The Undermine

This week I got one of the many episodes I get from people who have barely seen the kid during her life and have all kinds of opinions of her diagnosis, prognosis and other misconceptions they like to add on.

Case in Point: "You sure it was Autism?  I think maybe she was misdiagnosed, because she looks perfectly normal to me, blah blah blah.  I have seen kids with Autism and they don't look like her".

Yes.  I made the whole Autism thing up cause I enjoyed all the hell we've been through the last ten years and it makes for one hellava victory story and all the pity I get from people feels oh so good.

Don't get me wrong.  I love the fact that the kid is back on track and is almost unrecognizable compared to her peers, but do not undermine my last ten years.

Do not undermine the fact that from day one she was born I knew something was wrong; she cried non stop; she was probed and examined by every single emergency hospital during her first month trying to pinpoint what was wrong.  Do not undermine her hand flapping and complete zoning out during her first year of life.  Her severe tantrums and incapability to cope in public. Do not undermine her diagnosis at the age of two. Her walking on the tip of her toes, her body rocking, her screaming with each haircut.  Do not undermine all the nights I had to rip her off my body in severe temper tantrums.  Do not undermine the time she bit into my arm at the grocery store and ripped the first light layer of skin and the hell of a bruise it left behind.  Physically and Mentally.

Do not undermine the 2 psychological therapies, 2 speech therapies, 2 occupational therapies, 1 physical therapy, 1 kinesiology therapy she took weekly and the gluten free casein free diet we did the first three years of her diagnosis.  Do not undermine the nights I lay in bed debating whether to pay on time the electric bill or pay an additional therapy.

Do not undermine all the birthdays and Holidays she just sat there, blanked faced, completely unaware of what the hell was going on.  Do not undermine all the nights I lay in bed wondering where the fuck I went wrong?  What the hell was gonna happen to her if I would die?  How on earth was I gonna survive the week?

Do not undermine all the days I had to nearly kill someone at the Department of Education to get what the kid deserved.  Do not undermine the tears, the screams, the frustrations, from the kid and from me.

Do not undermine the kid's summer of 2011 where she had a horrible set back and refused to leave the house for the entire summer due to being terrified of getting sick; such paranoia that led her to vomit and want to hurt herself.  Do not undermine the fact that she takes 2 different pills to cope. Do not undermine that a couple of months ago she ripped out her eyebrows, again.

So, it is not all in my head. Lord knows I wish it wasn't.  And though I am comforted by the fact that she is better and most people that do not know cannot tell, I can.  Just today I noticed how she still cannot alternate her feet climbing or walking down stairs or get metaphorical jokes, or how she broke down in hysterics because she could not complete a simple one instruction task I gave her, which was getting something from the kitchen.

I can see it and I know how hard it has been.  For both of us.
So next time someone wants to undermine and doubt what we've gone through, I will let them know.

We have been through hell and back, and hell and back and hell and back....and there is no for sure way to know how this story ends, but it is Non Fiction and it happened to me and lots of other parents...and that is never to be undermined.


So today I received a Multimedia Message on my phone.  You know the one with Gene Wilder, as Willy Wonka?  Where he says something smart ass along the lines of:

"So you...." blah blah....

you got to know the one, cause there are tons of them all over the place.
Well this one started off with the sentence, and I am gonna repeat it for the sake of writing, because believe me kiddos, I would rather not repeat this one...."So you have big tits...."

Insert long ass pause here.
Insert bewildered, whatthehellano face in here.

I mean, we are all adults, and I received some cray-cray texts and pics from my female friends and we kid around a lot...but this, coming from a member of the opposite sex; a member whom I don't consider in my inner circle of "ifyougetarrestediwilljoinyouintheslammer" friends.

I, the woman with a thousand words and quick wit, was astonished.  Flabbergasted.  Offended.

Should I answer and how?


It was all I could conjure that could every so eloquently speak my mind.

I was immediately accused of having no sense of humor.

Dude, do I look like I'm 17 and shop at Hot Topics?  I am a woman...a grown ass woman.  You are a grown ass man.  Ever wonder why you're still single?  Hint, muthableepin', hint.

I have a sense of humor, a dark, dry, sense of humor, but alas, I do have one.
I can be witty, funny, charming, comical.

I like humor.
I don't like crass.

There is a difference.

"CRASS".  There is a reason "ASS" is in that word.  It ain't no coincidence.

So I curse you technological Gods for creating Multimedia Messages and giving people the sense that crass and vulgar and cheap, equals funny messages to share with people you don't barely see or hang out with.

And I thank you because in that same world, I can choose to unfriend and delete such crud and block further bodily parts and function jokes from every invading my space.

I have bodily parts and functions...but my ASS has CLASS.

That's the difference.

The Scientist

So there was a time I could not listen to Coldplay's "The Scientist" without completely breaking down.  It was automatic. I heard that song and I would just crumble.  I would be driving and had to contain myself to avoid looking like a raccoon once I arrived to work, or school, or wherever   Sometimes I even played it when I needed a good cry.  Just to get it out of my system.  I would, as in the video, go back, rewind and reminisce; of all that has gone to shit.

My relationship with Vader, Vietnam, the kid's Autism, my crappy job that I justify with "it pays the bills", relationships gone bad, sour, wrong, lost...all the disasters a human can collect throughout their existence.

I would go back and try to pinpoint the exact, precise moment it all went to hell; trying to see what I did that made it all go wrong, since I have always believed, that since I am the common denominator in all the scenarios, I must have some kind of partial responsibility.  Maybe if I tried more, maybe if I was less stressed during my pregnancy, maybe if I was nicer, smarter, quieter....enough maybe's to haunt you two lifetimes and back again.

But today, today as I sat and drove and listed to The Scientist, I was bewildered. I did not cry.  I did not even make an attempt to tear up.  Nothing, zilch, nada.  I realized I was so over so many things.  Over the drama with Vader and Vietnam, over Autism and all the crap it carries along, over relationships that don't have a point being remembered, unless it is to give you a swift kick in the ass so you don't forget your errors.  I was over it.  I was over it for today.

That doesn't mean that all will be well; that my relationship with Vader will be mended, or that all will be peachy with the kid; doesn't mean I will be happy-go-lucky everyday on my way to work.  It just means...that as they come, I will deal and when I'm done dealing, on to the hanging around for second blows or being masochistic and rewinding every single event to pinpoint my faults.  

It would be so easy to "just go back to the start"....but "no body said it was easy"....and I'm done with the instant replays...what's done is done...and I'm feeling so much more like "Paradise" right about now....

Braving the Cold Weather

"It's cold out there" 

I had not heard a more accurate or real as hell phrase that so bravely and so boldly expressed in a nutshell what the dating world is...or relationships in general.

It is a cold, cold world as Gza would say.

Dating is hard. Dating with a kid is harder. Wanting to date, is a whole 'nother story.

I am single, by choice. I don't mean that in a cocky manner. It's not like I have a line outside my door of suitors wanting to date me (though I should, cause I am awesome)....all jokes aside...I have had my share of experiences in the dating world and have found some interesting, good people. Just not interesting, good people for me. 

Truth is, I still cannot come to terms with giving up control. But even as I sit and type this and even if I say in millions of conversations that all is swell and that I love my liberty...

I realized this past New Year's Eve, that I got cold, I got the chills. As the clock struck twelve and my lil' brother kissed his wife, I couldn't help but feel a bit cheated. I bit like, has this world gone mad? My little brother has a relationship. And I by choice, have decided to stay on the sidelines. I scrambled as far away as I could, in a room, and couldn't help fight a couple of tears as Empress called and told me "it will be better". 

So I am at this crossroad. Do I want it to be better? Do I wanna take the chance? Can I bare exposing myself and risk becoming one of THOSE people I loathe at times? The ones who talk all giddy about their other half and seem, at times, like conjoined twins. I did that and in retrospective realized I had lost myself; and am back on the road to recovery. 

So, yes, it does get cold out there. Yes, there are times I might feel like maybe I'm missing out and that I am walking a very thin line to becoming the crazy cat lady but then again, maybe I won't. Maybe there is a happily every after, with a conjoined twin...or not... 

 Either way, I brought my sweater, if it gets chilly, I'm ready. 

 Always ready.

The new black

It has been a long ass time. Too long to be quite exact. Funny how when we get involved with other beings we forget the things we most loved to do. In my case, write. A little older, a lot more wise and supremely more kick ass...Mary is back. So bare with me while I get this all updated and up and going once more.... Back is the new black. Fresh is the new 2013.

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