Thursday, July 31, 2014

He's Too Concrete

The other day, Super Hero and I were driving home from errands.  It's always a risk to have any sort of conversation in a moving vehicle with a deaf person.  Not only can they miss very important signs, they can veer off the road. ;-)  Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode with Kramer as he's "interpreting" what Marlee Matlin signs?  Marlee's character can lipread and signs what she sees this couple across the room saying.  Her character gets the information correct, but Kramer totally screws up the "interpreting" part.  The hilarious part is, although "sweep together" and "sleep together" look similar when spoken, the signs look nothing alike.  So only a person that knows both languages understands how stupid it is that Kramer gets it all messed up.

That's kinda what a conversation with a deaf engineer looks like.  I want to give you context for our conversation, but it really ruins the true beauty of how illogically concrete our conversation was.

Me:  What's your interview for?
Him: A job.
Me: I Know that.  But where?
Him:  At home.
Me: No.  I know it's a PHONE interview.  Where is the JOB?
Him:  I have no idea.
Me:  You have no idea?  You're interviewing for a job and you have no idea where the job is?
Him:  Yes.  I'm tired of interviewing.  So I figure when I finally get a job, then I'll worry about where it is.


This conversation happens  in bursts of two or three words because he has to watch the road.  Which becomes even more frustrating because then I'm not sure which signs he has seen.  So, do I repeat myself, or keep going?

As we're driving home (the person was supposed to call at 1 p.m., ), he keeps pointing to the clock on the dashboard.

Him: It's 12:56!

We keep driving.  I notice him looking at the clock some more.

Him: It's 12:58!  We're going to be late.

More driving.  I think the slowest person in the world is in front of us.  Super Hero points that out, too.

Him:  (Pointing to the clock, in case I wasn't paying attention before) It's 12:59!
Me: Yes, it is.

Drive.  Drive.  Drive.  We haven't pulled into our house quite yet, and....

Him:  (pointing to the clock) It's 1:00!  We're late!  I KNEW it.  I KNEW we'd be late.
Me:  I doubt this guy's waiting by his phone to dial it at 1 p.m.  We're fine.

He runs into the house to where the video phone is set up.  Phew.  No missed calls.  He sits there for the next 20 minutes waiting for the phone to ring so he can answer his TV.  Nothing.  He decides to get up and make lunch.  I'm sitting in the living room, looking at my phone.  He's making himself lunch and all of a sudden yells "shoot!" and runs into the schoolroom.

Him:  Why didn't you TELL ME that the phone was ringing?!!
Me:  Because I didn't HEAR the phone ringing.

See that wonderful logic happening here?  I'm the hearing person.  I'm supposed to hear everything.
So, like most problems in the house, the wife/mother gets blamed and she doesn't even have to be in the same room.   It's all good.  He got his phone interview.  He got his lunch.  And he might get an in person interview.  He finds that out next week.

Oh - and the job is in Vancouver.  So.  Now you know.


Saturday, July 26, 2014

Things Fall Apart

A little over a week ago I got a call from Holland's residential placement.  His team was on "shut down", which meant that all the boys in his group (about 8) had been put on a status that required the strictest supervision.  The staff had determined that the boys had not been following the peer feedback and accountability.  There were also boys that were teasing Holland, causing him to react inappropriately and then they would call him out on his behavior.  He would not accept their feedback and the cycle would repeat.  The team had to go through three stages in order to rebuild their accountability to each other and be able to work together again.  They lost a lot of privileges and were not able to make any phone calls until Stage Three.  They had to make amends with each other and each boy had to call his parents and explain his role in the breakdown of the group - "take accountability" for his part in the group's behavior.

I was so excited when I heard the boys had made it to Stage Three.  It sounded like they had pulled it together and were a team again.  On Thursday night I got a call from Holland.  He started his call with, "I'm taking accountability for my part in a member of my team running away."  I was all confused.  I thought we were past Stage One and here he was apologizing for something.  I asked what he was talking about.  His phone calls are limited to five minutes, so I knew I wasn't going to get much information out of him.  He said that he and another boy had planned on running away from the program.  He didn't do it, but the other boy had.  He made it into Portland and was caught (I later found out the boy had turned himself in), and was back in detention.  I asked if Holland would have to go back in detention.  He said he didn't know.  I had a million questions.  I had zero time to ask them.  I wanted to talk to a staff person.  I couldn't - the other boys needed to make their phone calls. 

The next day I was able to get hold of his former PO and find out more of what happened.  She was going out to visit him and discuss the seriousness of his situation.  With Holland's recent diagnosis of autism, I wonder if he has to go in front of a judge again, that his medical diagnosis will be taken into account.  I'm afraid of what will become of him if he is incarcerated.  He will not get the kind of therapy he needs.  If you are reading this, please pray that he does not get removed from his current placement.

I got another call last night and I'm afraid that his time may be over.  He barricaded himself in an upstairs room with a foosball table.  He threw something out a window and when he finally did come out, he ran outside the house.  He said he never left the property, but he still had staff chase him outside.  They discussed his options and I'm doubting that they will want to keep him after this.  I know the program wants to work with him, but when he keeps getting physical like this, he'll be viewed as too much of a threat to the other boys and their safety.






Tuesday, July 15, 2014

THE resume

I just finished writing my resume.  It's not your traditional, boring, typewritten resume.  This thing has got Class.  A friend from my church developed this online, uber-cool way of writing up a resume. It's called Sumry.  You start by answering a bunch of basic questions about yourself and the answers are plugged into a preset form that helps you develop a very unique resume.  It's not just about your skills - it's about who you are.  Why type of person are you?  Your qualifications are as important as your life story.  I love the set up - and I loved writing it.  I wanted to keep writing.  I had to stop myself from writing more.  Geez.  I need to write a book or something.

Here's a link to my Sumry resume.  I'm also working on one for Super Hero.  I figured a year and a half of no job ought to warrant a new kind of approach to job hunting.  Let's freak out all those engineers out there with this new kind of resume!

Saturday, July 12, 2014

Perspective

What is it about perspective that allows us to form opinions about our situation?  If we are experiencing trauma, our perspective can be fraught with pain.  If we are looking at another person's situation, perspective can elicit feelings of empathy, or jealousy or pity.  When we arrive at the other end of that journey, our perspective has now become that of someone arriving at a destination. 

My perspective has changed.  I had a beginning - lots of beginnings.  That's my perspective now.  I look and see there were lots of beginnings.  How did we make it through those beginnings?  There were lots of very difficult places to be in.  Why was there so much trauma?  And pain?  I always think that we somehow got the short end of the stick.  People always say "he was so blessed to get parents like you.".  That's very kind.  I don't feel blessed.  I feel tortured. My perspective in those beginnings was that it was never going to end.  He was never going to get better.  He was going to beat the hell out of our house and our family unit.

I'm in the middle now.   But there are constantly new beginnings in this middle. My perspective now is that there are still beginnings in this middle.  Some are good and some not so good.  We got the dreaded call that he might be sent back to detention (that's juvenile hall for you newbies).  That's not a place you want your son to be.  He's being well taken care of right now.  There are people that understand his neurological and medical needs.  He's watched 24 hours a day and he's held accountable by his peers in the program.  No other placement will have that kind of set up. 

Super Hero and I were on our way to visit him this morning.  We get one visit a week - an hour of time.  We were about 15 minutes early, so I said we should stop at a Starbucks and get him a hot chocolate with a gift card I had.  The store I thought was there had closed, so we had to pull into the parking lot of a nearby mall.  I noticed a message on my phone.  "Your visit has been cancelled.  He's on a safety plan."  We were five minutes from the residence.  I could not get hold of anyone on a Saturday.  We started to drive back home when someone finally responded to a message I left.  Holland had "gone from zero to one hundred in a few seconds.  He responded to a peer about something and threw a glass across the kitchen and picked up other things and threw them as well."  I will not get any more information until his therapist calls me on Monday.  He was able to call and talk to me for his five minutes of allowed phone call time.  He sounded depressed.  He didn't think he was going to last another week.  Didn't see the point of it.  How do you encourage a child that sees no point of continuing such a hard path?  He made bad choices.  He is paying for those choices.

We have another new beginning.  Super Hero got a part time job.  He has been without a full time job for a year and a half.  No engineering job.  He had to take a part time job as an "inventory specialist" at a car rental place at the airport.  I feel it must be so degrading for him to have done that.  And yet I'm so proud of him for doing it.  I want him to be honored for his choice to work to support us.   And my new beginning is going to be finding a job as well.  I've applied for an interpreter job for Portland Public Schools.  With every ounce of my being I do not want to do this.  I don't want the stress of working on top of homeschooling the kids and getting them to church and sports functions.  Worrying about doctor appointments and grocery shopping and therapy appointments with Holland.  Laundry will become something that gets put in a pile, not put away.  I won't be able to work with the kids on school stuff the way I wanted to.  Dinners will be crazy with Super Hero working 3pm -11pm 3 days a week.  

To end all these beginnings, Holland had some testing done by an excellent psychologist.  She has worked with over 300 kids affected in utero by meth.  We finally got an 18 page report from her describing in detail the testing and the results.  Her conclusion was the Holland is Autistic.  The DSM has changed the language in how it diagnoses children.  His is more a social aspect of autism.  But reading this report was like reliving all the moments we had when he was growing up. 

So what is my perspective now?  How do I adjust my thinking from all those years of parenting a child that was improperly diagnosed as bipolar?  What do I think when people complain that they can't have a "normal" life?  What is normal?  Not having hole punched in your wall?  Not locking up remote controls or the pantry so your child doesn't get up at 3 in the morning to play the wii or steal food with gluten in it?  What about not being afraid of your child?  Or not having your other children afraid of that child?  What about being able to go to a store without having to leave a grocery cart in the middle of an aisle because he couldn't handle the word "no".  And he was 12 (and threatening to hit you?)  What about having to change plans - the whole family - because your "bipolar" child refuses to get in the car and go sightseeing?  He wants to stay home and wait for a friend that might call.  I have a hard time with perspective.  Our lives are definitely "easier" now that he is not living with us.  It's calmer here.  There's less tension of feeling like someone is going to get physically hurt.  But how can that perspective be good?  I have a child that doesn't get to live at home.  Other families get to eat dinner together.  Or go on trips together.  I have a hard time even taking a family picture.  My perspective is that someone is missing. 

I raised three children and now I only have two.