Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 80 Comments

Tree

Last night I had one of those dreams. That type of dream that leaves me breathless and unnerved for hours. Unable to sleep until after 3am then startled back into sleeplessness forty minutes later. All because I blogged briefly about throwing my knickers at Tom Jones.

I was walking across farmers fields. I was in agony as I was walking barefoot and the ground was rock hard with frost. With every step I seemed to tread on another sharp thorn. On my MP3 player was one song on repeat. Green Green Grass of Home. I was heading towards one tree. A tree on top of a small hill. The only tree on that hill. The closer I got the ground became more painful. Then the heavens opened and it started to rain increasingly hard. So hard my skin started to sting. Then I arrived at the small tree. A hangman’s noose swaying slowly in the wind.

That was clearly enough for me as I suddenly bailed out of that fun little dream.

Green Green Grass of Home was one of my mums favourite songs. You would often walk through her front door and hear Tom beautifully signing this song. The song written by Curly Putman was one of her favourite sad songs. It’s all about a man facing his last night on death row.

In the shade of that old oak tree
As they lay me neath the green, green grass of home.

What’s the lesson from this nightmare.

Is it

I really should stop blogging as it gives me nightmares.

Or

Next time I do have to throw my knickers at Tom.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 63 Comments

Dreams pesky dreams

If I was a flower I wonder what dreams I would have.

Before my partner died I would have the occasional dream that I could remember, but not that often. My sleep would be disrupted but usually by our son. Plus back then, when there are two of you can take turns on the sleepless shifts.

Then after my partner died sleep became increasingly disrupted. Son has always had an interesting sleep pattern. Whatever we have tried has never managed to change that. Eventually the health professionals just called it – it is how it is for him, it works for him, so just run with it. Basically his mind and body are too active for sleep anything south of midnight. He will usually fall asleep between midnight and 1am. Then he will sleep until 6am until his mind and body kick into active mode again. When he was younger he would constantly wake during that time, so one of us would need to be with him to get him back to sleep. But as he’s got older he more often than not sleeps through. A couple of times a week he will still wake and I get the night visits. Checking I’m still here, wanting an answer to a question or wanting to tell me a fact.

Dad Harold (that’s Harold II) was not the last english Saxon king. William beat Harold on the 14 October 1066 but wasn’t officially crowned until the 25 December. In theory Edgar Atheling (Edgar II) was king. He had the strongest blood claim to the throne. Night Dad.

But as our son’s sleep has stabilised my dream pattern has increasingly disrupted mine. It takes an age for me to get to sleep then all to quickly a vivid dream wakes me and then that’s usually it for the night – no more sleep.

The dreams have also changed. I have had three distinct dream stages. Each stage has its own unique dream type – each night its the same sort of dream.

The reliving fond memories stage. This was the nicest, yet saddest stage. The dreams would relive completely accurately lovely memories. Maybe a holiday trip, a birthday, an early date with my partner, finding out when we we’re going to be a family….

The bizarre memory stage. Then suddenly the dreams changed. They still were based on fond memories but always morphed in some bizarre way. A dream about a lovely family trip to a petting zoo, but in the dream the cute little animals were replaced by dinosaurs – we still petted them. A dream about sledging with son on one of our few proper snow days. But in the dream the white snow had become pink.

The current dream stage. The weird/unsettling dreams. No more dreams based on real life memories. Just unsettling made up dreams. Last night for example my partner (who was pregnant) and I had gone shopping in this made up out of town shopping complex. We had gone into a huge furnishing store. We found some items we needed and I went looking for a shopping trolley. Couldn’t find any trolleys inside, so I looked out in the car park. Still no trolleys. So I walked across to the next store which was a supermarket (ASDA). They had trolleys but they needed a coin to release them. None of my coins would work. I then couldn’t find our car to get more coins. So I ran down a short slip road to the next group of shops. Here the trolleys were all vandalised. I ran down another slip road to the another shop which was a huge DIY store. They had trolleys but they wouldn’t push correctly. It took all my strength to move them a few inches. Finally I found an electronics shop which had trolleys that worked. But now as hard as I tried I just couldn’t find my way back to the first store with my partner who would be getting increasingly annoyed with me. I was now completely lost and in full panic mode. Then I woke up. Now I was completely unsettled and that was it for sleep. Too tired to read or blog. So all I could manage was to watch crappy TV and listen for the clock to tick round until son woke up.

I look back with fondness at those memory dreams. Even those bizarre Dino type memory dreams. Yes they could be sad but they where a wonderful gateway into the past. But these current dreams I really hate. No sweet memories here just my brain finding new ways to unsettle my soul. Sleep is now something I desperately need, yet I struggle to do it. It is also becoming something which brings me nothing but stress. I hate being stuck in this ever decreasing sleepless circle.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 83 Comments

Hanging on

After all the bad weather. The floods. The driving rain. The damaging winds. After three storms. Conditions which have proved too much for the early daffodils. The snowdrops are still hanging on. They are truly wonderful little delicate flowers.

Hanging on applies to the humans as well.

Son’s anxiety levels are definitely spiking now. He is returning to the outside world after 10 days of safety within the confines of his house and garden. Days of not needing to build rickety bridges between his world and the world of others. It’s been wonderful to see a kid enjoying being a kid again. Seemingly without a care in the world. But soon school will open the gates to its hostile environment again. As hard as I try the smiles are harder won and often just a little too forced now. Today he is hanging on.

His Dad is just hanging on as well. Son’s anxieties are sending shock waves through my system. A system which is operating on too little sleep. A system which is facing its very own localised storm. A Grief Storm. These storms don’t last as long as they once did. But they still can have an intensity which still takes my breath away. Sucking the life force out of me. They often sweep in without warning. Turning seemingly light into dark. It takes me back to my climbing days. Happily climbing looking into a dry sunny cliff face, blissfully unaware of the raging blizzard which is screaming towards my back. Within seconds I am are grimly hanging onto the rocks trying not to be swept into the oblivion beneath me.

I strongly suspect this Grief Storm was germinated in my fears as a single parent and the growing prospect of homeschooling.

  • Is it the right decision?
  • Am I taking on too much?
  • What happens if my work levels and our income are adversely effected by factors outside my control. My role is heavily dependent on community and sporting based events. These are likely to be curtailed if a certain virus takes hold in the UK. That would make our financial position even more precarious.
  • Are we giving up on school too soon?
  • How will I find the time to do those things which currently help get me through the day. Homeschooling is likely to make activities like running a bit of a rarity.
  • And on and on

Wrestling with these factors on my own. Thoughts then increasingly turn to the gaping hole left by my partner. Suddenly it’s a full on a Grief Storm. So I end up just hanging on. But at least I am still hanging on and that’s a start.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 90 Comments

Poets Society

The feeding zone has been active today with the usual characters. Yes the characters are making a mess of the lawn but it’s always so good to see them. We don’t get too many human visitors these days so who is going to notice the rugby pitch of a lawn and I don’t think non-human visitors are that fussed.

Another largely sleepless night. One short dream, a viewing of the stunning yet grim Everest movie and a bout of late night blog catchup. While reading a friends post a thought entered my zonked out brain. How many other souls are struggling with sleep currently. We really deserve our own secret club. Maybe the name should be The Dead Tired Poets Society. Dead Poets Society is a truly stunning movie. If we want to be selective we could be the Dead Tired Parents Society.

But why stop there. We could have so many subgroups.

For the financially challenged – The Dead Broke Poets Society,

For the puzzled amongst us – The Dead Confused Poets Society,

For the bad cooks – The Dead if you eat this cake Poets Society,

For those feeling happy – The Dead Chuffed Poets Society,

For those who can regenerate – The Deadpool Poets Society,

For the rubbish Fortnite players – The Dead in five seconds Poets Society,

For the rubbish negotiators – The Deadlock Poets Society,

For the strong amongst us – The Deadlift Poets Society,

For the gardeners amongst us – The Deadheading Poets Society,

For the Monty Python lovers – The Dead Parrot Poets Society,

And for the impassive people – The Deadpan Poets Society.

Today was another fun day. Fun but with son’s anxieties bubbling just beneath the surface. I have emailed school to tip them off but deep down I know they won’t do anything. The teachers won’t be informed and if they were – what would actually happen. Not much. I’m not sure how much training this group of teachers have had in dealing with anxiety. They certainly have had little specialised training in areas like dyslexia and autism. Maybe that’s why my first questions to the teachers tends to be

You do know he has Aspergers and you do know he has Dyslexia and you do know he has Dyspraxia.

The look I get back with the generally vague replies suggests either they don’t or they do but given the 1000 things they are dealing with this is never going to be a priority. So my parenting anxieties are mounting again. That’s why having fun is so important. It’s great for my son and it’s such a release for me. A release which is even more important when sleep fails you. Can you guess what tonight’s insomniac movie is. I’ve dropped enough clues.

Dead Poets Society.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 76 Comments

Two quotes

“I AM DIFFERENT NOT LESS” – Dr Temple Grandin

Another week we dust ourselves down and go again. Although the route is still shrouded in mist and we face countless dead ends – we must keep going. If not for me but for our son.

A session with a new health professional. Always a good sign when she does not ask me what I want, she asks our son. The health professional is going to contact school to see what work they have undertaken to help with our son’s handwriting. Assuming school has done nothing and has no plans to do so (which we believe is the position) then the health service will start a programme to help with his writing. This will be the first time in three years work that son will have had specific help with his writing. Let’s see what progress can be made, what writing aids help. If progress cannot be made then that might be the time we start to move away from pen and paper to keyboard and voice recognition.

So we start down another path.

These are the specific areas son asked for help with

  • Handwriting
  • Shoelaces and Ties
  • Holding objects like handles which require two hands.

Interestingly he sees Aspergers as who he is – his personality. Aspergers is not a label just him. However he now sees himself as not dyslexic.

The fact that I can now read some of the words and can mostly guess the rest means I’m not dyslexic. Now I’m just not very good at reading.

I think this recent view of dyslexia is down to school. Firstly school sees anyone with dyslexia as low attainment. Son hates being branded as below average. As a result Son sees dyslexia as an unwelcome label. Secondly the label dyslexic brings him no additional help from school. Whats the point of referring to yourself as dyslexic if it brings no support benefits and only results in being automatically branded below other kids in the class.

The bottom line is the school system has failed him. It has failed too many kids. That’s one of the reasons you read so many cases of great individuals who have decided to hide their dyslexia. Kenny Logan is a Scotland Rugby legend playing 70 times for his country. He choose to keep his dyslexia secret. From his team mates. Even from his wife. Only at the age of 34 did he finally seek help. On what planet can this be allowed to happen. So much wasted talent and opportunities. So much stress and suffering. This is nothing short of a disgrace.

I started with a quote and I will finish with one. One from our son

When someone has a disability your not allowed to discriminate against them. If your in a wheelchair you shouldn’t have to put your hand up for help. So why is it that when someone has an invisible disability you can be ignored and that you have to say ‘Please will you help me’ and when they ignore you it’s not discrimination.

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Pranked again

Absolutely shattered. Tank empty, operating on fumes. Sleep walking. Zonked out. Giving Zombies a bad name. Too tired to sleep. Insomnia. Whatever you call it, it’s not a good place to be. Too many of us suffer from this. So much for progress.

Last night was a decent one really in the scheme of things. Three hours sleep. But just not enough. You know it’s going to be a long day when you go to make a wake me up coffee only to find when you sit down that you had already made one only a couple minutes ago. At least back to back coffees was a nice indulgence.

Thankfully I was alone at work. Not sure I could have managed conversation and spreadsheets. Today the spreadsheets got the best of me anyway. Nothing like looking at row after row of numbers to help wake you up – NOT.

One thing is clear – my tiredness makes me a sitting duck to stupidity. Driving back from work today I picked up our son from school. Soon the tiredness really started to catch up with me. While driving I fumbled around next to me for anything sweet and sugary. Unfortunately I completely forgot that I had not yet disposed of my son’s ear plugs from Kiss. Repeating the disaster from last year I again sampled the taste delights of used earplugs.

I was that tired I didn’t initially realise the humiliation. Just chomping away, just marvellous. The first indication was the hysterical laughter coming from next to me.

I secretly hoped you would do that again. You are often so predictable. So predictable I actually cleaned them first. See I’m nice that way.

Very kind of him.

Later I took the dog for a walk. No that’s wrong. This evening the dog took me for a walk. I was definitely in autopilot mode. We ended up in a random, new field. At least it was beautiful. I could happily have crashed here for the night. Not sure the farmer would have been that impressed with the sleeping trespasser. It took me a while to figure out how to get back home.

Anyway I’m back now. Hoping for maybe 4 hours tonight. That would be nice but I’m not holding my breathe. I will take any sleep, any at all.

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 91 Comments

Tired

I’ve never really been much of a threat to the great thinkers of our time. This is especially the case when I’m tired. Today I’ve tried to function on 2 hours sleep in the last 24 hours. The results have verged on spectacular:

  • The picture above was mini cake attempt 3. No idea why they refused to rise this time. The first attempt I used Pea Protein Powder rather than Self-Raising Flour. The second attempt had the right ingredients but not necessarily the right ingredients for a cooking time of 2 hours – completely forgot about them.
  • Took the dog out into the garden for his morning constitutional. After a few minutes he was missing. Had a 5 minute panic until I realised the poor dog was still in the house..
  • Put dog food into the cat bowls.
  • Poured orange juice over my cornflakes.
  • During my early morning workout I actually fell asleep for a few seconds while trying to do floor presses.
  • Had to go to a meeting but put the wrong postcode in the sat navigation so my 15 minute journey took 50 minutes.
  • When I did get to my meeting and took my coat off. T-shirt inside out.
  • The final straw was opening a tin of Tuna to make our son a Tuna and Sweetcorn Sandwich. Funny looking Tuna more like sliced peaches in syrup. Can’t remember buying them…..

So today has been one of those days. Plenty of mistakes but no damage. In fact it’s been quite a lucky day. I posted a while back about stupidly booking two different sets of concert tickets for the same night. I spoke about our son deciding to see Ozzy rather than Thunder, but asking me to wait until the last minute as “this is Ozzy we are talking about”. Well today we found out the Ozzy concert has been put back a few weeks due to a bad case of Ozzy flu. So next week it’s Thunder. So yes I’m tired, very tired but kinda happy. Bring on Tuesday…..

Posted on by bereavedandbeingasingleparent · 75 Comments

Bad parenting

First taste of winter. Hardly alpine skiing conditions but at least it feels like winter. In some parts of Austria they have had 10 feet of snow falling over just 15 days. England grinds to a halt when we get 6 inches…..

Our son had been clinging onto the hope of a Monday school closure. I always suspected he would be disappointed. The school has many faults but it does seem immune to the weather. It never seems to close.

It feels so cold in my heart today.

You get mornings when you are tired and then you get mornings when you are TIRED. Today I just can’t get going. Lack of sleep eventually gets to everyone. It did this morning and I hate it.

As the school bus trundled down the road.

“Dad I don’t want to get on the bus, will you drive me”.

I realise how daunting that trip is to our son and my usual answer would be – don’t worry, no harm done let’s get in the car.

Not today……..

Today I told him to get onto the bus. As soon as he was on the bus my mind had cleared. What was I thinking of. What a prat…

Am I just looking for excuses. Probably it’s just down to awful parenting. Part of me is hoping I can blame fatigue. The other part of my brain is looking to give myself a good kicking. Will certainly try to make it up to the little fella tonight. Must raise my game, son deserves better than this…..