Author: Outrunning my demons

Real life Tetris 

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What is easier, training for a marathon or blogging about painful events in my life? In analysis, they both take approximately the same amount of time per week. I would say, without a doubt, that training for a marathon is much easier. I only feel tired and perhaps physically sore after running. I feel tired, sometimes upset, depressed, and emotionally sore after blogging. 

Is there anybody out there? Am I all alone? Where have the other siblings of the disabled gone? Have you escaped? Have I not? How can I? Why can’t I? I don’t want to do this anymore. It is too personal. The feelings are too raw. I am picking away at old poorly healed scabs. This worries me. 

I feel very overwhelmed in general. I was just notified of mandatory practices for my kids at school the next couple of weeks that conflict with other mandatory practices. When do I have time to work? What about work? We are picking up our biggest client ever the end of this week. It is great, but overwhelming. Will I be able to perform? Will I be able to handle the work? I feel like I am playing Tetris right now. Pieces falling haphazardly on other pieces and nothing fits. I am fighting to stay in control. I worry about the things I can’t control. Am I all alone?

Up north, part 3

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This past weekend I was up north with my daughters. Luke’s wife, Emily, and I threw a bridal shower for Mark’s fiancé, Carla. This is the start of another strange happening this month. Emily recently had surgery and was having some health issues related to this. She ended up driving herself to the closest ER an hour away from the cabin after a sleepless night. I was running later than I wanted to the morning of the shower and had a lot of errands to run. Through a series of strange events, I ran into my sister-in-law at the pharmacy in the middle of nowhere hours from her house. My daughter rode back with her to the cabin to help keep her alert. It seemed like a bizarre coincidence and I still don’t know why things happened that way. 

It was lunch time when we all got to the cabin. Luke bought some bread to make sandwiches with the peanut butter that was there. First, he had to call our mom to make sure that this was not Matt’s peanut butter. I had almost forgotten about this very basic rule. Most of Matt’s food was labeled with his name. You did not dare eat Matt’s food without facing the wrath of my mom. Since he spent most of his life gluten and dairy free, his food a lot of times was separate from ours. If Luke put the knife in the peanut butter and touched the bread, then it would be considered contaminated. My dad would eat Matt’s food a lot of times probably just to piss off my mom. She would worry endlessly about food for Matt to the point of obsession. 

Another thing that happened, the last time we were up north my brothers put in an A/C unit. It was really hot this weekend so we were running it with a lot of fans. We had 13 people sleeping in the cabin. Matt came out to the porch angry saying that the fans were too loud, that he couldn’t sleep. My initial response was to ask Matt how long he was trying to sleep. Luke agreed. Mark was concerned that Matt would be up all night worrying. Mom went with Matt to turn off all the fans. Now no one would be able to sleep. Luke turned the fans back on after Matt fell asleep.  Luke said, “Part of this is his condition and part of this is his conditioning.” Matt never had any consequences, seems like we all had the consequences for his decisions. I felt the familiar old resentment towards my mom for allowing Matt to be the god of our lives. The god we sacrificed to day in and day out. Sacrificing the good of all for the sake of one. I hated being forced to worship and kneel before the alter of autism. 

The bridal shower went without a hitch. Haha. The future bride left saying, “See you at the wedding, if there still is one.” Mark and Carla spent most of the weekend fighting. Everyone at the shower said that Mark and Carla reminded them of my parents. That is not a compliment. My parents marriage is filled with strife. It is not something sacred, to be yearned for. I worry. My husband says I should only worry about the things I can control. 

Marathon training, week 10

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I’m back on the road again after taking off a week due to an ankle injury. I ran 6 miles on this very hot and humid day. I felt fine with no pain even after having to jump out of the way to avoid stepping on a huge toad. I spent a lot of time reflecting. If you haven’t noticed already, I am a person who has hard core determination, a stubborn iron will, and impressive self-control. It has been a great strength and great weakness, as most gifts are. The greatest strength that comes out of this is my ability to follow a rigorous training schedule. I have noticed over the past year that this really gives me a competive edge. This is a gift, I have found, that few people have. 

The weaknesses of this are that I can be judgmental. If I can eat only one potato chip and you eat the whole bag, then I am critical of you. It gives me an “if I can do it why can’t you” mentality. This makes me feel frustrated and resentful. It is wrong for me to expect perfection from others and perhaps myself. My husband once said that even if Jesus came back, he wouldn’t be perfect enough for me. I don’t think this was a compliment. This gift also makes me stupid. If I didn’t get injured last week, I would have ran 24 miles outside on an extremely hot and humid day. So, in essence, being injured saved me from my worst enemy, myself. 

I thought a lot today about decisions we make and predestination. I tend to believe that things happen for a reason. I have been asked if I believe this, then why do bad things happen to good people. I don’t know. But I have experienced being upset at leaving late only to find out that if I left on time I could have been involved in a fatal accident. Maybe that has happened to you too. Other things have happened this month, such as rescuing a man on the water. We weren’t even supposed to be sailing on that day at that time. Due to an unplanned string of events, we were there and may have saved that man’s life. I have to believe that happened for a reason. 

A driving controlling fear

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Mom is a good driver. I usually feel safe when she is in control. My dad likes to drive really fast. He says that we don’t have to wear our seat belts. I feel safer when it is on especially when we go over bumps and my head almost touches the roof. Bumps always make the seat belt tighter around my waist and I have to take it off to loosen it. I think that my dad learned to drive from Aunt Grace, except she drives really slow and goes through the stop signs. 

When mom drives she has to be careful. If she puts Mark and Luke next to each other they like to laugh and do funny things while she is driving, like open the door. The day it happened she wasn’t being careful. She put Matt in the seat behind her and she was wearing a ponytail. Matt likes to pull hair, sometimes very hard. I worry that Matt might pull her hair so hard that her head will go back and we will go off the road.  I am sitting in the back with Matt. Matt starts pulling mom’s hair. Gentle tugs. 

Matt pulls mom’s hair. It is loud in the car. Tug, pull. It is hot, the windows are open. It is loud. Tug, pull. Cars are coming down off of the highway. It is hot! Mom drives through a red light. It is loud, hot, a long ponytail of hair!  Mom keeps honking her horn. Loud, loud! Cars slam on their brakes and swerve. 

My little brothers giggle and can’t wait to tell everyone that mom ran a red light. “Did I just run a red light?” asks mom. “Oh my gosh, I could have killed someone.” Mom is upset and pulls the car into an empty parking lot. Matt is upset and runs away towards traffic. Good thing mom was able to catch him before he reaches the busy street. Mom is a good driver. Mom needs control. I need control. 

Fear tires

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A strange car pulls into the driveway. Inside an elderly man and a woman about my mom’s age. The car is shiny and new. The man drives. Matt is afraid of the tires. Mom says it is her old college roommate. Matt screams and kicks the tires. The man and woman stare out the window at us. Matt screams and throws gravel at the car. Mom tells them that her life has changed and it would be best if they leave. Matt is uncontrollable. The strange car backs out of the driveway, never to return. Mom cries for a long time. 

Losing my best friends

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I lived in one of “those” houses. You know the one. It was a house that a lot of my friends weren’t allowed to go to but I was always welcome at their house. I was invited into the popular group for a little while but that didn’t work out too well for me. I had an issue with conforming to narrow and limiting group norms AND I lived in one of “those” houses. I did have a best friend in high school I will name Shelly. Her parents only let her leave the house to go to school and to walk down to the store to buy them cigarettes. My second best friend was Mary and she was one of 13 kids in her house. Her parents didn’t seem to notice if she was home or not. So this worked!

When Shelly was 17, she was allowed to come over to my house once. She got home an hour late that day. By the time I took her home, the police were there because her parents listed her as a runaway. Shelly was one of those quiet girls that never got into trouble. When she turned 18, she moved in with us. My mom didn’t charge her rent because she didn’t have a job. She did have to help clean the house, which was no easy task because my parents are practically hoarders. At 19, Shelly got married and I was her maid of honor. 

Shelly was having a hard time finding a job right out of high school. My mom got her a job as Matt’s teachers aide. After 3 years of being “kicked out of school” for his violent and aggressive behavior, Matt was transitioned back in. He still was angry and would lash out if forced to do schoolwork. At this time, I was going to college and was roommates with Mary. I was soon to meet my future husband who lived in the apartment below mine. 

Over time, Matt was still having issues in school. He kept attacking Shelly and pulled her hair. Matt’s teacher convinced Shelly to press charges against Matt because he didn’t have any consequences for his behavior. The next time Matt attacked Shelly at school, she called the police. The police came to the school and arrested Matt with the charge of assault. At this time, I was engaged to Paul. My mother was devastated as she picked Matt up from the police station. I was torn between my best friend and my family. Mary was torn between Shelly and I. It was a big, fricken mess. 

After several months of legal issues, Matt was found incompetent to face the charges brought against him and they were dropped. He has the mind of a 7 year old. He does not read or write. He can’t do simple math. I lost my 2 best friends. They didn’t come to my wedding. That is why, parents, you should not have your child’s friends be caregivers! It was a very hard time for me. I haven’t talked to Shelly in almost 2 decades and Mary for at least a decade. People sometimes ask me if I have any friends from high school. Did you just drift apart over time? Yes, it was something like that. 

The cure for autism, part 9

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It started out the way these things usually do. My contractions were 2 minutes apart. I was due on my birthday and it was that week. The contractions didn’t lead anywhere and neither did the pitocin induced labor. I left the hospital the next day with an empty car seat. The nurses joked on my way out that they would see me later that day. Didn’t happen. 

The following week, I made it in to my appointment. I was now a week overdue and the doctor said it looked like a big baby. They scheduled to induce me again early the next morning. Another day of pitocin induced labor with no results until they broke my water. But they wouldn’t break my water until what seemed like 10 medical students got to feel my cervix. Then started the 2 hours of pushing without the urge to push. The baby never made it into the birth canal and was showing signs of stress. Stop pushing your baby could get stuck in the birth canal, sign these forms, and off to the surgical room. Seventeen years ago today ushered in the birth of Angelique Hope, 8lbs 13 oz. 

My mom said that this baby was going to finally pull Matt out of himself, a new cure for autism. Matt was an uncle for the first time. 

I graduated from college in May, got married in August, and was pregnant by October. After a fruitless job search, I decided to do what I did off and on for my whole life, be Matt’s caregiver this time with Angel. My mom and Matt became obsessed with Angel, the only difference was Matt’s obsession was dark.  Angel grew into a beautiful and happy little girl. I should have seen it coming, but I was blinded by optimism. 

It happened on Angel’s 4th birthday at her party. Angel wanted everyone to watch her dance around and sing. Matt said, “Everybody watch this” and proceeded to grab Angel’s arm and start twisting. Paul and Luke had to struggle to get Matt off of Angel. My mom was screaming not to hurt Matt. Luke took Matt home. Matt muttered to himself for hours, evil laughter and delight that he obeyed whatever voices where telling him to hurt her. Thankfully, Angel was not seriously hurt. 

I had now entered the second most difficult period of my life. After this happened, we decided to cut Matt out of our life for awhile. I couldn’t stand to watch my own children get hurt the way I was. This also cut my mom out of my life because Matt still lived at home and they were always together. For a period of about five years, I lost all support from my family and felt very alone. 

Still no cure. 

Marathon training, week 9

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I won’t be running 24 miles this week. Yes, you did hear me right. I injured myself. I wish I could say that I hurt myself doing something heroic, like rescuing another sailor lost at sea. Or possibly something daring or exciting that few of you would be brave enough to try. But it was something mundane that got me. I guess I was worried about the wrong things. Even if I put myself in a completely protective bubble, I would still risk tripping over my own two feet. 

I was looking for my youngest daughter to tell her that supper was ready last night. I couldn’t find her anywhere. I quickly climbed two steps on her bunk bed ladder and only went down one rolling my ankle as I missed the last rung. My ankle is swollen and sore, but I think I should be back on my feet by next week. Maybe the end of this week if I’m really lucky. 

I’ve heard that pride comes before a fall. I admit I am guilty! My kids are still limping around the house after the 5k. I limped around a day or two after the half marathon, but didn’t have to recover from the 5k or 10k. I am stronger than everyone in my house. I am a better runner. Aahhhhhhhh as I fall down the stairs and end up limping up and down them like everyone else. Oh damn the limits of being a mere mortal! 

It could be worse. I found out this past weekend that my runner cousin injured his foot so bad that he can’t even walk on it for a month. He was one of the people that was instrumental in me starting this blog about running, even though I spend more time talking about the things that I am out running. Lol. It is hard to think about your run being over, but I feel good that with some rest I will be back on the road again soon. 

Midwest (wild)life

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This picture exemplifies life in our state. I was driving to work when I saw this majestic eagle sitting on a deer next to an empty 12 pack of beer. I didn’t have my camera so I grabbed my cell phone and got a few shots. I was about 6 feet away from the eagle. He wasn’t moving and I got this eerie respect for his great size.

This is my National Geographic gone bad picture.