It’s truly awful outside. Even by Yorkshire standards it’s grim. So let’s go back to blue skies. Even today the blue sky is there. Close by. Just need patience until it appears.
So we made it through another school term. A term of school at home.
Is survived the right word….
Last night a thought struck me. Just how few people I have actually physically met and talked to in that term. So apart from Hawklad the list I believe is…..
- The postman and the occasional delivery person,
- The delivery man (same one) who dropped off the washing machine and dryer,
- The cashier at the local store.
- Hawklads nurse counsellor,
- The vet,
- The receptionist at the pharmacy.
That’s it. Since September. Thought I had better pad that out a bit. So let’s add. Dozens of the farmers sheep, cows and the growing numbers of hooligan garden birds. But when you analyse it. These aren’t really meaningful conversations. Just passing exchanges of words.
Last year that kind of isolation would have completely spooked me. It now kind of feels like the norm. How it should be. That’s because IT IS the norm. It’s been like that since March. Will be for at least a good part of 2021.
Those cows and sheep are really going to get bored of me.
Another day and yet more mist.
It’s been one of those days when apart from Hawklad, I haven’t seen another member of my species. Not one person walking the fields. No one walking in the village. Not one soul. In fact I haven’t even see one moving car. With the mist no chance to see aeroplanes. Nothing. No sign of human life. Its officially a GHOST TOWN. Time to FROWN…
Well Ghost Village. Time to PILLAGE. That maybe is my Viking ancestry.
The only other option entering my frazzled mind is. Living in a Ghost Village. Better listen to some Steve Hillage. I once had one of his albums.
Anyway you get the picture. ISOLATION.
Definitely the perfect metaphor for 2020. ISOLATION and learning to really appreciate what I have. It’s definitely been a defining year. Sadly the year has done nothing for my poetry skills….
It’s still damp and wet….
We seem to be stuck in this grim weather pattern. Definitely feels like Groundhog Day again. But one day it will change. The sun will shine. The cycle will be broken.
It’s funny how sometimes it’s the indirect things that truly demonstrates the changes in life.
Last night I was writing Christmas cards. I remember a few years back. I would sit with my partner. Christmas music cd on the hifi. Going through the address list. Even with the two of us it would take ages to get the cards completed.
Then life happened. Aspergers Patenting. Loss. Single Parenting. Isolation.
So last night I started writing the cards. The same Christmas music cd on the hifi. Then the change. I was through the card list after 4 songs. 4 songs….. What happened to having the listen to the cd several times. Hours down to minutes to complete.
The rapidly diminished card list tells me everything I need to know about the path life has pushed me down. But it is what it is. And actually writing cards is clearly difficult for me. One person almost got a happy Easter and my sister was almost wished happy birthday…. Actually I’ve always had a habit of doing that. Somethings don’t change.
A brief few minutes of decent weather before the next wave of wet and windy ‘yuk’ arrives. It’s good to get outside to breathe even if it only for a short while. Having said that. Try telling that to a dog. A dog who has taken one look at the weather and decided to hibernate inside. Can’t blame him really. Cold wet grass or playing with a toy on the sofa. Not really a tough call.
I remember after my partner died that I felt like hibernating. Straight after a death you are constantly forced out to sort out death certificates, funeral arrangements, banks, legal stuff, family, friends and acquaintances (many you have no idea who they are). It’s the last thing you want to do but you just have to. But then after your back from the funeral it starts to change. The requirements to venture out start to diminish. In my case I had to quit my job to become a single parent. Apart from the school run and shopping, no need to go out. And that’s what I did. Started to hibernate. But home wasn’t a warm and safe nest. It felt cold, empty and scary. But hibernate I did.
I was lucky. For some reason one day I went for a run. Suddenly running was ok. I could avoid people and venture out. It helped break the spell of that lifeless house. Mile after mile running and listening to music. It was a start. I was outside more. Starting to breathe again. People would come later. And yes a mad dog would arrive to bring life back to the house. So yes I will grant the mad one a bit of hibernation. He’s earned that.
It’s been a good year for roses here but so not for other flowers. But occasionally the colour shines out. Just as summer is closing we get a couple of late visitors. They are must welcome.
Hawklad is due another home counselling visit this week. Every two weeks is the plan. Part of a long term care strategy to see if they can help him with his anxieties and fears. An attempt to help him feel sufficiently ok to venture back into the wider world. He needs that professional support. Some things are just a bit outside of my parenting skill set.
Even with that help it’s going to be a long process. We need a fair and supportive wind to help the process along.
Like in many parts of the world pandemic numbers are rising. Unlike some parts of the world, the UK is trying to navigate these stormy waters with no effective government. They have a natural talent to make things worse, to add oil onto the fire. So it’s all a tab chaotic and shambolic. The PM sticking to his whack a mole strategy. His words not mine.
I was contacted by Hawklads care team to let me know that they will have to keep assessing if the service will be able to continue in the short term. They are receiving contradictory instructions from the top. It is likely that the home visits will have stop at some point. Probably very shortly. When they do stop then they will look into things like video appointments. Better than nothing I guess but far from ideal. Hawklad really struggles with that type of thing. The worry is that if the visits are forced to stop then they will not probably restart until after winter.
It’s just one of those things. Outside my control. Outside the care providers control. We just have to make the best of it. But it does add to the feeling that a return to school is a very long way off, if at all. It kind of feels like that our castle drawbridge is being raised again. Time to start manning the battlements. That’s a bleak thought. AND that’s why seeing a couple of small orange flowers in the garden is such a big thing for me.
See the sun does shine in Yorkshire – occasionally.
How can baking be so hard. Everything seemed to be going so well and then you end up with very odd shape bread. One day, one day.
Maybe I can blame these baking woes on a lack of sleep. At least it ended up tasting ok. So it’s kind of a result.
I was sat drinking my herbal tea and having my misshapen bread with some hummus. Really, is this what life has become….. sudden urge for proper coffee and a sausage roll. But that is life currently for me. I might wish for something else but circumstances dictate otherwise. Wow that feeling could cover so many things. But at that precise moment my eyes wandered to a book on the table. A book about Ski Jumping. One small dream is remembered.
I have always wanted to go to and see just one Ski Jumping competition. Have never got round to doing that. Circumstances have repeatedly prevented that. Now as a single parent with a son who struggles to get to the front gate of the house, those circumstances seem to be even more insurmountable. Another winter will pass. It’s definitely not happening this season. Maybe not for a number of years.
Yes it’s a little deflating but don’t get me wrong. That dream hasn’t died. It’s still there. Still cherished. The future still offers hope. Just have to deal with the here and now. In all likelihood autumn and winter will see no real change in our circumstances. The next 6 months will be largely restricted to our house and garden. Very few social encounters. Single parenting day in day out. More days of dodgy bread and hummus lunches. But it is what it is. Will just deal with that. But I won’t forget those special dreams. That what keeps me going.
I accidentally stumbled across a social media post from a parent from Hawklads school. It contained a photo of a trip to the beach whichsome of the families had made last week. Clearly having great fun. It will do the kids so much good to start living again.
I was so happy for the kids and happy for the parents. They are really nice people. They deserve fun.
But the post brought a touch of sadness. Wouldn’t it have been lovely if Hawklad had been there. To be with kids his age. Enjoying himself. Enjoying being a teenager.
Actually it would have been good for me as well. The last time we went to the beach with other families was 2015. I’ve kind of forgotten what the feeling must be like. You get use to the isolated life style. It becomes all consuming. It becomes who you are. Back in 2015 I remember turning up. Watching Hawklad play with the other kids. The parents had a barbecue. We played games and sand cricket. Built sandcastles. We talked, laughed. We hugged.
But that was then. It’s 2020 now. Different world. It was a different world even before a pandemic. The last time I actually hugged someone was at my partners funeral. That’s virtually 4 years ago. It’s 5 years since we went to a meet-up with other families.
It seems like a lifetime ago.
Three hours sleep in two days. All of that came the night before. Surely I should be more tired. Yes a little sleepy. Bags under my eyes – that could be Soya poisoning. Much yawning but still functioning. One of those long nights. Watched happy videos to bring smiles. But eventually the iPad ran out of juice and had to be pipped some of that electricity to bring it back to life. If only we had that option.
Can’t face watching night time TV. Please no QVC or car makeovers. Sleep refusing to come so then it was reading time. A book about a failed climbing expedition. Not happy reading. Loss of precious life, loss of fingers and toes. Was that final reckless push for the top really worth it. Only those climbers will know. My view of success in the mountains was always a little different. Success was seen as returning to camp in one piece with new experiences banked – the summit was just a bonus.
The read and the slow passing night did nothing for my spirit. The clock hands refusing to push forward quick enough. The hours dragging. Mood slowly sinking as fast as my chances of getting any sleep. That feeling of being alone. The iPad still drinking in electricity so no happy videos to lift me up.
Finally the dawn breaks and I’m out in the cool, damp morning air. Probably pushed myself too hard on the exercise. My body didn’t need that but for some reason my mind decided that was what was needed.
Now the day is here. Staggeringly I am not feeling tired. The iPad is back in business again. Quick video, look at some photos. Then a hot drink sat watching the moody Yorkshire skies. My mood lifted. Hawklad will soon be up. Not feeling alone. Almost time to rumble. The day beckons.
Let’s hope it’s not Groundhog Night.
Another hot one. One more day then proper weather sweeps back in.
Maybe it’s the heat. Maybe it’s overthinking. Maybe it’s these crazy times. Maybe it’s lack of sleep. Maybe it’s feeling just a little bit alone in this fight. Maybe it’s just one of those days. But today has been on off day. A down day. A misfiring day. A depressed day. I get these days. Not as many as I used to but it doesn’t really help when they strike. These days it definitely feels like good weeks and bad days. So it’s a bit of a surprise when the bad days sneak up on you. All the more frustrating because there is not a definite cause. No warning. Just wake up feeling this way.
A day when
- The mojo has gone on holiday.
- Life feels hard and unremittingly uphill.
- Just feeling yucky.
- Everything is an effort.
- The daily workout was completed but never got out of 1st gear.
- You just want to sit and slouch.
- That smile is an effort.
- Routine things become annoying.
- Those various body injuries just hurt that little bit more.
- An old photo which made you smile yesterday today brings a tear.
- That inner demon is just a bit stronger today. The negative voice is just that bit louder.
- Definitely a little snappy and quick tempered.
Basically low and deflated. It will pass but until it does then it’s no fun. I was going to swear but I won’t. Let’s get through the day and see what tomorrow brings. If it’s the same feeling then maybe a bit of shock therapy is required. I think I will ask son to fill a huge bucket with cold water then fill it with ice cubes and whatever else he fancies. Then he can dump it over me. It worked last time I was like this, maybe it will work again. Only one way to find out….
The Yorkshire version of Wembley Stadium. Can you spot the pet trying to once again sneak into the photo.
Even comes with a discerning crowd.
If Aspergers Parenting was a football game, well today feels like we have had a key player sent off….
I always naively assumed that if and when son got an official diagnosis then a support package would be out in place to help with his life chances. How silly of me. I didn’t count on year after year, having to fight the system. Trying to prize just the hints of support from a system which has been hammered into the ground by a Government which only looks after itself and it’s friends. To summarise
- A school system repeatedly fails kids who do not fit into the factory production line which is the UK school system. Two options, either fight for a place in one of the few special schools or accept your child being bracketed as ‘low attainment’ and consigned to the bottom set. The school will then forget about the child and then pat itself on the back if the child gets just one certificate.
- Letter after letter, call after call trying to find a clinician who is prepared to look at your child’s case.
- Passed from specialist to specialist who don’t have the time or resources to add your child onto their case load.
- Service after service cut by a Government which believes that only the rich should be able to buy access to essential healthcare. A Government that sees Mental Health as no more than an excuse to avoid work. Let’s not forget they described a child taking time off from school after a bereavement as an extended holiday.
- When you do finally get access to a service you then join the growing waiting list. Finally when your child is seen it’s virtually always by someone new, with no understanding of the back story.
- Finally your child starts to get older and the few services he has had access to are withdrawn as he is now above the age threshold. You see the Government likes to think that after 13, services are pointless and far too expensive. Adults have to sort themselves out.
We have had three brilliant exceptions to this.
- A Clinical Psychologist who worked with out son consistently for three years. She even delayed her retirement to ensure son’s diagnosis was officially approved.
- An Occupational Therapy service that worked with him every few months to help with things like coordination. A service which was cut when he reached 13.
- A wonderful Nurse Counsellor who worked with our son for 3 years helping with his anxieties and joining the fight for additional help.
We entered June 2020 with just the Nurse Counsellor left from his entire care package. And now the player is sent off.
The Nurse phoned today to let us know that she had been reassigned. She is great and some other kids are really going to really benefit from her time. We are eternally grateful for everything she has done. She is going to desperately try to find another clinician to take over from her. I know she will really try. We may get a replacement. The Nurse was the only clinician he really has connected with. Those connections are rare for him. Making a new connection is going to be tough and most certainly not guaranteed. As the Nurse said it feels like we have lost the progress made over the last few years.
Today feels like one of those tough parenting days. As a friend wrote recently we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves down and start again. We most certainly do. But it feels like it’s a much depleted team taking on the struggle. Forgive me I’ve not used a Lord of the Rings metaphor for a while. It feels like the heavens have opened. The hordes are massed outside the walls and I’m stood alone on the Battlements of Helms Deep. Just me protecting our son now. Doesn’t feel like Gandalf is riding over the horizon in the morning. I’m going to have to just find a way of doing this myself.
I’m off now to kick the ball into the net a few times. Maybe with a bit more force than usual. Then the fight starts again.