just keep swimming

There are always multiple ways to look at circumstances and events in our own life, yet so often it’s easier to get stuck looking at something in just one way. Our brains can absolutely be rewired, but the older we get- the more we get stuck using the same thinking we've always used. 

Neuroplasticity is the brain's ability to change and adapt due to experience. It is an umbrella term referring to the brain's ability to change, reorganize, or even grow neural networks. This can involve functional changes due to brain damage or structural changes due to learning.

It's an amazing concept. By learning new things, we can actually change the structure of our brain. While people used to believe that the brain became fixed after a certain age, newer research has revealed that the brain never stops changing in response to learning.

Every ying has its yang and there is always a flip side. There's ways we can apply that to our own selves.

I’m type A, rule driven, a (trying to be a recovering) perfectionist. But an awful perfectionist because nothing I do is perfect. My head can be an exhausting place to live. Sometimes when I’m lying down watching tv I notice my jaw and hands clenched, even my lips pursed so hard they ache when I let it go. Anxiety is often my wingman. When I screw up- when I forget something- when I don’t follow through I hate myself. I feel shame when I do something wrong. If my room is cluttered I can’t just be. Sometimes I wish I wasn't so uptight.

But guess what- There are so many ways this part of my psyche serves me in life too. I’m organized. My house is tidy. I am very thorough. I don’t usually forget things that I promise or things that need to happen. If I say I'm going to be there I will be there every time. I've always provided a schedule and routine for my boys, important for all kids but especially important with kids with autism spectrum disorder. At times my anxiety morphs into excitement. I love learning new things. I love exploring the world like a child. 

Try and look at the things you criticize yourself for, and then flip that trait over and look at it through a different lens. Your soul will thank you.

Big inhale. (Bigger exhale). Jaw unclench. Shoulders down. Repeat after me: I am most powerful and at peace when I focus on gratitude for my goodness, while better understanding/forgiving the things that I don't love. 

Over the weekend I fell into a deep funk. Sometimes it’s just the shit that we go through as part of being alive. (Whew it’s complicated!- this life gig!) Sometimes it's circumstances. Sometimes it’s brain chemicals (Effexor is also my wingman.) Sometimes it's a mixture. Why I was in a doldrum doesn't matter (and on retrospection is so ridiculously stupid), because we've all been there.

Sometimes feelings are very dramatic things. At least mine are.

And then I feel guilt. I SHOULD be happy. Something is wrong with me because I have such big feelings. I SHOULD be normal. My boys deserve someone who always has their shit together. 

Life is hard for every one of us in moments. It's imperative that we do not forever our moments. They are like bubbles, and bubbles always pop. Sometimes we need a hard reset. At first- that might look like laying in bed all day, taking two naps, eating crappy food and watching too much tv. That was my Saturday. By Sunday I was still deep in my feelings, but I knew I had to crawl out. There's only one way to do that- and that is inch by inch. 

On Sunday, I took a shower. It felt like a marathon. I washed my hair. (Egads- why is an everything shower so hard?!) I got dressed. I put on makeup. I left the house, despite the fact that nothing sounded worse. Parker had a practice swim meet for Special Olympics, and I knew I couldn't miss it. I felt like I was moving wearing 400 lb weights, but I moved. 

Suddenly for the first time in his life, Parker was scared of the deep end of the pool. Parker's nickname is "Danger Doodle" because he isn't scared of anything. Playing with knives? No. Almost burning our house down? No. Eloping and being brought home by a Sheriff not once but twice? Nope! All true stories.

But he was terrified of the deep end. I tried to bribe him. (I'll buy you more VHS tapes! I'll get you a double scoop of ice cream afterwards!) I tried to reason with him. I tried to just make him. 

Finally, it was his turn to swim the 25 meter breast stroke and he stood at the start, frozen in place. My heart was pounding with anxiety. GO PARKER! YOU CAN DO IT! I yelled. But I was DONE. My reserves were at an actual zero, and I had nothing to give him because I was empty. I almost started crying when the starting sound went off because I just wanted to go home and crawl back in bed. 

JUST KEEP SWIMMING.

And so he did. He made it. Imperfectly. Holding onto the side of the pool and slowly scooching down his lane, he made it. In that moment, he did all he was capable of. It wasn't his best in the world, but it was his best in that moment. And now I realize-I did my best too. Definitely not my finer parenting moments, but it was all I was capable of at the time. And that's ok. I'm working on rewiring those neural pathways.

Acting like yourself when you are not feeling like yourself is exhausting. So sometimes all we can do is show up. 

As the day went by I was able to focus on the gifts. I told my amazing new momma friend Angie that I was in a funk and not ok. New people in our proverbial village stepped in. A coach/Dad got in the water and worked so hard to help Parker gain confidence. The whole entire time that he scooched down his lane, the crowd was cheering for Parker. We went out with new friends for ice cream after the meet. 

Photo Cred: AC❤️

Chances are, when I look back on this picture years in the future, I won't remember how hard it was, or how sad I felt. I will just remember the good. I will remember that Parker got into the pool. And I will remember the fact that we both showed up.

the most important letter

Hey Chrissy,

I won't ask, 'How are you?" I already know it's not good, so that's why I'm writing you. 

You think your life is over. You think your children will have a life of relentless pain. You wake up in the morning with an oversized pit of dread churning in your gut- realizing each morning that your actual life isn't just some weird bad dream. This is your new reality.

You feel weak. Confused. Angry. Terrified. Empty. Void. Dead on the inside. All the world's pretty colors were muted and nothing you knew as real and truth will ever be the same. You don't trust yourself, your insight, your stupid Mother's intuition. You think yours is broken. You think this is the end. 

This is the end of the way you see the world now, but that isn't such a bad thing. I can promise you one thing: with every end, comes the start of something, and this is your beginning of your new life. And although your life will be hard, it will also be amazing. When you are ready, you will open the door and walk through it. There is no other way. You will still be scared, it will still be hard, but you will do it. Acceptance is the gateway to happiness.

At around 16 months of age, you started the knowing. The knowing of what you feared all along- your baby Parker was going to follow in Greyson's (sometimes tippy toe) footsteps. Parker is autistic. You can't eat. You can't hope. You can't silver line this cloud. You can taste the anger. Your pleads and prayers to God stopped and turned into rage. WHY ME. WHY HIM. Not even questions, just statements. 

One day, you will be open enough to see WHY. But for now, just sit with me in your feelings. They are so real I can feel them too. It's ok to cry. I'm crying as I write this to you. 

Parker headed to his 1st Speech Therapy Appointment

Parker in Speech Therapy

Parker has been in Speech Therapy for a few months now. He doesn't say any words besides, "Go" and only if you say, "Ready, Set..." first. He is trying to learn how to point, but it's so hard. I see your face when you see kids younger than him out in the world doing it all on their own. You are amazed and bitter all at once. You wonder about his future. All you see is awful. Will he ever speak? Will he be happy? Will he "get" Holidays? Will he go to a regular school? Will he ever have a friend? Will he know math like Rainman? Will people make fun of him? 

You are exhausted. When you sleep, you hold this truth, so heavy. Life is hard and exhausting. It won't always be so difficult. Like Joan of Arc said, You were born to do this.

I want to tell you a story I witnessed today. A story so simple and so perfect, it felt like a dream. I saw your perfect Parker today. Life went forward so fast and he is now 13. He talks! The evaluations and assessments are still stamped with severe communication delay, but for the most part- you will only care about that when you read those damn evals. (You are a pro at it now). On paper Parker is not the best. It will all sound so scary and desolate. After those papers are read, sometimes a few times a year, you will put them in a binder and file them away. Then you lift your eyes from the paper Parker and words and see the real boy- the magical one that God brought into existence 13 years ago. The real Parker.

Trust me, YOU WILL BE AMAZED. My smile is huge as I tell you this. He is at school, and he is thriving. He carries a backpack and has an ipad to do work on just like all the other kids. He will be in a Special Education classroom- but it's ok. It's so much more amazing than you would ever expect it to be. He learns differently- so he has to be taught differently. So many of the things you conjure up as a worst case scenario aren't bad at all. Your perspective on what matters will remarkably shift. That isn't bad- it's a wondrous, incredible thing- to get the opportunity to view the world in a completely new way. Oh Momma, the best part- the most important part- Parker is happy (now we are both crying). HE'S HAPPY! He loves life. He is hilarious. He's creative. He's adventurous. The assessments aren't able to capture the magic of him at all. He falls in love with things like the movie The Titanic, or collecting VHS tapes,or creating crazy contraptions all over the house, and watching and making movies. 

Well today, this 13 year old Parker popped into a classroom I was substitute teaching in. I was so proud to know him. The kids didn't know my place in Parker's life, and I heard them say, I LOVE PARKER! Several echoed the sentiment. "Parker! Can I get a fist bump?" "Hi Parker!" One asked. "Parker, do you remember my name?" "William" Parker exclaimed. William made a fist and pulled it down exclaiming, "yessssss". Oh Momma, I wanted to cry, but I was just so dang happy, so I stood there and smiled instead. And then I told them, "Parker is my son!" I was so proud and so happy, and I didn't want him to be anything other than this kid in front of me who was lighting up the whole dang room.

So, don't worry. Life is going to be amazing still. I promise you. Because you will choose it to be. You just wait and see.

Future Chrissy

things I've learned as a substitute teacher

The first thing I've learned as a substitute Teacher, is that there is absolutely no such thing as a substitute Teacher. Nope. Not even close.

There is just no substitute for the full time classroom Teacher. To be able to provide an appropriate substitute or swap- it would probably take at least 6 people. The job Teacher and the job substitute Teacher have almost nothing in common but students and teaching and school.

Walking in to substitute today. I get excited and nervous every time I enter a new classroom.

A substitute can pop into a classroom for their chosen assignment. Maybe it’s for an hour. Maybe it’s for 8. When I leave for the day, I may think about great interactions I had, the moments of learning or connection that made me feel alive. I may think about the hard moments, or the things I could have done better or differently. But ultimately, I can let it all go because I am no longer responsible for those students. If there is a really difficult classroom- I don’t have to go back to it.

I don't have to lesson plan. I don't have to learn curriculum. I don't have to do research or gather and make materials. I don't have to pay out of pocket for things my classroom and my students need. I don't have to make copies. I don't have to try and create engaging lessons. 

Education is not one size fits all- but as a substitute, I don't have to differentiate instruction. I don’t have to worry about how I can make the work accessible but appropriately challenging to every student. I don't have to remember all the specific needs of each student with an IEP. 

I do not have to communicate with parents. I don't have to try and connect with guardians who can’t be reached and haven’t responded to my attempts. I don’t have to talk to parents who have unreasonable expectations and make unreasonable demands. I don't have to provide impromptu status updates to parents who inquire.

I don't have to answer a zillion emails. I don't have to communicate with Administration. I don't have to stress about standardized testing. I don't have to belong to committees. I don't have to attend staff meetings. I don't have to document everything and input endless data.

I don’t have to fill out paperwork and fill out questionnaires. I don't have to collaborate with Speech Therapists, School Psychologists, Occupational Therapists and other Related Services. (Each one of those professions also deserve their own YOU ARE AMAZING blog posts.) 

I don't have to go to my car during lunch or a break because the sadness is leaking out and I just need to cry. This matter of helping to educate roomfuls of complicated humans is rewarding but so heartbreaking sometimes. 

I don’t have to know state and local Ed code. I don’t have to attend professional development, and endless meetings and trainings. I don't have to come in early and I don't have to stay late. I don't have to hold my bladder for inordinate amounts of time. 

I almost wept today when I finally got to use the restroom after school was over and the students were all gone!😂

I absolutely ADORE being a substitute Teacher. But when I get accolades for it, my heart sinks because I want to give them all DIRECTLY to the real Classroom Teachers. They deserve all the praise because they do it ALL. (And they never think they are doing enough.) One of my favorite parts of being a substitute - is getting to see the real Teachers in action. It honest to goodness brings a tear to my eye- watching how well they teach and how well love their students. 

Teachers: Thank you. We don't say it enough. Thank you.

You are my hero.

bubble up

Monday I was a substitute in the sweetest little Kindergarten room. I arrived early, and reviewed the plans for the day, which included, "Bubble Up, Bubble Down."

Hmmm...that is not a term in my daily vernacular, so I knocked on a neighboring Teacher's door to inquire. Turns out, it's sharing a high and a low. After the students arrived, we sat around the brightly colored, carpeted circle while they shared their own highs and lows from the previous weekend. Many kids had multiple highs. Most kids didn't even have any lows that they could remember. Sure they might tattle, and don't always listen- but I think for the most part, Kindergartners are optimists and intuitively focus on the good.

Turns out you can learn a lot from a 5 year old. 

Life’s greatest lessons are never learned as the warm sunshine hits your face, lying on a cushioned lounge chair while staring at the Caribbean Ocean. Knowledge is usually tied to hurt, to loss, to transition, to "its complicated"- to pain. On top of that, the knowledge isn’t a guarantee- I’ve met plenty of people who just turn bitter. 

At this point in life- I think most have us have earned the right to be bitter. (Can I get an amen?) But why stay there? And at what cost? I'll start out bitter, but I’ll be damned if I stay there. I won’t let my joy be a victim to any circumstance. If the shit has to hit the fan, you better believe I will work to find its purpose in my life. We must cultivate more Bubble Ups to counteract the downs.

Sometimes it’s important to take inventory and see what we need to let go of.

Friday morning was a rough one for Grey. He never loves going to school, but he begged not to go. School is closed! He announced. He cried as he got dressed for the day. As we parked and walked up, tears were streaming down his face, and slowly plopping onto the pavement. He’s not usually dramatic, and he doesn’t cry real tears for attention. My heart ached as I tried to validate his sadness while also talking about things we have over the weekend to look forward to. I said my goodbye as one of his para’s walked him into the building. Then I heard him explode into even bigger tears. I froze for a minute. I wanted to run in and grab him- take him home for a mental health day. I wanted to stop the bleeding on his source of pain. Parenting can be tricky. Sometimes it is our job to take away pain. But sometimes it’s vital that they endure life experiences- even the not so shiny ones. It’s truly the only way to learn the skills we need to succeed, and the skills we need to be a good, kind, happy person. There is a term called, "learned helplessness," and can be applied to adults doing things for a child that developmentally- the child can do on their own. We deprive them the chance to learn how to live functional, independent lives if we don't let them fail- if we don't let them experience pain.

I remember constant tears as Grey’s autism became more apparent in his two year old self. There were times it frustrated me, and times it broke my heart. A simple walk down the street would cause tears as he tried to run into traffic, and refused to hold my hand. 

There were so many therapy appointments he sobbed through. But he also gained skills- communication skills, self-regulation skills, self advocacy skills. If I never allowed him to feel pain- he would not have learned what he needed to, I would fail as a parent. First of all- it’s unrealistic, part of being alive is pain. Secondly, taking away the pain can also be taking away the learning.

This is true regardless of age or abilities. If you are in a painful moment, be willing to ask, "What are you here to teach me?" It will change your perspective.

I’m loving substitute teaching. Something about being in school is healing little kid me in ways I didn’t know were broken. The fact that my boys are an included part of a school community feels like a dream come true after being deprived for so long. I couldn't help but look at it and think- whatever is going on there is magic and I want to be a part of it. So here I am.

Kindergarteners draw me pictures and make me feel like a rock star. HI MRS. KELLY! They holler when they see me in their school again and I just MELT. Middle schoolers are helping me work on my fear of confrontation skills. (Because apparently- “Can you guys keep it down please?”- does not in fact - quiet a room.) I’m the type of person who can get her hair done, hate it, say- I LOVE IT! And tip 20% and go home and cry. So I’m learning to be more direct and assertive. Every time I am- I get a high from it. 

The week began and ended with gratitude. On Friday afternoon I worked in a 5th Grade classroom. As one student was packing up for the day, he sang,

Thank You for sunshine

Thank You for rain

Thank You for joy

Thank You for pain

Another student stopped him- Thank you for PAIN?! Why would we say thankful for pain?!

"OHMYGOSH!" I said, "YES YES YES! I'm writing about this very thing right now! Of course we don't want pain in the moment, but if we let it, it always teaches us something important." 

The students looked at me in awe. Just kidding! They stared at me blankly. HA! That's ok, one day they will get it too. 

And here's a Bubble Up I want to share. Meeting this awesome Teacher here. Turns out she has a child with Super Powers and she found our page back when we were in California, when she needed it most. I've recently worked in her school, and when she told me, she made my whole day. The world is so much more connected than we realize. Sometimes your pain can connect you to other people in the best possible way. (I am lucky that what started out as a way to share my pain connected me to you Carmen❤️❤️❤️).

What about you? What Bubble Up can you share with the rest of the class?

So Much Love,

Chrissy