Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 94 Comments

When dreams fade

The pre Valentine onslaught is in full swing. One advert claiming to have the perfect gift for my partner, every base covered….. Really – every base?

I’ve always been a daydreamer. As a child dreams of football, cricket, astronauts and mountains dominated. They gave hope. The years went by and still I dreamed. Dreams of happiness and a successful career. Then I met my partner and the dreams changed. Suddenly dreams focused on starting a family. Then our son was born and dreams shifted to happy family life. Few years further passed and it became more likely no more children would arrive – again my dreams shifted. Now they were dominated by images of us happily growing old together. Walking hand in hand. Sat together in Parisian cafes. Sharing new experiences in new lands. Dreams and hopes intertwined. Then the world suddenly changed….

Now I live in the moment, just focused on the practicalities of the day. When I daydream now (very rare) these are entirely focused on our son. Dreams involving me have gone. When I look – nothing. They died with my partner. No happy thoughts of growing older. Just the deepest blackness. I have heard this phrase used before. Living our lives through our children. It is so true. One role.

One day I do hope my daydreams return. Some things don’t change. I am still a daydreamer at heart.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 49 Comments

No more than four words

We tried a new game a few hours ago. We had no more than 4 words to describe someone. It initially started as purely a wrestling game but spread out into the wider world. It sounds easy but I found it extremely testing. Just shows how verbose I have become.

Anyway it started off with Wrestling.

AJ Styles – Son (Best Wrestler on Earth), Dad (He has lovely hair)

Becky – Son (The Man) *** that’s on all her T-shirts

Undertaker – Son (A bit creaky now) Dad (Older Than Me)

Edge – Son (Best Entrance Music Ever)

Kane – Son (Still my favourite)

Brock Lesnar – Son (Paid Too Much) Dad (Scary but very boring)

Vince McMahon – Son (Likes Pretty Women) or (Likes Big Sweaty Men)

Then we went outside the Wrestling world

President Trump – Son (Sneaky and not nice) Dad (Plays too much golf)

Stephen Hawkings – Son (Science GOAT) *** GOAT stands for Greatest Of All Time, Dad (Appeared on The Simpson’s)

Einstein – Son (Science Second GOAT)

Homer Simpson – Son (Dad)

Hillary Clinton – Son (How did she lose)

Barack Obama – Son (Very Nice Clever Man) Dad (Can We Have Him)

Bill Clinton – Son (Cheeky and Naughty)

Bono – Son (Dad hates him) Dad (I hate him)

Gordon Ramsey – Son (Never heard of him) Dad (###@### f### off)

Bear Grylls – Son (Too mean to Bugs)

Squidward from Spongebob – Son (Dad)

PewDiePie – Son (YouTube Sensation) Dad (Who ???)

JK Rowling – Son (Made Money from Magic)

Patrick from Spongebob – Son (Dad)

Messi – Son (Footballs GOAT) Dad (Sign for Newcastle Please)

Arnold Schwarzenegger- Son (Terminator) Dad (Get Into the Chopper *** with an Austrian accent)

David Attenborough – Son (Mr Wildlife, Legend)

James Bond – Son (Drinks, Women, Guns) Dad (Sean Connery)

Prime Minister May – Son (Useless and Not Nice) Dad (Worst Ever PM)

Angela Merkel – Son (Proper Leader) Dad (Better than ours)

David Cameron – Son (Useless but almost nice) Dad (Caused this Brexit mess)

David Beckham – Son (Overrated) Dad (Never Liked Him)

Bill Gates – Son (Very Clever Very Rich) Dad (No More Updates Please)

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 73 Comments

Put in my place

The directness and purity of autistic children is a blessing. It certainly puts you in your place….

I told a really bad joke and got no reaction. So I told it again but this time started to explain it.

“Dad just stop. You don’t need to repeat it. The greatest artists and musicians never copied their masterpieces, they moved on to new ideas. Never repeated themselves.”

After a few seconds of silence

“Dad in no way am I saying you are a great artist or musician. The phrase can apply to others as well”

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 67 Comments

Enlightened by a flapjack

Son has always had a healthy appetite, but unlike his dad it doesn’t seem to impact on his body shape. At his last school (with less than 50 kids) lunch was very relaxed, with room to spread out and time for him to have several helpings.

At his new school meaningful intel about the practicalities of the school day has dried up. No feed back from school and a son who often wants to quickly forget about the traumas of the day. So I had no idea how lunchtime was going. I payed the school meal bill online and assumed a balanced diet was being consumed. He never complained about it so it must be ok – that’s my 479th bad parenting example, complacency. I did notice that he had a remarkable appetite on his return. Often eating me out of house and home.

This week as I paid the online meal system I noticed by chance an option to view what the menu was. Reassuringly it looked pretty good. Then I noticed another well hidden option which was tomview what he had actually selected. The selection was very enlightening…

********************

5th Sept – Pasta Main Meal

6th Sept – Macaroni Cheese (very surprising as he hates this)

7th Sept – Flapjacks x2 (sweet granola bar)

After that every day has been Flapjacks x2 apart from 2 days which showed up as a Tuna Sandwich.

*********************

By my calculations that’s 184 Flapjacks since September. Bugger – that’s my 480th bad parenting example, must stop swearing.

So it was time to have a more in-depth fact finding chat with our Son. Apparently on the first two days only his year group was in school. It was fairly quiet and he enjoyed his pasta dish. On the second day he thought the sign said pasta meal and was a bit miffed when he found macaroni cheese on his plate. After those two quiet days school lunch has become a nightmare. Too many kids, too little space and limited time. For a main meal you have to queue up for about 20 minutes. After that you need to circle round the dining area waiting for a space to become free. A bit of a nightmare for anyone, a lot of a nightmare for someone with Aspergers. To jump the queue you can opt for either a Sandwich or Flapjack or icebun. Queue jumping it was then for our son. I was puzzled why he broke his sequence of Flapjacks heaven with two Tuna Sandwiches (especially as he doesn’t really like bread). Apparently they had sold out of Flapjacks….

I have now spoken to school but they can do little, just too many kids to feed. I suggested staggering the lunch starts but apparently this cannot be done logistically. Really!!. They will however think about some dyslexic friendly food signage.

So I’m not sure where this leaves us. Packed lunch is not an option. These have to be dropped off at another part of the school prior to the first lesson and this would just provide more school stress for him. He’s never going to queue. So it’s Flapjacks, sandwiches or go hungry. I suppose at least he is eating something- 481st bad parenting example, it’s not a healthy option. Will just have to ensure he gets a good breakfast and have plenty of food in for his return.

One last thought.

After our conversation he asked what was for tea.

Rather sheepishly I replied

“I baked a fresh batch of Flapjacks this morning”

*********************

For a different and far more astute take on the autism school lunchtime trials please read Robyn’s great post from earlier in the week.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 76 Comments

Made up

Today I was thinking about how nice it would be to have some colour in the garden again. I tried to picture some flowers. The flowers I could see in my mind were last years plants. Couldn’t imagine any new flowers.

Our son’s school does ask the kids to do an awful lot of homework. Too much really. One of his assignments was to start putting together his autobiography. Red flag alert. This is a recipe to just reopen old wounds. Son was equally apprehensive. So I contacted school and expressed my concerns. We agreed that rather his own biography he would come up with a fictional one. As his hand is still not fixed I was going to scribe his thoughts.

“Ok I am in my 70s”

“I was born in the South of England”

Good start.

“I like music”

“My best friend is called Keith and he also likes music”

“I have another friend called David who I often share clothes with”

Not sure where this is going.

“I joined a band with my friend Keith”

“We played our first concert in 1962”

This sounds a bit like Mick Jagger.

“Well it is Jagger”

No you can’t use him, it’s supposed to be made up.

“Oh, Ok.”

“I am middle aged and I am a lecturer”

This sounds more like it.

“My father is very religious”

“I am an archaeologist”

“I’m scared of snakes and I am also an adventurer”

By any chance does he go looking for the Holy Grail.

“Yes, how did you know?”

Because its Indiana Jones. You can’t use him.

“Why he’s made up”

You just can’t use him, make one up about a child not a famous adventurer.

“Alright can I be an 8 year old boy”

Yes much better

“I am a bit cheeky”

“I live with a large family with many kids. I have a really annoying older brother and uncle”

“I am always getting shouted at”

This will make an excellent biography.

“Every Christmas my family go on holiday but they always forget me, so I am home alone”

Deep sigh…. Fine you win, you can be Kevin….

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 51 Comments

What works

Anxiety, sadness and fear. Three words which unfortunately are too often near the top of our household vocabulary. Along with fart, burnt food, turn the music UP, where’s the remote, sorry I forgot and Dad you Muppet.So what have we found that actually works for both of us. Here are some of the winners.

5,4,3,2,1

We have found that this technique is really good at taking the edge off panic attacks. It doesn’t work on any underlying problems but buys some time. At the first sign of increased anxiety:

Think of 5 things you can currently see,

Think of 4 things you can currently hear,

Think of 3 things you can currently touch,

Think of 2 things you can currently smell,

Now do 1 large breath.

The Sweetie Jar Oracle

If our son is going through a period viewing the world through unhappy filters we start the Sweetie Jar Oracle. Find a large clear jar and a bag of brightly coloured sweets. Not sure about the rest of the world but in the U.K. smarties, fruit pastilles or Skittles work well. Sort out say the red and yellow sweets. Then identify one of the colours as good and the other as bad. Then over a period of a few days, maybe a week start to fill the jar with the appropriate coloured sweet every time a good or bad thing happens. After a few days hopefully you will see more good sweets than bad sweets. This usually convinces our son that although bad things do happen, good stuff happens more frequently. You can then eat the sweets….

Good Memories Store

We have an old small suitcase which we use to store good memories in. It’s full of old photos and handwritten notes. Every time we remember a good memory I write it down and put in in the suitcase. When times are bad we can then dig out the memory store and hopefully receive an instant boost to the soul. Has the added advantage of making sure you don’t forget those all important wonderful moments in time.

YouTube

Just losing himself in a YouTube documentary works somedays. I remember one occasion when he had an awful day at school but after 45 minutes of YouTube watching he was a happy little bunny. Worryingly he had found solace in documentaries about Caligula. What happened to Peppa Pig…

Wheelbarrow Train of Pain

Talked about this in a previous post. It stops my sudden urge to punch the wall with frustration. Basically load up a wheelbarrow with heavy stuff then push it round the garden. The number of circuits depends on the severity of the frustration.

Lego

Found that building a Lego set really helps take our son’s mind off his anxieties. It’s also good for his fine motor skills. It’s often frustrating for me as it just reminds me that I never got round to buying the Star Wars Death Star Lego set. Now it would be cheaper to buy a real Ghostbusters Proton Pack and get Bill Murray to personally deliver it to us.

Trampoline

Almost everyday on his return from school our son heads for his trampoline. 20 minutes later many of the frustrations of the day are put to the back of his mind.

Late night dog walking

Walking the dog never really helped our son. He was often too concerned about bumping into others. We would be having a happy conversation but suddenly someone would appear on his radar and he would be lost to anxious social thoughts. Almost by chance we then found the delights of night time dog walking. At night no one is about in our village. We have the fields and lanes to ourselves. Now it has become an excellent stress reliever. We frequently use the walks to plan out in detail the next days schedule.

Bad things league table

Every so often we run the bad things league table. We both list all the things worrying us. We then work together to rank them in order of how much pain they are causing us. Points are awarded for the severity of the issue, it’s frequency and how difficult it is to solve. It quickly identifies the stuff we need to focus on or prepare for. Because it’s done as a league table our son finds it easy to talk about and work with. For the issue which is the league winner we then spend a few minutes working out a couple of actions which might help knock it off its top spot for the next league table.

***********************

One of the activists 100% guaranteed to raise our spirits will feature in the next post…

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 60 Comments

Bereavement and Aspergers

Death is inevitable but so so tough to comprehend. It’s hard for a grizzly mile worn traveller like myself to cope with, what on earth is it like for someone so young. Especially when it’s now 5 major deaths in 4 years. He’s only 11.

My son living with his Aspergers finds comfort in routine and orderly plans. Bereavement doesn’t fit into this ordered and planned world. Suddenly the world shifts, things are never the same again. This complete paradigm shift seems to manifest itself as shutdowns in his processing skills. His fine tuned memory becomes vague and unreliable. Concepts and principles become just random jumbled images. Simple tasks become complex nightmares. All he can think about is that the world and his happiness will never be the same again. Completely lost in this alien world.

Another aspect of Bereavement is a sensory one. Our son constantly fights to control and deal with all the sensory inputs flooding his body every second, every minute, every day ….. hardly ever receding. He has talked about death ramping all these sensory inputs up several levels. Suddenly the noise in his head is louder, he can feel the heart pounding, his skin is oh so much more sensitive, the unsettled stomach becomes a whirling vortex. He is trying to understand death while coping with this sensory storm.

When Bereavement occurs so many worries resurface for our son:

  • Fear of his own mortality. Suddenly every cold, every encounter with an unclean surface, every bump, every cough is a potential path to death.
  • Fear of his Dads mortality. No backstop, no second parent. Images of sad kids in cold foster homes like Harry Potter or strict Victorian orphanages flood his mind. How many movies have this as it’s premise.
  • Fear about losing special loves he will encounter in the future. Is the safest option to just shut the world out.
  • Bad things keep happening so they must be the norm in life.
  • Is it me. Am I to blame for this.
  • I just can’t find order and rationalise things anymore.
  • You learn to love, you learn to trust, then it is gone.

I think that final fear underpins everything. Trust in life for our son is hard to establish. He works so hard to build those bridges. Death smashes those bridges, breaks his hard fought trust.

We have started the healing process. Recommenced all the stuff which has helped in the past. But each time it happens the path to recovery becomes longer and more difficult.

The irony here is that this post is about our son (my only focus) and yet those last two lines (without thinking) are probably about me.

We now try to move on. The motto we have adopted is ‘each morning we dust ourselves down and go again’. Next post I will talk about some of the stuff which helps our son. More uplifting. More humorous. It has to be that way.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 81 Comments

It’s not just vampires that don’t like

Its not just vampires that don’t like garlic…..

“Dad I have to take some ingredients in for Food Technology. I tried to write the list down.”

So all the ingredients were carefully packed into the school bag. The last item. What does that say, big something.

“Think it’s a big garlic.”

Ok you can have a few cloves. Job done.

Fast forward to the end of the school day.

“Dad it wasn’t a big garlic it was a big turnip.”

No damage done and some laughs. Well that was until I went to empty the school bag.

Wow what a smell. A really strong garlic smell filling the room emanating from the bag. It was that bad I was tempted to call the Ghostbusters. Apparently when our son had discovered that the garlic was surplus to requirements he just throw it back into the school bag. Now everything stunk. The bag, the books, the pencil case, the calculator, the iPad.

One hour and one full bottle of Lemon Surface Cleaner later everything apart from the bag smelled ok. The fuming school bag would just have to be washed. Chucked into the washing machine – job done.

Contentedly I walked to make a drink. A thought crossed my mind. Houston we have a problem!!!! Some numpty forgot to empty the washing machine before the garlic bomb started it’s cycle.

60 minutes later. The bag still stinks. But progress – now the school clothes and my sports kit stink of garlic. So second washing attempt this time with triple the soap and half a bottle of fabric conditioner.

60 minutes later. The bag, clothes and now the washing machine stink of garlic.

Advice was sort from the internet. Third washing attempt but this time with added vinegar and three cut up lemons.

60 minutes later. Thankfully success. Strong garlic smell replaced with strong lemon smell. I’ll take that. Luckily after tumble drying the lemon smell is now almost pleasant. Unfortunately the school bag was obviously not tumble dryer proof. It now resembles a shrivelled prune.

A very tired Dad sits down with a well earned coffee.

“Dad you smell of garlic….”

I can now see why vampires don’t like garlic…..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 131 Comments

No text book grief.

I shouldn’t listen to the radio as it frequently gets me so very 😡😡😡😡😡 mad. The local station had a programme about grief. It featured a so called Bereavement Expert who seemed to be reading from a text book released before the Rolling Stones were born. It was truly awful. We had callers who believed it was wrong to grieve for more than a week or so – people should jump into a new relationship immediately. We then had callers who believed you should lock yourself permanently in a grief isolation cell – staying there until you die. No other options mentioned. The expert and the callers just so quick to pick faults with others. A complete sea of ‘I know best’ attitudes. The Expert advised people to not hang onto loved ones ashes – deal with them promptly and then move on. Then the so called expert brought up the case of an elderly man who every year took his wife’s ashes out for a meal on their wedding anniversary. The expert thought this man needed help as this was deemed as unhealthy. He was instructed to move on. Yes it was sad but he should be considerate to the other people having a meal.

Deep Deep sighs followed by immediately switching to a bit of Green Day on cd.

You just can’t judge how someone deals with bereavement and grief. We all do it differently. No right text book approach exists. Finding a new love quickly, or never replacing your love or doing something in the middle are all fine. Just don’t judge and stop picking faults – you just don’t know anything about that persons life or what they are going through. I find reading and listening to other people’s experiences with grief really really helps. I love hearing people’s ideas. But I never ever judge them.

I’m calming down a bit now.

Maybe this year we will start scattering my partners ashes, maybe we won’t. A couple of years ago I scattered my mums ashes on her family grave. My mum was adamant, no ceremony at the grave. I would do it when I had time. No new words on the gravestone. So when the time came….

The graveyard does not allow unapproved ashes scattering. The Policy states that it has to be an official process. An expensive and time consuming process. So it was time to go into covert operation mode. I decided to opt for a backpack and a shovel type of look. It would make me look like I was here to do some gardening. As I walked to the grave I realised that this rather shifty appearance made me look more like a grave robber. Anyway the time came. Do I just scatter them or dig them in. I will do both. So some were scattered. Unfortunately it was so windy part of my mum may have made it to Norway. She always liked the sound of a Scandinavian holiday. I then started to shift away some of the grave soil. Bit of a worry thought – how deep are the coffins buried? A nervous glance to the side revealed a companion. On a grave 5 yards away was a squirrel also happily digging away. Was the Squirrel hiding some nuts or was the little fella also solemnly scattering some ashes. We will never know.

My mum loved animals. Mum loved feeding squirrels. She would smile at the sight of the squirrel burying the nuts. So as I walked away I hoped that the little fella had moved onto our grave. Mum would like that. Not sure the Bereavement Expert would though..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 63 Comments

Putting this off for a while

Before the world changed we had quite good balance in our relationship. We both managed to maintain reasonable careers while making sure we always had one of us there for our son. Our trips out as a family curtailed when the Aspergers started to kick in more. However we realised it was important that we had time outs to recharge the batteries. My recharge times largely centred on climbing and going to see my football team.

The world has changed now.

Climbing has gone. Replaced by the very occasional trip with our son to do a bit of walking on some remote hill top.

Trips to see my Football team has kinda stayed in place. They feel like a connection with a much different world. Maybe three or four times a year our son will go to visit my sister for a few hours to allow a trip to see my team. Occasionally I can get a spare ticket so I can take our son to a match. More often than not my ticket is taking up by a friend.

Unfortunately a decision needs to be made. Something I have been putting off for a while. Football really doesn’t fit in with our new life. It’s very expensive. My son struggles with different environments – that even includes my lovely sisters place. My son will go to the stadium but the crowds don’t sit easily with him. It’s becoming very difficult to justify. It doesn’t help that my team is now owned by a really unsavoury and deeply unpleasant character – but that’s by the by.

It’s difficult. I have been going for 32 years. It’s the only time I get to meet some of my friends these days.

But now it’s time to close a particular chapter in my life. Things change, life moves on, you adapt. So after one final match then it’s goodbye Newcastle United….