Leisa A. Hammett

Checking In

There she goes. Just as captured in this picture last night. Grace's speed tends to be break neck and then at other times draggin'-her-feet-slow. Last night, as you see, was the former. That is, last night--the end of the first day of her 19th year.

And this summer? She's got me running. Again.

Psssst! Many successful bloggers have a little secret: They write their posts in advance versus the night before or the morning of...point-click-hit-send. (Not that I consider myself a successful blogger.) But, I did and do prefer to blog in advance as much as possible. So that times like this--I can deliver regular content. Yet, Spring left that plan in the dust with break-neck speaking, traveling, art shows. I'll catch up at the end of the month.

Bear with me. (Yeah, I know you're just dying out there waiting for me to write to you. LOL.) I'll get back here with lots of thoughts about how our lives are evolving as she, year by year, ages out of services, and hence, my scarcity here and to do almost anything other than shuttle her from patch-worked services for two and three hours at a time, always across town from one program to the next.

Hint: I'm not handling it well right now. These past two weeks have been TOUGH. And, I'm trying to give myself some grace about that because I finally realized (duh) once again, it's a process. I'm twisting and turning right now in the I-do-not-like-this and I'm-mad-as-hell-about-it. Been there before. But it gets more real--that cliff, that black hole of diminishing services--each summer. So, I'm here again. And, that is just what the grief process is like sometimes. A roller coaster ride, going round and round and re-visiting the stages of grief in an unending cycle--life with disAbility. Sometimes, like right now, it's more intense. Other times, the processing is a piece of cake. Last night, Grace ate the cake. With ice cream and tried the eat the candle, too.

I'm hanging on. White knuckled. Teeth gritted. I'll get through it. I know I will. I know myself well. I'm a veteran griever. I'll get my zen back. It's like that silver band I've worn on my third left finger ever since I divorced last. (Wink.) I keep losing it and then I keep finding it....For now: gotta run....xoxo

Happy Birthday. To. Me!

Happy Monday and Happy Birthday. To. Me! Today I am 50-plus-three. And, here goes my annual "Journey with Grace" post on turning a year older....About 10 years ago, my quintessential Southern lady friend, Patsy, who always wore her long, blond hair tightly and perfectly coiffed and lacquered upon her pretty head, ssshhhed me when I dared to utter my age in public. "Leisa!" she chided: "Don't start telling people your age!"

I finally got it this last year that if I worked in Corporate America or some other more traditional institution of employment rather than self-employment (since 1991) and the Office of Special Needs Motherhood, I might be a little more reticent to proclaim my chronology aloud.

But, sorry, Patsy, here's why I do.  I believe age is good. I am not ashamed of my age. I've earned what's come with it. And yeah, some fringe benefits aren't so fringe-y. More on that later. I refuse to buy into the belief that we screech downhill upon hitting 40. I'm pretty aghast to hear this sentiment from too many around me born in my decade and the one before it and the one after it. We are still young, people! Like the rest of life, I believe much of age is about choice. Choice of attitude--how we view age and how we treat our bodies. Like, you know, that little scripture passage in "The Good Book" about treating our bodies as temples? Well, yeah. It's all we've got. These conglomerations of cells that propel us around. Science supports this and also that it's never too late to start taking better care of one's health.

Before I come across like I'm preaching the message of "Holier Than Thou," I've had my years lulling in the pits of physical health. I got sick despite my years of regular exercise. (I finally got my lazy butt active during my last semester of college when the stressors of commuting to "the big city" of Knoxville from my small college town while simultaneously balancing a full course load and a full time job. Stress relief! Yes!) But, my diet did not follow suit and my health progressively worsened throughout my 20s when my diet consisted of sugar-sugar, carbs and fried "fern bar" foods. By the time I turned 27, my body declared "No More!" and for the next five years, I collected diagnoses that included chronic intestinal yeast, TMJ, multi-heavy metal poisonings and Epstein-Barr--which was quickly morphing into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. 
Luckily, I lived in Atlanta then and had progressive wholistic physicians who quickly set me on the path to recovery through diet, nutritional supplementation, intravenous chelation, deep tissue massage and amino acid therapies. (Read, I was cured. And, taught a HUGE and costly lesson about health and my body.)

Though I've slipped from time to time, sometimes fixating on my over-love for sugar, I never left the whole foods lifestyle. My supplements are not covered by insurance but the only prescription drug I've taken for years are natural, compounded bio-identical hormones, which, overall, have helped me sail fairly smoothly through a very, very (sigh) long perimenopause. (Whether I've reached the denouement, is still up in the air.)

In my late 20's I also began practicing yoga. Back, you know, before it was cool. Folks, yoga, tai chi or, the most gentle and easiest, qi gong, are the three ways to stay flexible when aging. Don't move and muscles and joints will lock up. Remember, I'm not pulpiteering here. I neglected my diet and exercise when finishing my first book and it took me a very long time to regain my flexibility and loose the extra pounds padded on via daily comfort food indulgence. As for exercise in addition to morning yoga (about 10 minutes, followed by a short meditation--which also has health benefits,) I walk. This week, for Grace's health--as she's experienced a recent, unexplained weight gain--we are starting with a trainer, which I plan to document here. I want not only good health for myself but good health for her.

Read the under message here: I am the mother to a daughter who has moderately severe autism. I am 
53,  she is 19. Developmentally, she is anywhere from four to six. And I am, did I say it before? I'm 53. Last week was extremely challenging because not only is she a young adult with the mind of a child, she is aging out of services. I want to come back here and write and write and write about the challenges of this third summer of her aging out. But, damn, I'm busy driving her to kingdom-come right now. Hence, I could not manage a post last Friday. (I'll catch up here. Eventually.)

Parents of special needs children--you, my sisters and brothers on this arduous journey: PLEASE take care of yourselves! You're not going to be there for your child if you eat and live like there's no tomorrow. I am aghast at the epidemic of indulgence-induced obesity in our land of gross-plenty. WE are breaking our healthcare system. We are to blame. And, yes, again, I've had periods of over-eating: in 1997-2000 to soothe my grief over my child's diagnosis. In 2007 to 2011 when I said yes to a relationship that was destructive. Again, I used food to stuff down the feelings with which I refused to deal. And, at late 40s and early 50s, I couldn't bounce back from the ill-health effects of weight gain as easily as I it did when I was in my late 30s and early 40s. And, I knew that the path of pills and bowing to the system of medical dieties would not cure me. Only making wiser choices and getting back to the clean virtues--eating and living a whole foods lifestyle would and could work for me. And it is working. I gained 15 to 20 pounds in said relationship. I've got about five to go now. Weight Watchers works well for me because it teaches portion control and just what the cost of each food I put in my body. Right now, I'm using me as my locus of control. Relying on the internal and not the external....

I wanna live. And I wanna live well. I wanna live for me. And, I wanna to live for my daughter. And, I wanna live--in the ways that are unique to me, using my gifts--in service to my world. And I know that to do so, it's a web of commitment. A dedication that I make each day. And the more I do it, the more natural and innate it continues to become. I choose to age well to the best of my ability. And I choose to believe that age is not a curse but both process and progress.

Hello, 53. Thank you for choosing me today. Happy birthday. To. Me. 

Laugh. Or, Cry

Graduation, weekend before this last, was one of those moments. Magnified by 10. Grace graduated classic Grace style. In sharing in this post, The Little Drummer that Graduated Yesterday, about my daughter with autism's many antics during the ceremony, I inadvertenly left out a few. Like:

At one point during the ceremony, she wasn't having anything more to do with that scratchy cap on her head. She ripped that mother off--rescued, once again, by her dear teacher. Then she proceeded to scratch. And scratch. And scratch her head. That sucker itched....Like every other hat she's ever put on her head or her helmet when she rides at SaddleUP Therapeutic Horseback Riding.

And then there was the moment when she lined up to follow her classmates's march across the stage. Dang, those protective undergarments sure do like to form wedgies. No problem. Grace reached down beneath both cheeks and gave 'em a good yank. Oy.

Last post here, "On the Journey with Grace," I wrote about how I missed the ceremony trying to capture it on digital. I wasn't totally absent. Just removed. Somewhat out-of-body and surreal. I didn't obsess over it, but I did think time to time as I snapped photos at the start of the day what she must of looked like to any folks seeing her there, her funny, totally uninhibited, totally inappropriate behaviors. Of course, most there were watching their child, grandchild, cousin, etc., not mine. But, really, some had to notice the kid who could not keep on her hat, who rushed to the back of the seating area to break out into a wild dance during a clip of funky music played. And there was the wedgie. And then, the infamous beach ball. 

There were a couple of times early on, before the ceremony, when I caught a couple or two staring in our direction gaped mouth, part quizzical, part dumbfounded at what they might be observing. On that day, my spontaneous reaction was to grin at them really BIG, all teeth barred, lip corners upturned in an exaggerated smile and an equally exaggerated fast wave. I think they got the point. (Quit staring, people!) (They did.)

All those antics, all the things my daughter did, though she wasn't supposed to--the total lack of awareness of protocol and propriety? Chuck that. "Oh, to be so free," as my friend Ken put it. 

And so, day after the ceremony, looking back and reading the comments on Facebook beneath my post about her unique take on graduation, I was reminded that you can either laugh or you can cry on this wild ride called the autism life journey. Mortified versus crying is more like it, really. I know many parents who are mortified by their children's antics, at least early on. Even when they get this age. And, yeah, sometimes, I am, too, like when they involve a total stranger--such as quickly grabbing a stray hair off the blouse of an-unknown-to-us-woman as she stands next to us at the deli counter. And, of course, the hair more than once just happens to be atop a protruding portion of the stranger-woman's chest. Oy. Quickly, I explain: "I'm sorry.She had autism.She doesn't understand!" I say as my face flushes hot and burns and I hold my breath awaiting their response. Usually  it is gracious. But not always.

So, yeah, graduation was a culmination of soon-to-be 19 years of inappropriate behavior. And I say? Sometimes you have just got to laugh. There is humor in this strange, awkward existence called autism. And if I forgot to be light and see the purity, the innocence and the ridiculousness and the downright funny in this socially backward life, then I might cry. And be perpetually mortified.

Nope. Not me. I chose laughter long ago. I signed up for the insider's parent-elbow-in-the-rib-cage-belly-bouncing-head-down-hand-over-mouth-suppressed-chuckle-when-needed-club.  We're not laughing at our children as in making fun in a mean-spirited way. We're simply surrendering to something, too often,  beyond our control.

C'mon: Laugh with me....As they say, it's: "the best medicine." The one that "cures what ails you...."

Photo, above: The infamous beach ball incident. :)

Graduation Day Spent Behind the Camera

Graduation came and went. Nearly a week ago. And, I am still processing it all. The day. This milestone. Very slowly processing. Yet, perhaps not yet willing to take the time to full process it all. I've been working on my book this week. By the time this blog post publishes, I'll be on the way back to Louisville for a weekend of art museums and play.

I confess. I hid behind a camera during the ceremony. There were 22 of us there in the Grace Goad Fan Club. Sorry, folks, but only two of you can snap pictures without cutting off body parts, including heads. One of you would have bitched about the camera the whole time and the other one of you doesn't like me. So, I held that big digital device up in front of my face and let er rip on sports mode. ClickClickClickClick. It wasn't until Grace exited the stage that I realized what I'd done.

Missed. The whole thing.

And. I know better.

Once, at a conference many years ago--I can remember the dress I was wearing and my age, 26--an older, wiser woman came up to me and said: "Your reporter pad gives you a chance to hide." Cameras do that,  too. I recall reading how someone went whale watching and decided not to try to capture it because in so doing, they'd miss the glory of the actual moment of being in the presence of that incredible creature. I tried to remember that the few times I have been fortunate enough to watch whales.

More on this Grace's graduation and how it's shaking down will come. The continuance will share what I did experience behind the lens. (This post--The Little Drummer that Graduated--shows what I and our family, at least, saw.) And eventually, I'll process the feelings over this momentous occasion. Probably part of the reason I've not yet unpacked them is because they are bittersweet. In ways that only other families of children with autism and other disAbilities can relate. 

It will come.

The above photo: one of two in which the photographer was documented being at the actual event.

Another Reason to *heart* NASHVILLE! "Everybody has a Story"

The email account I forget to check? Last night it had an invite to this release party scheduled for this afternoon. No can do. Boo hoo! I'd already decided to post this today anyway. So, WATCH THIS! You'll be glad you did. But first: grab a hankee!

 

Unfulfilled Mothers' Day Wish

A longer version of this ad ran in yesterday's Tennessean:

Here's the link:

http://data.tennessean.com/~adservices/ads/gunad.pdf

Wisdom on a Wordless Wednesday in a World Gone Wild(er) ~

Baltimore Bound!: Honestly Autism Day

Today, I am Baltimore bound where I'll be speaking tomorrow, Saturday, April 20, at the Honestly Autism Day conference. wOOT! These folks share my ideas on autism, apparently, and I'm very happy the internet led their very friendly and competent conference coordinator, Debbie Page, to my blogsite, here, which led her to invite me to present twice during the day's events. Author/columnist Ellen Notbohm of the popular "Ten Things About Autism" book series will keynote. I look forward to meeting her. I'll be delivering my expanded personal version of the Autism Society of Middle Tennessee's popular autism parent orientation, which I've been presenting for about 10 years every other Third Thursday at Vanderbilt Kennedy Center. (Next one's May 16.) I premiered my individualized on-the-road version at last year's Tennessee Megadisability Conference. The name is "The DisAbility Journey: Loss, Grief and the Path to Acceptance."

According to Page, "the whole day is about honesty, gratitude and collaboration.  It is a combined effort of the Autism Society of Baltimore-Chesapeake, Baltimore County Public School’s Office of Special Education and the Towson University’s Department of Special Education. We call ourselves the Partnership Project!  For this year’s event we have 444 registrants plus another 156 speakers, guests, panelists and vendors!"

About the conference logo art, above: Chris Kendall, a young man with autism, created it four years ago for the premiere conference in this annual series. Then he was a high school junior at that time. Good work Chris!

MotherStrong [Special for MusicCityMoms.net]

Today I'm back over at MusicCityMoms.net. I'm talking about the labels heaped on special needs children and more specifically, their moms. And, then, what's the difference between. You. And. Me?

Join me in considering the difference...or lack thereof. Click here.Thanks!

Resurrection [A Partial Easter Re-post]

 

"Happy Resurrection from Fear to Love, from grief to joy,

from ego to Field, from separation to Unity. You are Loved

and kept in the Light."

Photo & quote originally published last, and a much warmer Easter, April 8, 2012. An Easter message emailed to me while I was in South Carolina, from my spiritual teacher, Ken Wheaton.