by Band Back Together | Oct 10, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Attention-Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, Denial, Developmental Milestones, Family, Feelings, Help with Parenting, How To Help A Parent With a Special Needs Child, Impulse Control Disorders, Individualized Education Plan, Parenting, Special Needs Parenting |
In kindergarten, my daughter was singled out by her “crazy old lady/about to retire” teacher who said Maddie was “very inattentive and probably needed to be evaluated for ADD.”
I was all, “this women has a whole SEVEN kids to look after with a damn assistant! She obviously is lacking and totally sucks at life to not be able to handle SEVEN kids and she’s the one who needs to be evaluated. “
Unable to even fathom such a thing for my perfect little princess, I took her out of the expensive private school and started first grade in the public school. The local school a few blocks away is really new and great and shiny!
First grade began, and she seemed to be doing well until our first Parent/Teacher conference. Once again, ADD was brought up by her very young, energetic teacher.
Again, I couldn’t wrap my brain around this possibility. My daughter was so caring and sweet and there was no way in living hell there was something wrong with her!
But I relented, and took her to see the pediatrician armed with a heavy dose of internet literature regarding the scary ADD possibility. What I didn’t expect was to identify with most of the symptoms listed on the checklist.
So, with a heavy heart, I accepted that yes, my little angel was indeed struggling in school. She was beginning to show signs of a low self-esteem as a result of her poor behavior. She was showing the insensitiveness that comes with a child with ADD. She was unable to see how others may feel. She was pretty self-centered.
I waved my White Flag and tried to stop feeling sorry for myself or guilty for something I could have done to prevent this from happening. I gave up the idea that my daughter would be a stellar student and be the top of her class. I mourned (seriously GRIEVED) the possibilities I had built up all through her early years of how magnificent she would surely be. I shed real tears and experienced a heartbreak that I didn’t think was possible.
I felt extremely defeated until I buckled down and became her advocate. I fought long and hard to get her school to become involved in her special education program that would work for her. I went full speed ahead with every behavior modification the school could provide that might make a sliver of a difference.
Over the years, she was given an Individualized Education Plan (IEP) with in-school modifications for test-taking and a more thorough explanation for her assignments. Her seat was moved in order to minimize distractions and although she continued to struggle, she was really improving.
Along with the modifications, we began trying medication. I was overjoyed when we finally found one that really helped her without the harsh side effects. This process was heartbreaking, but we found the one that works for her and for this I am grateful.
So now, here we are in the fifth grade. Report card comes home and finally there are mostly B’s on it. There are two C’s, but compared to last year when she was mostly C’s and D’s this was such an amazing moment for me and her to see everything we were doing was paying off!
I was so excited that I wanted to dance around the room; this was not something that I am used to. This was something that has taken so long. I didn’t even it was possible to see a report card such as the one she got today.
After saying all of this, maybe you can understand why, after sharing with you my pure bliss, I would be upset when you complain to me, a whopping two minutes later, about the one B your daughter received on her report card when every other grade was an A. How I got frustrated, left the room and didn’t want to show you my daughter’s report card.
I do not make this a competition, as you so rudely accused me of. I would never have those sort of expectations for my daughter after every hurdle we have been through to get her to this point. That would just be unrealistic.
I know that your daughter is two years younger than mine and is enrolled in all advanced math and reading classes. I know that she is a very bright little girl and I would never ever try to diminish that! But I had a happy moment and you just don’t understand how complaining about that one B would make me feel. Here I was rejoicing all the B’s that were on Maddie’s report card and you were looking down on that very same grade; the one flaw on your daughter’s perfect grades.
So, just when I think we know everything about each other I suppose you don’t really know the entire story of the ADD path. And I don’t even know how to make you understand.
When you told me I was turning it in to a competition, it felt like a slap in my face. It showed me that your perception of me is way off. So now what? How do I make this better? After three and half years together, I love you. But I need you to be on my team with this. Not accuse me of a competition.
I wanted you to jump up and down with me and celebrate this victory.
by Band Back Together | Oct 1, 2015 | Fear, Self Injury, Stress, Teen Self Injury |
There are some days where I feel like telling someone about my cutting. There we times where I am standing next to my parents or teacher and wanting to tell them but I chicken out. I think I am afraid of the consequences of how people might react or what will happen after I tell them.
Please, if you have any knowledge or experience of self harm, answer these questions:
How do I know if what I am doing is cutting or self harm?
How do I finally tell someone I am cutting?
How do I know if I am cutting for attention?
Thank you guys so much for the support. Last time I posted, I was ten days clean from cutting (if what I’m doing really is cutting). Sadly, I cannot boast this anymore. I am under 15, and going through a lot of the stress that comes with 8th grade and high school. Two days ago, I cut small lines in to my skin from the beginning of my hip to just below my ribs. I can tell you that I had one hell of a time not showing the cuts when changing during PE. Please answer my questions or give advice.
by Band Back Together | Sep 25, 2015 | Compulsive Lying, Guilt, Love, Uncategorized |
Hello to all. I’m new to The Band. It looks like a great place to seek help, advice, and to have someone who will listen and not judge you.
I have known that I was a compulsive liar for years, but I never thought that it was actually something that was ruining my life. Compulsive lying is an underlying psychotic disorder that can be a sign of something much larger. I began to do some research about this, reading a lot of articles and websites. I had been thinking I was the only person having a hard time with lying, but I started seeing that this disorder is real, other people have it, and it is very serious. The messages written by other people on this site, as well as other websites, gave me hope.
At first, I thought I could really change on my own, but I’m realizing that being a compulsive liar is like an abdication. Some people may really need help to get past this point in their lives. I feel like I am to that point. My first course of action is admitting that I’m a compulsive liar, and that I need to seek help.
It’s so bad that sometimes I don’t even have a clue why I lie. It just comes out without hesitation. Most of the time, when it happens, at the back of my mind, I’m asking myself why I lied. The truth would have been easier to say in the first place. When I have a chance to correct the lie, I can’t because I feel so guilty. I don’t want to admit I’m wrong, or that I just told a lie.
The worst part is that I lie to the one person I love the most. That hurts me more than anything.
Today is the day. I’m going to keep searching for help and with my disorder and try my best to speak the truth, no matter what. If anyone who has gone through this has any advice on how to get past this, I’m all ears. And to anyone who is reading this, if my story is hitting home, please seek help. Know that you are not the only one out there going through this problem. You are not the only compulsive liar in the world. Help is there, you just have to want it.
Until next time, thanks for reading and responding. I’m turning my life around one truth at a time.
by Band Back Together | Sep 25, 2015 | Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Depression, Guilt, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Illness Stigma, Sadness, Shame, Stress |
Many parents struggle with mental illness. She wonders if she should’ve had kids at all.
This is her story:
For as long as I can remember, I have been a touch crazy. I have suffered from anxiety and depression most of my life.
I was five years old when I had my first panic attack. Only five! I also worry about absurd things; I know they are absurd but I can’t stop worrying.
But now, it’s worse. I don’t remember it ever being this bad. In the last month alone, I have suffered six nervous breakdowns and I wonder what is wrong with me?
WHY am I SO FREAKING CRAZY!?
But what makes it worse is my children. I don’t want them to suffer with me. I don’t want them to know I am this way. I don’t want to mark them or make them afraid for me or themselves. I try to keep it all bottled up and away from them so they don’t really know I am suffering. The only people who know are my husband and my mother, and they aren’t always a huge help. My husband thinks that I should just suck it up and deal. That’s not easy to do. My mother tries very hard to understand what I am going through and help me because I know she watched my grandma suffer at times quietly just like me.
My grandma’s suffering hurt my mom, and that’s what scares me. What if I think I am suffering quietly but my children know? But how could they not? Sometimes a shower is more than I can bear and getting out of the same pajamas I have worn the last three days just doesn’t seem possible.
So they have to know right? Hell, they are 8,7, and 5; not exactly babies. My eldest has Asperger Syndrome and this ridiculously genius IQ; if any of them could figure it out would probably be her. I am so scared of them knowing. I don’t want to be crazy mommy who has meltdowns. I want my children to know me as happy and loving. I know I am loving, but I’m not always happy. And I don’t EVER want them to think it’s because of them. So do I talk to them? Do I explain to them, this is what is going on with mommy?
It’s not you it’s me? God I hate that.
Are they old enough to know?
Or should I leave them in their little children bubbles? Am I hurting them being this way?
Do you think they know?
My next biggest worry and fear is this: in my children I see some of my crazy. My eccentricities, if you will. My eldest, who has Asperger Syndrome, has her own eccentricities. But my son (whom I did not birth) also has these eccentricities, a touch of my OCD, and the anxiety (who could blame him with a mother like his; heck, thinking about me probably makes him sick and nervous). But my youngest daughter scares me the most. She is a very nervous child who worries just like I did. She is scared of so much. She has OCD already at five. No panic attacks yet, but I fear it may only be a matter of time. This bothers me more than I can say. I feel like I did this to her. I feel responsible and God help me I don’t want her to grow up like this. I don’t want her to suffer like I have. I want her to be well and happy and not have fears of irrational things. Therapy is an option.
It didn’t always do me much good, but at times it really does help.
But what kind of mother, who knows she has these illnesses, brings children into the world when they may end up just like her?!
This is my struggle.
Am I bad parent for bringing them into my crazy existence?
How do I handle my crazy so I don’t mark my children? How do I handle my mental health without scaring them?
by Band Back Together | Sep 12, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Coping With Depression, Denial, Depression, Dermatillomania, Eating Disorders, Fear, Guilt, How To Help A Loved One Who Self-Injures, How To Help With Low Self-Esteem, Impulse Control Disorders, Major Depressive Disorder, Mental Illness Stigma, Self Injury, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem, Stress, Trauma, Trichotillomania |
Prankster, my heart goes out to you. I wish that I could wrap you up in a big hug so that you knew that you were loved. Because you are so loved. You are worth everything. I know that telling you that you need to stop won’t help and will further reinforce all that you do to yourself, so I won’t, but I am reading what you don’t say here, and it breaks my heart. You are worth saving. You can fight your dragon and you can win. Someday you will win.
We will be here waiting to celebrate when you do.
Much, much love,
Aunt Becky
I’m a sucker for it. And I could speculate about all the things that have caused it. My childhood wasn’t great. I’ve dealt with depression and all the shit it brings. I’m impulsive… but I have this feeling, deep down inside, that it’s just the way I’m wired.
The first time it happened I was 14, angry and frustrated and it just made sense. The scissors were right there… and just like that, an addiction was born. I was a cutter. I self-injured.
Of course, 14 year-olds aren’t the most logical thinkers, so I got ‘caught’. We did the whole therapy deal with a crappy counselor and I was expected to stop immediately, so I did.
But I wasn’t stupid. Since the age of 15, I’ve been dealing with an eating disorder. I’ve seen 2 shrinks since the first, and neither know about my eating disorder.
As with all addictions, I’ll never be cured. I never truly stopped, but my parents like to think I did, so I let them. I just got better at hiding it.
While I don’t cut nearly as often as I use to, I picked up a nice little friend, named trichotillomania (self-pulling of hair). It’s so great [sarcasm].
This would be one reason I think it’s instilled in me, I don’t want to give it up. It’s mine, all mine, and I don’t have to share it with anyone, which feels great.
So, maybe the day will come and I’ll be ready to give up the ghost. And if it does, I’ll come back, and I’ll let all of you know.
by Band Back Together | Sep 10, 2015 | Anger, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Fear, How To Cope With Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Stress, Trauma |
I’m still seeing the therapist for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, but I am also seeing a Crystal therapist as well, every other week. (I can’t even begin to explain this – but if you’re curious – Google Crystal Sessions, Alexander Method, Natural Shock Healing or dark magic…er, scratch that…that won’t help.)
Unfortunately, there are still days when I can tell it isn’t gone. I’m not sure what I thought, but I think it was something like ”This Shit Will Be Over By Summer, RIGHT?”
Sometimes something as simple as a favorite TV show – (Brothers & Sisters to be exact) can send me into a full-blown anxiety attack – and push the reality of a tragedy back into my life as fast as I had swept it under the rug. And don’t underestimate me, I am pretty damn good as pushing dirt under rugs. Just ask my husband…
::Can I just take a slick city minute to say to the writers of Brothers & Sisters…whoa. I think you got your point across. As I stood on my back patio gasping for air and bawling my eyes out, I realized you people need to find hobbies. Something other than thinking of ways to make innocent, crazy, stressed-out TV addicts freak the hell out. ::steps off my soapbox::
Back to my point.
I am happy to report that there are days that go by where I feel like life is back to normal. There are moments in time where I feel myself forgetting about the fear.
Here recently, I’ve had several people ask what exactly my “bad days” look like? So, I thought I’d take a moment and explain what it feels like to always think the bottom is about to fall out.
Because really, that’s what it boils down to for me. I have days where I can pretend like bad things happen to other people. But, those days creep in, where I can’t help but think that too much time has passed between “bad things happening to me” and I am due.
There really is only one moment of every.single.day (approximatey 7:50 a.m. Nice way to start the day, eh?) that really has be stumped.
I pull into the school parking lot and I feel my heart begin to beat just a tad bit faster…and then my mind starts to race…and then my breaths become faster…and I pretend to be cool as a cucumber (whatever that means) and say goodbye to my son, I kiss him, I hug him and I watch him as he walks through the front doors. Slowly, I pull out of the drop off lane and I pull into a parking spot.
There – every single day, I have a brief panic attack. Without fail.
I am used to it now. Really, I am.
The tears only last about a minute or two. I regroup, adjust my eyeliner and go about my business. Ready to take on the world. It’s not as bad as it used to be. But, the thoughts are still there. I still think,
”Was that the last time I will ever kiss his warm cheek? “
“Was that the last time I ever see him alive?”
“Will someone come into the school today with a gun? Is this the day?”
And then I tell myself that I can’t let this fear control me. I can’t let Satan in my life, in my thoughts & in my heart. I push my fears aside every morning and I stop and thank God that I just watched my happy, healthy son, walk into school on two legs, with some pep in his step. I thank my lucky stars. And I continue my commute.
And even though this still happens every morning, the effect it has on me is shortening. And I know that this isn’t going to define me, control me or even cross my mind in the future. I may never be the same as I was prior to July 19, 2009, and that’s okay. I would dare to say that I am not supposed to be.
But, I can tell you that PTSD may linger with me the rest of my life, but it will not present itself every day. I know that. And that gives me hope.
