her drug addict Mom when she was just a baby. The last placement was the longest so far. Her foster carer was loving, but she couldn’t keep her long-term.

As the train moves on, the girl stares into the future, wondering whether this new chapter in her life that she’s headed towards, will finally be a longer one. Will she finally be able to come home this Christmas? She hopes, prays and has everything crossed that home is where the train ride ends.

What Do You See? Prompt #268

This piece was inspired by Sadje’s #WDYS. I initially couldn’t seem to be able to link to the image, but I think I figured it out.

Crafting Lately (December 16, 2024)

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. I finally feel as though I’m actually adjusting to life in this care home and feeling like this could maybe, hopefully be my home for a long time. This is a huge positive, as I’ve never felt this way in any place before except maybe for the care facility in Raalte in late 2021. As most of you know, that didn’t last. Please keep your fingers crossed that this feeling of finally belonging won’t be the beginning of the end this time around.

I had a good week last week. I am pretty much over whatever I was sick with all of the week before, probably a mild case of COVID. Since I no longer need to deal with unfamiliar temp workers and most of my staff last week know how to help me with my crafting, I’ve been able to be pretty creative.

I think I mentioned a few weeks ago that I’d been trying to craft a polymer clay unicorn for a new staff who’s as much into unicorns as I am. Unfortunately, one of the wings fell during the curing process and it hung in such a position that I could neither pull it off and craft a new one, nor be content with how it looked.

About a week ago, I was thankfully able to create a new unicorn. No wings this time, but I did use a tiny (5mm) heart cutter to create a little symbol for on the unicorn’s side.

This is my default unicorn in a sitting position. Its body and head are done in Premo white, while its mane, tail, ears and horn are done in Fimo Effect rose quartz. The tiny heart on its side is done in Premo 18k gold.

Then, I created a Christmas tree. This one I did by rolling out a snake then rolling it up into a coil that decreases in size as it goes up, thereby creating the tree effect. I used Fimo leaf green for the tree and Cernit Christmas red and Fimo Effect glitter gold for the baubles. I then added a spark in Fimo Effect glitter gold to the top.

In hindsight, I probably should’ve used Premo forest green and Premo 18k gold rather than the Fimo colors. However, I haven’t opened my Premo forest green yet, because we’re out of labeling tape and hence I cannot yet label the Ziploc bag I’ll put it into once opened. I also want to use an actual star for the top next time, but my star-shaped cutter hadn’t arrived yet.

Lastly, I decided to challenge myself with the unicorn design and create a unicorn-in-a-mug. That is, I’m lazy, so of course there’s no actual unicorn body hiding in that mug. I used Premo white for the mug and Cernit violet for the unicorn head. For the mane and horn, I used Fimo Effect metallic silver.

Originally, my staff had taken the photo of the unicorn from a slight angle, so the mug wasn’t fully visible and the thing looked like a unicorn in a white gown. I decided to ask another staff to take a new picture today.

I really loved being able to craft again. I’m so happy my creative juices are flowing.

Exploring “Safe Ground” in a Less Than Optimal Care System

Posted on by Astrid

I’ve been exploring the concept of “safe ground”. This is a buzzword in the long-term care sector, particularly in the care of people with severe challenging behavior. It is used to describe the idea that people are unconditionally accepted in their care homes and will not be kicked out for their behavior.

I’ve been feeling drawn to this idea, because I’ve been kicked out of services, or out of the particular service I used, for my behavior several times.

One video I watched on the topic of “safe ground” explored a care home for the most severely challenging individuals. As in, there are only 24 places in the entire country. I don’t know why I was drawn to this video, because I’m not nearly the most challenging resident on grounds here, let alone among the top 24 of the country. In fact, I would say that at least one of my fellow residents here at my home is more challenging than me.

There are two concepts to unpack here, which may or may not be related. The first is, why do I identify so strongly with the most difficult of clients in the care system when I’m probably somewhere in the middle? The second is, is “safe ground” only the idea that people won’t be kicked out for their behavior, or is it more generally speaking unconditional acceptance of clients with their unique needs?

I’ll explore the second concept now. I think “safe ground” means more than just not kicking out clients, and in this respect, it’s relevant to me. I think it means (or should mean) seeing the unmet needs behind challenging behavior. Seeing the person rather than the client. I still think that, even if I don’t end up being kicked out of here for my behavior, there’s still a world to win here. I am hopeful that, when the things we discussed a few weeks ago at the meeting between my support coordinator, behavior specialist and me, will be implemented, we’ll get close.

That being said, it’s still 2024 and this means no optimal care for anyone. I think one of the things I wish people would admit is that they’re having to deal with a strained system rather than blaming the client for their challenging behavior.

I ran into this yesterday, because there’s yet another change in staff hours, and yet the other support coordinator claimed everyone gets the attention they need. No, that’s not true, or it depends on how you define “need”. After all, most of us do mostly get our needs for physical care met, by which I mean we get dressed, showered and have something to eat. Most of us however are still routinely left to fend for ourselves when we’re struggling emotionally. I and the more challenging fellow client are the lucky exceptions to this rule. Even so, I would not call my care optimal. That isn’t going to happen and that’s sort of okay, but it makes a massive difference whether staff blame me or they blame the system. In other words, are we talking about things we as clients shouldn’t expect or things they cannot offer? The end result is the same, in that we have unmet care needs, but the latter is a lot more empathetic towards us.

Gratitude: Big Things I Am Grateful For Right Now #AtoZChallenge

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone and welcome to my letter G post in the #AtoZChallenge. Today, I want to share what I’m grateful for. Specifically, I want to share the bigger, more important things in life I’m grateful for right now. Here goes.

First is my relative health. I am at a healthy weight, am able to walk about 5km at a time on good days and generally sleep about eight hours a night. I haven’t felt truly well physically in, well, forever, but I do feel okay.

Next up is food. I don’t have to go hungry. In fact, even though the meal delivery service meals are yucky most of the time, my breakfasts and lunches are good. And the meal delivery service meals are okay in terms of nutritional requirements. Moreover, when I really can’t stand the food we get here, I can afford to buy myself something else.

Finances are up next. When answering some questions for a parody voting guide back in the fall, one of them was whether you have a good income. Even though I’m on benefits, I answered “Yes”. I don’t have to worry about money generally.

Next is the fact that I have a roof over my head. Two, in fact, if counting my and my spouse’s house in Lobith.

Then, of course, I need to mention my spouse. Our relationship has survived many hurdles, so I’m pretty sure we’ll always be soulmates.

With my spouse come my in-laws. I am so lucky to have them! My mother-in-law is my informal representative and my family contact for the care home.

These are just a few of the things I’m grateful for. I could go on to mention the fact that I have a nice bed to sleep in, technology that allows me to communicate with the world and spend my leisure time, and so on and so forth. But instead, I’ll leave you with just this: right now, I’m grateful to be alive.

My Dream Room

Posted on by Astrid
Daily writing prompt
Write about your dream home.
View all responses

When I saw this prompt, I was pretty sure I had written a zillion posts answering this very same question on here already, but when I did a quick search on my blog, I found just one: a post I wrote in 2021. This was long before I decided to move out of Raalte and then move out of the intensive support home again. Then again, neither of those moves had to do with the interior of the homes I resided in.

In fact, my room in Raalte was the best room I’ve had in a care facility so far, except for maybe my apartment in the independence training home. My current room, though not bad, is one of the worse ones in terms of its set-up. For one thing, it’s the very first room from the living room. This has its positives, but a huge negative is the fact that the living room television is literally set against my room’s wall. I’m not complaining – when I came into care, I never sought a dream home. I sought reasonably good care.

Now, to actually get to the point, I’m going to share some things my dream home would have.

First, it’d not be large. It’d not be a home at all, really. More like a studio. After all, I already occasionally got lost in my apartment in the intensive support home. I’d like a room similar to the one I had in Raalte, really, maybe slightly larger. It’d have its own bathroom and kitchen, of course, like I had in Raalte too. It would, unlike my room in Raalte, be on the ground floor and have a door that would lead to a patio where I could sit outside on warm days.

The bathroom would be luxurious, with its own bathtub for me to relax in. The kitchen would have all the things I need to cook a simple meal with assistance, like a microwave oven, fridge, etc.

Lastly, there’d be an armchair for me to relax in. Then there’d be all my regular furniture, such as my desk, craft table, cabinet and bed. Now that I think of it, I wouldn’t want a sensory waterbed, as then the room would be either too crowded or too large for me to navigate. I’d maybe like an additional sensory room. Not yet sure of that one.

I would, of course, decorate my room/apartment/whatever. I’d have my walls painted the same pink color I currently have on my wall here at the care home. My spouse reminded me that I had originally wanted my wall here to be painted lilac. I replied that I’d already written in this post that I’d go with pink, so pink it will be. I would add colorful, handmade wall art. In fact, this might become a reality here in my current room someday in the not too distant future, as one of my staff helped my fellow residents create wall art with colorful pieces of felt and I’m pretty sure with her help I could do a similar work.

Sounds of the Intensive Support Home

Posted on by Astrid

Hi everyone. This week, one of Mama Kat’s writing prompts is to listen to the sounds in your house for five or ten minutes and let them inspire a blog post. I honestly don’t need to do this right now – I have my AirPods in my ears and their noise canceling is pretty good. Instead, since most sounds here are the same most days, I’ll write about the sounds I usually hear.

There’s this fan in my room. I have no idea what it does, but when they test the smoke alarm or when the smoke alarm goes off for another reason, it makes a deafening noise. Even when the smoke alarm doesn’t go off, the noise is a constant hum. When I came to look around here to see if I might want to live here, I thought I’d get used to it and, indeed, this is the least annoying of the daily noises, because it’s constant and monotonous.

Today, like most days, the resident who has his room next to mine was screaming and kicking his door non-stop for most of the day too. This is an intensely triggering sound, even though when the resident is this irritable he usually gets locked into his room. In fact, it triggers me, not just because I’m scared of his aggression, but also because I feel pity for him being locked into his room.

Then when I’m really lucky (not!), the resident two doors away from him has an outburst too and is being locked into her room as well. I am lucky (although truthfully I shouldn’t have to say that) that the threat of locking me up has only been used once. And I am really thankful the behavior specialist hasn’t approved locking me up or that threat might’ve been followed through on.

Then, if my window is open, or sometimes even when it’s not, I can usually hear the music the resident two doors from me on the other side listens to. He has been listening to St. Nicholas music lately, even though that celebration isn’t until December 5.

Then there are the various hallway noises. Sometimes I can hear another resident laughing or grumbling. At other times, I hear the staff fooling around. I can also hear one resident’s pet parakeet if it’s really quiet otherwise. That is a sound I cherish.

As you can tell, I mostly don’t like the sounds I hear here. Then again, I don’t like most of the things about the intensive support care home (my current care home). I hope at least some things will be better once I move to my new home this coming Monday.

Mama’s Losin’ It

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.