I Don’t Owe Anyone a Grateful Heart

Posted on by Astrid

Hi all. Today’s prompt for Reena’s Xploration Challenge is quite fitting. Reena asks us to ponder the paradox of gratitude and resistance.

Sometimes, by being grateful, we can bring about change. I am reminded of a story in one of the Chicken Soup for the Soul books in which nurses on one floor were irritated with another floor’s nurses for their constant negativity. Instead of fueling the conflict by becoming negative themselves, the nurses wrote a lengthy gratitude letter to their colleagues. I am not sure whether this was exactly what the story was about, but this was at least the message I took from it. The fact that the one group of nurses focused on the positive rather than giving in to the other group’s toxicity, turned the situation around for the better.

At other times though, particularly when there’s a power difference between two people or groups of people, gratitude becomes passive resignation. In this case, while it can be helpful in the short term to the oppressed person to keep a positive outlook, if the oppressor takes gratitude as acceptance, in the long run nothing will change.

I will give an example from my own life. Regular readers of my blog know that I’ve been accused of having a negative attitude by many people in positions of power, such as my care staff and treatment providers in various care settings. An example is being told I ought to be happy that anybody wants to work here at all. Well, no. While it’d be easier for me in the short term if I could just accept the umpteenth random stranger for my one-on-one care, in the long run it’d mean I’d always get assigned the random temp worker because regular staff would rather support the others and chill out with other regular staff while they can. Besides, even if it’d cost me less effort to resign than it costs me to rebel, I don’t owe my staff a positive attitude. If there’s anyone for whose sake I should have a grateful attitude, it’s myself.

It doesn’t mean I don’t struggle with this whole idea. I feel intense guilt whenever a staff throws some variation of “be happy anyone wants to work here” at me. I am also constantly reminded in my head of my assigned staff at the intensive support home, who was disappointed in me for never having a perfect day even when they’d followed my day schedule completely and had always assigned me regular staff. Which, for the record, never happened.

I, for clarity’s sake, don’t think violent resistance is the answer. When I have a meltdown over some rule I disagree with, being aggressive will always end in me being restrained. However, there’s a whole world between aggression and passivity. And sometimes, unfortunately, the people in positions of power are so caught up in their reality of being the ones to decide, that they (either willfully or not) ignore my less obvious attempts at resistance.

For example, last week I was trying to resist the “one chance” rule about orienting new staff. I tried going along with what the staff wanted, but this only led to further abuses of the rule. I tried talking sense into the staff, but this didn’t work either. Finally, on Saturday, I had the most massive meltdown. I am not proud of my behavior at all. In fact, I really wish I could’ve solved the issue without being aggressive, if for no other reason, then because the staff are far stronger than me and I ended up being restrained. In the end, I thankfully finally got a meeting with the behavior specialist on Monday and the rule got ditched. Now all I can hope for is that my main message, that I have to consent to every individual rule or agreement affecting me unless the behavior specialist uses the Care and Force Act, got through to everyone.

What Will I Leave Behind?

Posted on by Astrid

If
Or should I say “when”
I move to the new care home,
What will I leave behind?

I’ve been pondering my legacy should I leave for the prospective new care home in less than two weeks. I’ve been thinking of gifting every staff member and a few of the residents who I’m close to and who will remember, something out of my collection of handcrafted sculptures and jewelry. The polymer clay dolphin will go to the one resident in my home I can talk with, because he always carries a stuffed dolphin with him. He may or may not fully understand what it means that I’ll leave (since I’m not sure he’s ever witnessed a fellow client move out), and in any case it’ll likely make him sad. I’ve already decided to appease him with French fries the weekend before the planned moving date. This man has his 50th birthday next year, and I’ve already told several staff I’m going to come back to celebrate it with him.

One of my regular one-on-one staff is getting a matching blue bracelet and necklace that she’s told me countless times would complete a great beach outfit. I had thought of giving it to her for her 50th birthday last March, but decided against that eventually.

Then, besides the physical gifts I’ll leave behind, there’s of course the memories. I wonder sometimes whether some clients will secretly be glad that I’ll have left, as my challenging behavior could come across quite threatening to them. I wonder whether the staff will be happy I’m gone, as then they can house a client with severe/profound intellectual disability here. Then again, we still have another empty room now too.

In all honesty, I have no idea what people will think of me if I do move. Is out of sight, actually out of mind? With my psych hospital staff, it pretty much was, as they didn’t even say goodbye when I was discharged. Then again, this staff, particularly those I’ve known from the beginning, are different. At least I hope so.

This post was written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge. It is a one-word prompt this week: “legacy”.

Rebirth

Posted on by Astrid

I remember reading a story some years ago in the book Preemie Voices by Saroj Saigal. This is a collection of autobiographical letters from people who were once premature babies in the university hospital NICU Saigal worked for. I, like the contributors, was a preemie.

In this particular story, the author shared how she felt she has three birthdays: one, her actual birthday, the second, her original due date, and the third, the day of her rebirth. In this author’s case, her rebirth meant being diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome (her choice of words).

I haven’t experienced one such pivotal moment in my life. I mean, I too could choose the day I was diagnosed as autistic (March 16, 2007). Then again, my diagnosis has been removed and reaffirmed so many times that I could just as easily choose the last time I was diagnosed (May 1, 2017). Besides, self-diagnosis is valid too.

I could choose the day I was given long-term care funding (June 4, 2019). Maybe that is the most pivotal moment in my life, but it didn’t exactly mean I was reborn.

I could, of course, choose the day I became a Christ follower (December 7, 2020). Many people in the Evangelical Christian community say they are Born Again and indeed, rebirth in Christ is a common Biblical concept. However, I am more of the opinion that, as Christians, we are on a continuous path towards God. I believe that, each time I consciously pick up my Bible, or the cross my husband gifted me and which I use for prayer, or each time a message from God truly enters me, I am transformed a little bit. I don’t believe that I will be made fully new until the day of Jesus’ return.

All that being said, I do believe I am not the exact same I was a year ago. I am not even the same I was yesterday. Or when I started writing this post. In my view, every single moment is an opportunity for rebirth. Every second we are given is another second chance.

This post was written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge, for which the prompt this week is a theme: rebirth.

Poem: Take Shelter

Posted on by Astrid

It’s safe here,
guarded.
You can cuddle up.

It’s cozy here,
comfortable.
You can be secure.

Nightie-night.
Close your eyes.
You can rest now.

I hope you sleep well,
taking shelter
in the abyss.

This poem was inspired by one of the prompts in Reena’s Xploration Challenge #226. This week, Reena gives us a series of book title suggestions as inspirations for our post. I decided to use the first one as inspiration for this poem. I am also joining dVerse’s OLN, as well as Friday Writings #22. I didn’t quite understand the optional prompt for this week and the part about reusing words to craft a piece that’s of higher quality than the original, feels a bit, well, paradoxical to me. After all, I’m pretty sure I screwed up the original intent of that book title generator quite badly with this poem, but oh well.

Dissociative Identity

Posted on by Astrid

The person in the mirror is not me. The person who carries this body’s name, doesn’t really exist as its own identity. We, as in, me and about 40 other insiders (also known as alters, parts or headmates depending on your perspective), share the body. We each have our own names; none of us claim the body’s given name, even though we’ve never felt comfortable claiming a collective name for ourselves other than Astridetal. We all have our own ages and more or less age-appropriate abilities too.

This evening, I was talking with our assigned staff after another small crisis in which one of the more emotionally immature insiders came forward. I was talking about the fact that we switch between alters more than I’d like to admit on a daily basis. I mean, Annemiek is our crafty insider. When we do polymer clay or jewelry-making, she’s out in the body. She, however, can see in the inner world, even though the body is completely blind. So when she gets frustrated with the intricate aspects of crafting, she shoves someone else forward.

Deborah was out this evening. She is 22-years-old, but very emotionally immature and very mistrusting of others. She is one of the ones claiming to need even more one-on-one support than we already get.

Our staff knows about our existence, but she didn’t know how we juggle the frequent switches on a daily basis. Some of these switches are not as overt as Deborah’s coming forward this evening. For example, when Annemiek is crafting and everything goes to plan, she can be pretty well-collected.

At one point, the staff suggested we create a list of insiders. We used to have one here on the blog, but deleted it as this blog evolved from a mental health blog to a more eclectic blog. Sadly, it turned out I hadn’t saved the file anywhere, but I had created a list some nine years ago for a former therapist. That one was quite eye-opening, as not only have a lot of insiders emerged since then, but some old ones have changed roles. It was very interesting looking at and updating the list.

Sometimes, it hurts that I’ve lived with these strangers for so long. I know for certain that some of us emerged as early as 2001. That’s twenty years ago. Even so, I suspect some of us have been inside this body for far longer, as is commonly the case with people with dissociative identity disorder (a diagnosis we do not currently have, by the way, but used to). I cannot at least remember a time without alters.

This post was written for Reena’s Xploration Challenge #197.