Beware the Walking Wounded

It's the vulnerability of the wounded soul that is attractive. The hint that we can help and will reap the reward of this fantastic individual's greatness that is, we are told, momentairily overshadowed by a deep unhealed rend. For in every other way they are okay--maybe even fantastic. They are charming, beautiful, intelligent and a whole host of outstanding qualities that make the wound seem out of place.

We learn to love the person around the wound. Sometimes it is as though they are whole, and those are wonderful moments. Moments that keep us going for days, months, years, decades to come. Moments recalled as we sit dumbfounded in pain. How could someone who loves us so much hurt us so badly? So intentionally? So maliciously?

"What did I do?" becomes the question. Surely we must have caused this, inadvertantly salted the wound. And they are quick to agree, "It's not me, it's you", sometimes said so smoothly we hardly notice the prick. We walk upon eggshells, we cater, we go above, we go beyond, we get angry, and sometimes we go mad. Crazy. Trying to reignite the warmth of the lover, for the cold and barren place within their wound is such that most of us have never experienced.

There is a vampire like quality to this love. They are cold. We are warm. They draw the life out of us and into themselves. We emerge anemic, disoriented, harmed. They are energized, full of vitality (our vitality). Temporairily. For it is not theirs to keep, only consume. And that is how they survive.

When this person wants you, you are both prey and muse. A symbol of what they want and want to be, elevated above all others. But you are never "you". They have an infantile view of loved ones as extensions of themselves and they react to your departure as a betrayal.

Sometimes it takes a while to understand the dynamic. Our soul was not meant to sustain two. And the wound that they alternately hide and flaunt is not a wound, but a void. Like a black hole, it draws into itself and obliterates what it consumes. To feed it is to make it hungrier. To feed it is to waste the precious gift of our own soul.

Once you have transfused with this person a trace of them stays with you forever--To your benefit, because the memory will act as your alarm system. You will feel it in your gut, perhaps taste it as bile in your mouth. They will see the door of opportunity shut and move on as if you suddenly blended completely into the landscape. Neutrality is repellant.

Because what you know is that wounds don't heal from the outside in but from the inside out. And no amount of love, sex, money, religion, or adulation packed into that wound will ever do--such things will only become contaminated by the festering underneath. To heal a physical wound, nurture the body. To heal a psychological wound, nurture the soul. Take it into you, chew it, process it, let it become a part of you and rebuke the infection. Go forth whole.

originally written Wednesday, July 1, 2009 at 10:21pm

Parenting, Puberty, and the Autism Spectrum

My precious, precocious, oldest daughter has a diagnosis of PDD-NOS, Pervasive Developmental Disorder Not Otherwise Specified. "The pervasive developmental disorders, or autism spectrum disorders, range from a severe form, called autistic disorder, to a milder form, Asperger syndrome. If a child has symptoms of either of these disorders, but does not meet the specific criteria for either, the diagnosis is called pervasive developmental disorder not otherwise specified (PDD-NOS)." Which, diagnostically, trumps her ADHD diagnosis although the two conditions can co-exist.

Just to look at her you'd not expect much different from your typical preteen. Her IQ is a little above average and she makes good grades in school. She's friendly and polite. She is healthy. She has very few "glaring" symptoms. Rather she has a range of symptoms that, depending how stressed she is, present as behavior that is quirky, odd, immature, or uncooperative. I do not mind my child being quirky. That runs in the family. The challenge for me is to keep in mind that she isn't "just" odd, immature, or uncooperative--important to remember especially when she's driving me nuts. She percieves the world a little differently. Traditional guidance/discipline (such as the universal "parental glare of disapproval") often doesn't have the desired result.
At age 11 1/2, she is very tall and clearly entering puberty with all of the usual hormonal repercussions. I had allowed myself to put the PDD-NOS on the back burner. With a high conflict divorce there was always some fire to put out in therapy. Plus there has been a social skills ebb and flow; she will be noticeably behind peers, then the gap will almost close to within normal range (as it did for most of 5th grade). A few months ago my daughter expressed her fears of managing socially in middle school--concerns echoed by her therapist--and PDD-NOS was back on the radar. Social issues are a hallmark of this disorder, as if middle school wasn't already social torture. And I realized we had been cruising along on my understanding of autism in young children. Adolescence is a different racket. And I have some homework to do.


One of the BEST information sites for Autism Spectrum disorders that I have found is from the National Institute of Mental Health. Click here to view.

A Weekend With Dad

This past weekend Neat Guy and I traveled to IL to see my father. The guys wanted to meet each other. When your father is 82 and having memory issues you feel a sense of urgency about these things. Dad recieved a provisional diagnosis of Vascular Dementia last month. At the time of diagnosis he was in pretty bad shape. Now he's been on medications for about a month and has stabilized...fairly well...Well enough to refuse to attend the neurology and psychiatry appointments his PCP arranged. "I worked in neurology for 5 years!" bellows my father, a retired neuropsychologist/farmer. "What are they going to tell me about myself that I don't already know? And they want money up front!"
Dad and Neat Guy hit it off. We talked and laughed for the entire 3 days. Neat Guy enjoyed the fatherly Q&A thus earning himself the honor of being the only man my sister or I have dated that my father has actually liked.
The first day we went to the family farm. Dad tinkered with his riding lawn mower, then used the wiley old farmer tactic of asking Neat Guy to test it out. Next thing I knew my boyfriend had mowed the entire property and Dad was grinning from ear to ear. We ate at Dairy Queen every day. DQ is Dad's favorite restaruant, perhaps because he is diabetic. One day he ate 2 large Blizzards and an ice cream cone. Another day Dad shuffled to the Walmart checkout with his prescriptions and beer. He swore it was non-alcoholic. It wasn't. He attempted to look surprised, then elected to make the best of things and enjoy a couple anyway. Damn the Rx warning labels! This is classic Dad. And this is why I fondly refer to him as "the Geriatric Delinquent".
Aphasia was his most obvious symptom. Second to that was apathy. He said several times he has "no ambition". He struggles to recall how to operate convenience machines: his computer, the tv remotes, the air conditioning thermostat. He forgot I was there last month. He doesn't feel safe behind the wheel of a car. He feels physically weak. But he answers phone calls with his characteristic deep "HELLO!!". And he still tells stories that have me laughing until I can barely breathe. He remembers back country roads spanning multiple counties. He worries about his farm cat. He bitches about my habit of placing a hand inside the steering wheel to make turns. He hangs his laundry out to dry because he likes the smell of the sun in his clothes. With a contemplative look and a wave of his hand he says, "As long as I can look around me and see beautiful things in nature, people enjoying themselves, I'm okay. I want to be here."

Falling in Love With A Neat Guy

WARNING: I'm going to gush a little.

A Dozen Reasons Why I'm Head Over Heels for Neat Guy:
1. We're friends. He is intelligent, humble, funny, genuine, and respectful. I like him and I like sharing him. Seeing how much other people like him too will never get old.
2. We have great communication. We talk. Deep stuff, childhoods, current events, parenting, work, Lady Gaga...and that was just at breakfast one morning.
3. Neat Guy has an amazing sense of humor: Keen observation skills, a knack for comedic interpretation, and talent for honing in on absurdities and nuance.
4. We smile when we kiss. Kissing a wonderful person who you adore is happy business. And, he's a really terrific kisser.
5. His love is cozy, happy, gentle, protective, exciting, fun, and totally legit. Like skinny dipping in your own pool. With love like that the rest of the world doesn't seem as harsh.
6. He's wise. Intelligence paired with common sense and insight.  That's up a notch from smart. He attributes his wisdom to great parents.
7. He has really neat kids. His kids are "good people".
8. He is inventive, creative, and resourceful. I call him the Lawn McGyver: Waste not want not...he uses practical application to make outdoor life more comfortable and entertaining.
9. He's good with money. He has a fabulous budget that he shared with me. I admire it as a thing of beauty, with awe and lack of comprehension. Much the same way I looked at high school trigonometry before I withdrew and switched to a sculpture class.
10. He treats people with kindness, consideration, and patience. That's just how he is.
11. He has the manly ability to fix things and use tools. He fixed my bicycle, the AC in his car, my laptop...and he digs great holes for trees too.
12. He's humble. So he'll get all squirmy about this list.

ADD, Part 1

ADD: Attention Deficit Disorder
Code Word: SQUIRREL!

At age 7 my oldest daughter lit up an qEEG brainscan and was dubbed the "posterchild" for a female with ADHD. She gets it honest. Since childhood I've been empathic, creative, anxious, and prone to getting lost in thought. Both parents share a lot of these traits beginning in their own childhoods. In our family, ADD/ADHD traits are "normal". We have a lot of fun with it, actually.

ADDer's of my generation grew up with report cards that said things like:

• Does Not Pay Attention in Class
• Disruptive in Class
• Does Not Turn In Assignments on Time
• Talks Too Much
• Does Not Read Directions
• Not Working Up to Potential
• Will Not Sit Still

The traditional classroom is not ADD/ADHD friendly.

At this time ADD has 3 classifications: Primarily Inattentive, Hyperactive/Impulsive, and Mixed. From what is understood now, it is genetic and there is a lot of overlap with symptoms on the Autism Spectrum and Anxiety Disorders. My diagnosis is Primarily Inattentive type (and paired with an above average IQ, which masks some symptoms and amplifies others).

First off, "Primarily Inattentive" is a misnomer. The issue is actually noticing everything. All at once. I call it "buckshot thinking". Picture the path of a regular bullet: straight, one hole in the target. Picture buckshot: straightish, yet resulting in multiple holes, a "spray" in the target.  It's not so much an issue of "paying attention" as it is a struggle to focus attention on one thing. And what that one thing ought to be. Following are some pros and cons of Primarily Inattentive type.

The Pros:

• Out of the Box Thinking: There's a saying: "When you hear hoof beats, think horses." (Obviously an American saying vs. an African one-lol-Squirrel!) Faced with a dilemma the ADD brain immediately thinks: "any hoofed animal". Then it goes to weeding them out through abstract deductive reasoning.
• Automatically seeing the "big picture". Literally. A lot of ADD "thinking" can best be described as impressions derived from micro processing vs. intentional thought.
• Creativity: artistic, dramatic, you name it
• Original ideas or solutions
• Curiosity: Finding nuances to explore
• Hyper focusing: the awesome power of "the zone".
• Empathy

The Cons:

• Linear thought is often painful. Excruciating. Frustrating. Organizing is highly challenging and takes a lot of concentration and persistence. It wears us out.
• Ditto for paperwork. Especially that with multiple steps.
• Multiple steps, period. Kids with ADD often struggle more once they begin changing classes in school and do better on a block schedule or in college where there are fewer classes at a time.
• Noticing everything can be overwhelming. Hence the overlap with anxiety issues.
• Out of sight, out of mind. What progress report? Car keys? Homework? Bills? Huh? (I create paper stacks with the theory of "If I can see it I will be more likely to do it".  Do NOT touch my paper stacks. I will have a panic attack.)
• A tendency to start several things at once, resulting in multiple half finished projects (i.e. more to notice and be overwhelmed about) OR...
• Procrastinating/inertia triggered by anxiety.
• Tendency to get lost in thought, i.e. "daydreaming"
• Trouble delegating. If prioritizing for oneself is a challenge imagine the added step of prioritizing for someone else.
• Shame.

Recently a client in group therapy said, "People outgrow ADD, right?". Uh, no. Ty Pennington hawking Adderall? Seen that? Course I did not say this in group. The appropriate answer is, "No. We just manage it better." Some essentials to managing ADD/ADHD: self acceptance, finding a profession that utilizes your strengths and minimally engages your weaknesses, good support, organizational tools, structure, and a sense of humor.

Long Goodbyes

Dad and I have said many goodbyes, having lived in separate states for 31 years. We liked to keep them short. It hurt less that way. Tonight I am sitting on the sofa at my father's home, with my laptop on a TV tray, keeping vigil. Across from me is the most brilliant, complex, and fortunate man I've ever met. My father. Five minutes ago he did not know where he was or why friends weren't coming to get him. Now he is asleep sitting in his chair. My daughters and I had planned an end of school visit. The day we were to arrive Dad went into the hospital suffering from vivid hallucinations.
He needed to be on a geriatric/psychiatric unit for observation. Professionally, I knew that was the absolute best option. The doctor agreed. All but one family member agreed. My father refused. He is a neuropsychologist who, at 82, remembers some very horrible things about 1960's psych wards. He obtained his postdoctorate after surviving a major traumatic brain injury from a motor vehicle accident. The recovery was horrendous. He hates hospitals. He was furious with me for suggesting he go.
The doctor discharged him with instructions that my father not be alone until his follow up appointment. My father is very private and introverted, yet charming and social. His idea of "a visit" is that my girls and I come and go so he gets his alone time. In fact, Dad and I have pretty much survived this way for years. We give each other a lot of space and have each other's back when the chips are down.
Dad is struggling to accept the gravity of this situation. Intellectually he knows far more than I do about what is happening to him and what to expect. It's his greatest fear. Several years ago he supported his mother through dementia, so he's experienced my side of it too. For several days he was in denial, short tempered about being watched. This morning at his follow up visit the doctor reiterated that my father needs supervision, especially at night when symptoms worsen. He also told him not to drive. And that he wants Dad to see a neurologist and psychiatrist.
On the way home Dad became agitated about being "babysat". Finally I just looked at him and said, "Dad, there's nothing good about this. It sucks. It sucks that you are hallucinating. It sucks that your balance is off. It sucks that you are on so many meds. We just have to get through it." His response was to fall asleep. Or maybe he was just thinking. Either way, he became quiet and calmer. Later he stated this had "been a long time coming".
We--Dad, me, my sister, his grand kids, his friends--will whether this long goodbye.

Meaning Amongst Ashes

Somewhere along the way I became fond of the idea that life eventually slides into place. That at various points it might jolt us, and we regroup, but that there are periods of peaceful existence. Times where the mechanics of life are clicking along so smoothly that higher thought is easily accessible and flourishes.

Idealism of the immature mind. Fairytales. Yet not nearly as magical as reality.

The actuality is that life, yours and mine, is more akin to the tectonic plates. Always moving. Changing. Sometimes nearly unnoticeable, sometimes dramatic. We slide against one another, we grate, we clash, we separate, we join. We create beauty, drama, disaster, and vistas. The mirage of peaceful existence is superficial. Below the surface, in any of us, at any time, there exists movement that moment to moment changes the landscape of our lives and those around us.

Genius takes root not in the placidity of smooth soil, but as a result of chaos. The ultimate resiliency. We flourish, we extend ourselves, we reach. Hardship provides ideal conditions for ingenuity. That is the difference between the green and well meaning student with an IQ of 135 and the one who has life experience. Life is our best classroom. It will hone you. The truly resilient find meaning amongst ashes.

I'd like to stop and collect my thoughts; Present them in a tidy package. Yet there is no "pause" button. At best there is the lull between crests. The trick is to capture the calm and use it wisely. Amazing things happen when this is mastered. One of my favorite examples of this is the pioneer of existentialism, Viktor Frankl.

If you are waiting for life to slow down, realize it may not. Functioning through life means functioning through change. Meaning, motivation, inspiration, opportunity, and courage so often flourish in the soil of disaster. The question is, will we look?