Behind starburst eyes

Aug 8

Value and Worth Aren’t The Same

by starbursteyes

I’ve noticed that many people seem to be attracted to or pulled towards those that see their value. Western society seems to equate someone noticing all we could do for them with importance and therefore we crave our value being recognized by others.

What I’ve also noticed is that we seem to view our value to others as being the same as our worth. Only, I don’t see it that way. For me, my value is what I can do for another, my worth is what I bring to the table as a whole. One is about what I can do for them, the other is simply about me as a person.

For example, when Mr.N was a year old my value to him high as he needed allot of things because he was only a baby, but my worth was low because I was not viewed as an individual so much as I was the provider of food, comfort, clean diapers and security. However, now at almost 10, he can feed himself, cook basic meals, wash and dress himself and so on and so my value is lower but my worth is higher because he sees more of who I am as a person. This is a natural progression for children of course.

However, I think for many adults we still get stuck looking and evaluating people based on their value instead of their worth. Basically, we get stuck focusing on what specific dishes they bring to our table that we can consume instead of the worth they bring to our table with their presence.

While I’m sure part of this is due to a primitive survival mechanism that makes us seek out those that can help us have a better life (or thrive), I wonder if it’s something we need to consider as no longer inherently necessary.

How much better would it be if we attempted to develop relationships (platonic as well as romantic) with those who’s worth we saw instead? Would we be happier overall if we stopped focusing on what others can actively do for us and intentionally developed relationships based on the worth we saw within others instead?

I ponder these things because secretly adults that primarily view my value feel like a burden to be honest, I feel like the only reason they ask me to their table is for what I can provide that they will use/consume. I want to be invited because they see my worth as a whole person, not for what I can do for them, and I don’t view my value to another and my worth as a person to be the same thing.

Secret Garden

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May 24

We’re not in Kansas anymore…

by starbursteyes

“Of all the things that are different its the bees that make me homesick, they look like regular bees but they are blue and purple. Every time I catch a glimpse I think it is a real bee but then I am reminded that it is not home.”

The above passage from a book struck me deeply.

It made me think of many conversations I have had over the years with many persons and the struggles of trying so hard to “be a part of this world” when you feel like you really don’t belong. And isn’t that one of our most basic needs as human beings, the feeling of belonging? The feeling of being accepted? The feeling that yes, we too are a part of something larger than just ourselves. Some people find that feeling within their families. Some find it with a couple of close friends. Some find it at a place of worship.

But what about those that don’t find it? What about those that struggle each and every day to just BE a part of a group that loves and accepts them unconditionally?

98% of our DNA is the same as every single person’s on the planet, surely 2% out of 100% shouldn’t be enough reason for someone to feel different and excluded from the rest of the world…
How can we as their fellow human beings help? I don’t know. I don’t have the answer, but I’m hoping someone somewhere reading this just might. SO PLEASE, add your ideas at the bottom. Perhaps with many minds we can find a way to ensure ALL people feel the love and acceptance they deserve as fellow human beings.

Autism; second verse same as the first Lambert: Proud to be a lion amonst sheep ;-) Secret Garden

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Apr 5

What dreams may come…

by starbursteyes

In grade 11 I took a fashion/sewing class. About three quarters of the way through it I stayed after class to show my teacher the sketches I had been working on for months of clothing I’d designed. I knew the fabrics each piece would be made out of, and I could see in my head a 3D image of the finished article. I could turn it around in my head and see where each seam was, and exactly how to make it. I asked her if she could help me to understand how to draw the female form a bit easier as I had some difficulty sketching what I saw in my head. She sloughed off my explanations and question and basically told me not to worry about how to draw my ideas better as I’d really not need them. My face grew hot, my hands sweaty and my stomach churned as I tried to get outta there as fast as I could, all the while calling myself a fool. I still drew the things I imagined but I never dreamed of showing anyone again.

That afternoon is why no matter what dreams may come to them I encourage my children. I might tell them it’ll take a lot of hard work to break into an industry or a great deal of additional formal education. But I ALWAYS tell them I believe in them and their ability to pursue their dreams. Because really, sometimes when someone shares a dream, while they may want it with their whole heart, their confidence in being able to accomplish it is still as fragile as a butterflies wings, and I want to watch them soar.

Mommyhood: Fake it till you make it Secret Garden

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Feb 4

It’s not money that is the root of all evil it’s….

by starbursteyes

greed (1)

I don’t believe money is the root of all evil. How can it be, it’s just a bunch of paper and some metals shaped or coloured in certain ways. Numerous parts of Earth have different looks and patterns for their money. It’s simply a physical representation of a value we as a people have decided to use to barter with for our time or goods or services instead of bartering directly for the goods or services we need with one another.

That being said, the ability to collect money, to hold onto more than one needs for their well-being can become a negative thing when the right (or wrong depending on which way you look at it) person is the one hoarding it. The endless pursuit to obtain more, to never be satisfied with how much one has, that greed is the evil, not the money. It doesn’t really matter if it’s metals, jewels, or painted pieces of paper, when one is consumed with collecting to the point that they no longer can see how their actions might affect others, or even worse they don’t care how their actions affect other’s then it’s just plain greed.

It’s greed in general that is the real evil, not money. When we stop looking at one another as people, deserving of respect and common decency and instead simply evaluate how we can use them to bolster our collection of material goods it’s a sad state of affairs we find ourselves in.
Does this have anything to do with Autism? In a way yes actually it does, but it’s so much more than just about Autism. See, when we only look at other’s and evaluate their worth to us in terms of potential return we don’t see them for who they are. And it’s very easy to miss all that they could contribute to our lives. That can easily and readily be said about every single person on this planet! Each human being has the potential to add to this planet in meaningful ways. Some contributions might at first appear smaller than others, but just as the ocean is made up of countless rain drops, every contribution does make a difference!

When we decide that a person is worth less because we don’t believe they will make enough money for us, or provide us with an opportunity to make more money we are devaluing human life. We are saying that a collection of material goods that cannot feed, house, heal, or love us is more important that our fellow human beings.

There is a Pagan song that is sung often at different festivals around a fire, and the chorus is “We all come from the Goddess” No matter what religion you believe in they all state in their own ways that we all come from a central place, a central being or set of beings.

Even most Atheists agree that human beings come from a central source, even if it has no “Higher Power” but was in fact an evolutionary thing.

So while the entire world can agree that we all come from the same source (regardless of what we personally believe that source to be) why can we not see the intrinsic value each person on this planet holds and treat them better than we do our money or gold?

Secret Garden

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Jan 26

Depression, Suicide, and Pills

by starbursteyes

I had what I’ve read is one of the “hard” talks with Mr. C tonight. We talked about bullying, depression and suicide. We talked about how sometimes some people that are being bullied feel like they have no other option to escape their situation than to take their own life. I promised him that there is always a solution. That if we had to I would pack everything and everyone up and move 500 km away to get him out of that kind of situation. (I also explained there are other less drastic solutions we’d try first) But to never ever think he was trapped in that scenario, because if all else failed I’d hire a moving truck. I meant it. I wouldn’t want to move because of something like bullying, but I’d sure as shit do it if I knew it would make the difference between having Mr. C with me and not. See there are lots of studies that show a correlation between Autism and depression. But more importantly I know his family history, including his maternal medical history.

We then talked about depression. We talked about how sometimes for many different reasons (including but not only because of bullying) some people end up feeling like they’ve “lost their happy.No matter what they try to do, including activities they used to love, their happy seems just out of their reach. I explained that it could be because the brain isn’t making the right amount of certain chemicals. It could be because of a really hard time in a person’s life. I also explained it could happen with no obvious cause in sight. I told him it was important to talk to me or another grown-up he trusted if he felt like his happy was gone. We talked about the difference between being sad, having the blues, having the blahs, being upset and being depressed. I told him it didn’t matter which one he was feeling it was okay to talk about it and that his feelings would be respected. I promised him I would never slough off his emotions when they weren’t “happy/shiny”

I’ve read that these were hard conversations to have with your child, but for me personally that wasn’t the case. Instead I was grateful to have them with him. I was glad to hear him say that he knew suicide was never the answer. I was thrilled to hear him say he trusted me to help him find a solution should he be bullied or feel like he’d lost his happy. I’m glad because I’ve struggled for 11 months to find my happy. It’s been since we lost Joy that I can’t seem to find it. I try, and I have brief moments where it seems almost within reach, but then it slips through my fingers again. I end up staring off in the distance trying to remember how to smile like the woman I was in the hopes that if I go through the motions long enough I’ll finally BE her again. Only it hasn’t worked. I see her staring back at me through the mirror, so clear I could almost touch her, but really she’s like a faded photograph, because she’s just a reflection of who I used to be. So I went to my doctor finally and I am now taking something to help. Because I tried everything I knew, but I still couldn’t find the happy woman I used to be. Which is part of the maternal medical history I know of for my children. The part that makes me aware of how needed conversations like tonight’s was to ensure should he ever be facing a rough part on his path he’ll ask for help in walking it. Because that’s what I’m here for, to help each of them in whatever way they need. I acknowledge a part of that is also taking care of myself. In part so that I CAN be there for them, and also to show them it’s OK to ask for help when you truly need it.

Canada:

If you are contemplating suicide, please contact your doctor, or go to your local emergency room, or dial 911 from any telephone.

If you are being bullied, depressed or just need someone to listen and you are under 20 you can call Kids Help Phone 24/7 for free: 1-800-668-6868.

If you are an adult and find yourself in a mental health crisis: Canadian Crisis Centres is a list of crisis centres across Canada, with local free phone numbers.

You can also dial 211 from any phone and ask to be connected with your local crisis service.

In the USA:

Crisis Service: 24/7 for free help 1-800-273-8255

Lambert: Proud to be a lion amonst sheep ;-) Mommyhood: Fake it till you make it Secret Garden

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Jan 16

Long, short or none, still a woman

by starbursteyes

My womanhood is not dictated by the length of my hair.

So last week I found lice in Mr. N’s hair. I checked my own and found a nit. My solution was simple, I washed everything and I shaved our heads (and Mr. C’s just in case as Mr. N loves to climb into bed with him and lay his head on his brothers and snuggle. A fact that leads me to near tears because of the vast change in his ability to handle physical contact, but I digress)

I thought I was judged a lot when I had pink hair, but WOW it was nothing compared to walking around as a woman with a shaved head. I have had people stare, snort their distain and even ask me if I actually think I’m still pretty without my hair. Here’s what it’s made me realize. We as a society are FAR too critical of everyone, especially strangers! While I logically understand that our judgemental tendency most likely stems from thousands of years of not trusting anything different our “outside of our tribe” as part of our means of survival, it doesn’t stop it from bothering me at times when I am judged by strangers. But then I breathe and try to remember that no one, not a stranger, not a friend, not even a family member has the right to dictate what I do with my body.

Something as temporary and superficial as a hair cut does not change what gender I identify as. I am not “less of a woman” because I only have an 1/4 inch of hair on my head. Just as I was not “more of a woman” when I had long tresses. What makes women; women is their intrinsic belief that they are. What makes me a woman is within me, it’s my spirit, not my hair or clothes.

Mommyhood: Fake it till you make it Secret Garden

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Nov 4

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

by starbursteyes

tmnt

I have agreed to speak at a local event called “The Heart of Ajax” this coming Wednesday. The really cool part is I’ll be speaking with a bunch of youths from all over the town of Ajax who will then devise a plan to take back to their school that will do one of the following: Raise awareness, Teach other kids how to be an Ally, Raise funds for an organization or in some form bring about positive change and positive impact in the lives of others. I was asked to speak about mental health, the stigma surrounding mental health and how to be an ally to those not classified as neurotypical.

I have thought extensively on what I wanted to say. I have started a dozen speeches, and threw each one away. Then tonight as I watched my son gently lean in to kiss his sleeping cousin’s forehead I saw her wall decals. She adores Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TMNT) and I knew right then what I was going to talk about.

I hate TMNT. I hate what they remind me of. When I was in Grade 5 there was a boy in my grade who loved TMNT. we’ll call him “Shawn”. He would talk about them every single recess, and lunch hour. It didn’t matter if other kids really paid attention our not, this boy would still talk about them. See he didn’t really catch social cues all that well. He wore clothes a bit different from the rest of the boys my age, instead of jeans he only wore sweat pants, and his shoes had Velcro instead of laces. He would go into a special room with a special teacher than none of us had seen before for allot of his day. He didn’t always brush his teeth, enough so that the other kids really noticed the build up on his teeth at times. He was never mean to anyone. He would smile and say hi to everyone every day. For quite awhile, the first few months at least he tried to play with the other kids at our school. Every recess, and every lunch hour he’d try to insinuate himself into our games and our conversations. Most often his addition our conversations was to change the subject to TMNT. There was a girl in my class who was not very nice to allot of kids. She was especially mean with this boy. She would laugh at him and make fun of him and purposely exclude him from games and interactions on the school playground.

I never said anything mean to him. I never really said anything at all to him. I never stood up for this boy. I never tried to be a friend to him. I stayed silent when he was being slighted or shunned or made fun of. 22 years later I still have a lump in my chest when I think of him. I still feel bad that I wasn’t strong enough to stand up for him. I didn’t know why he was different. I didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand him. Do I know what his official diagnosis was, no I don’t. In part because we didn’t talk about that stuff back then. We didn’t get presentations or custom made books in our classroom to explain why someone was a bit different, and that we should accept them as they are. We didn’t have Autism Awareness Day or many of the other Awareness Days we now have for mental health/neurological diagnosis’s. But those are just excuses I tell myself when I look at my two sons. Pat answers for why I wasn’t the type of person I now want other children to be towards my own Autistic boys. The truth is, acceptance is taught. Acceptance is learnt, through being open, through conversations and presentations and through real life moments with someone who only wants to talk about TMNT.

My goal is to help these kids see how to be better than I was at their age. My goal is to help them develop their own school’s plan for increasing awareness of, and acceptance of persons with, various diagnosis’s. I want for the “Shawn’s” of the world to be invited to a birthday party when the entire class is given invites. I want their additions to conversations to be valued, even if they’re not agreed with I want them to feel like their peers are listening when they speak. I want for these kids I’ll speak with tomorrow to learn and in turn to teach others how to be an ally to those different from themselves. And maybe even to be open to the possibility of friendship with people with all different neural structures.

That is why I hate TMNT, because they remind me of when I failed at being an Ally. I failed at being open to someone different than myself. That is why I also love TMNT, because they remind me to be better, to be the type of person I would want in my own child’s life.

P.S “Shawn” I doubt you’ll ever read this, but if you do: I really am sorry.

Autism; second verse same as the first Lambert: Proud to be a lion amonst sheep ;-) Secret Garden

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Oct 13

Active Participation; his way

by starbursteyes

Shoulders slightly hunched as he plucks at his pant strings. Sitting on the only chair in the room, he watches the other children dancing. It would be a sad picture of a child excluded, until you look at his face. He’s not forced to sit on the sidelines as it first appears. He’s focused intently on watching their dancing. He’s breaking down the flow and movements of limbs and core into pieces he can then re-create at home. In private he’ll try each move. If he’s stuck he’ll ask his brother for help. Even then, he’ll ask him to do them over and over until he’s sure he’s figured out the “how” to each one…Then he’ll dance. Joyfully, with abandon he’ll dance, for himself, and for all those he loves he’ll ask: “Wanna see my cool dude moves?” But first he’ll watch. I’m thankful our local YMCA accepts him as he is. I’m grateful they respect his ways, and understand his need to watch first. I’m glad they understand that for Mr. N watching IS active participation for him. It’s his way, and they smile at him and tell him he can join in with the actual dancing when he’s ready.

Autism; second verse same as the first

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May 7

Some things you just can’t Google

by starbursteyes

There are times when I get caught up in ensuring that Mr.C is “on-track” or “at grade level” with his peers. I get fixated from time to time on the lists lit up upon my computer screen of all the things our local school board says he should know at this time. Lists of facts and figures, books they have chosen, grammatical rules and scientific theories. But no where in their reams of pages does it speak of morals, attitude, creative thinking, leadership skills, ingenuity or honour.

When I get caught up on what he does or does not know academically, I remind myself of the following:

I am not here to create a robot that can spout facts or scientific theories verbatim, but lacks the ingenuity to put them to productive use when he needs or even wants to do so.

I am not here to force him to memorize plots and dialogues, but lacks the critical thinking skills to grasp the significance of some of the literary works of art we currently have access to as a society in general.

I am not here to ensure he conforms to someone else’s standards, but lacks the honour and strength of character to stand up for what is right when what is wrong is being accepted as the status quo.

What I AM here to do is to teach him to (eventually) be a good man. To be the type of person others will be proud to call their friend, their ally. To be someone with enough courage to stand up for what is right, even when he’s forced to stand alone to do so. To be a man of honour, of integrity, to be a man of  ingenious leadership abilities, even when he’s only leading himself along his own path.

Don’t get me wrong, I DO teach him academics, but if it takes him a bit longer than some piece of paper says to learn about the periodic table of elements or the correct placements of commas I’m okay with that. Why, because he’s learning SO much more right now, he’s learning how to become the man he will be for the rest of his life.

Plus if he forgets the standard conversion rate of ATP to ADP he can Google it, but when it comes to things like strength of character well there are some things you just can’t Google 😉

Autism; second verse same as the first Mommyhood: Fake it till you make it

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Apr 8

#HAWMC Day 7: Why I write about Autism

by starbursteyes

#HAWMC Day 7: Why I write about Autism. Tell us why you write. How long have you been writing? What impact has it made on your life? Write for 15-20 minutes without stopping.

images

I write because if more people understand Autism than there will be less times that parents are ostracised and called out for their supposed flaws as parents. (Such as this)

I want to help show the parents of children that have just been diagnosed the beauty and wonder of parenting that still awaits them! I really am “Happy in Holland” and I don’t wish for different children. Instead I get my butt researching and thinking and planning on how to best help them to have a life they define as happy.  I’m going to repeat that, because I think that right there is a huge issue. I want them to have a life they define as happy. Nowhere do I say I want them to create the life I deem as happy, because it’s not about me, it’s about them. Just as my life isn’t about what my parents deem as a happy life, it’s about what my spirit says is personally fulfilling, and my children deserve the same right to choose their own happiness, as does every other person on this planet!

I write to help other parents see that they don’t need to feel helpless in their childrearing of Autistic kids; they can research and plan and create methods and ways to enrich their children’s lives and help them to access their fullest potential all without demeaning, or shaming them or their natural neuro-pathways. Such as ensuring their cortisol levels are decreased through regular physical activities so they have less overloading and meltdowns. Or making behavioural therapy plans while their waiting for ABA, or creating a sensory room, or finding ways such as massage or the creation of “nests” to make going to sleep easier for them.

I write about my sons’ health, about their “condition” because I want the world to understand the path they walk in this life. I want to share the beauty and wonder they bring to me, and to so many people around them. I want for others to see that yeah they’re different, but it’s beautiful and special and amazing and so incredible. I write about Autism because too many negative stereotypes exist and I can’t change them without shining a light on what Autism really is. What Autism really means and why neurodiversity desperately needs to be accepted by our society.

#HAWMC Autism; second verse same as the first Lambert: Proud to be a lion amonst sheep ;-)

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