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Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evil. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 25, 2018

A tough day and a scary news article---thoughts on respite

Today was one of those days.  Janey and I were both not in the best of moods.  I tried hard to keep her happy, and I'm sure she tried hard to be happy, but it didn't work out.  From my perspective, I spent hours doing exactly what she wanted---giving her the food she asked for, changing her TV shows, taking her for a car ride, snuggling with her---and then each time I didn't do exactly what she asked the minute she asked, she blew up and screamed at me.  I'm sure her perspective would be different, but I can only speak for sure about mine.  I felt tired, unappreciated, sick of it all.

And then I saw this news piece...  Read it here

But for the kindness of a stranger, this could have been a horrible tragedy.  As it is, it gives an answer, right there, to why I worry so much, why I sometimes give in to despair.  Here, in one of the riches countries in history, in a state with so many resources, THAT'S the best that is offered to care for people like Janey?  I have so many questions about how the man came to be alone on the very busy highway, but at the very, very least, there was some huge negligence going on, and by not reporting him for missing for as long as happened, I suspect some covering up, too.

My friend Michelle and I often joke back and forth with each other when we've had rough days (or weeks or months or years)---"I've got an idea!  Why don't you just get some respite?"  Then we laugh and laugh.  Because basically, there is next to no true respite available.  And when there is, well, that story above illustrates the fears I have of it.  It brought back flashbacks to the one respite I did try---you can read about there here if you wish.

Why is there so little respite, and why, when there IS a chance for there to be respite, or adult care, are there so many problems with it?

There's a few reasons, I think.  One is that unless you yourself have parented, long term, a child like Janey, a child with very little language who functions intellectually at about a toddler level, you don't really get it.  You might be as well meaning as the day is long, but you don't totally understand the EVERY SINGLE MINUTE part of the parenting.  There are no breaks, ever.  You can't let your attention slide.  This does two things.  Because people can't picture how all-consuming the job is, they don't understand why we NEED respite as much as we do.  And when people are hired to provide respite, or, bless them, volunteer to do respite, they often find themselves over their heads.  That was the case with the respite house we took Janey to.  They were hugely well meaning, they were well funded, they were a lovely place.  But they didn't get how much Janey (and other kids, I am sure, but I can only say for sure about Janey) needed to be watched.  

Another reason---our society doesn't value people who care for those with special needs very much.  We don't pay them enough, we don't train them enough, we don't screen them enough.  We as parents care for our children because we love them, because they are precious to us.  And even for us, it's too much sometimes.  I can't tell you how much I welcome Tony's arrival home every night, to give me a break.  I can't tell you how much I look forward to the school bus coming in the morning.  So, if someone else is caring for Janey, someone who is not her parent, I know it's a tough job.  I want that person to be well compensated, well trained and most absolutely well screened.  I want them to be valued, and to be treated as valued, but also I want them held to incredibly high standards.

The third reason is a dark one.  I truly believe most people are very good people.  But some people aren't.  And those people are sometimes drawn to people like Janey, who don't communicate well.  That is a horrible, everlasting fear of mine---that rare kind of person.  Or less evilly, some people snap when they lose patience.  Or simply tune out. Whatever happened the other day with the autistic man in the article---someone "caring" for him either did something cruel and evil, or someone lost patience, or someone tuned out.  And in cases like this, or the case of the many of us with children similar to Janey---well, there can be some very horrible endings.  Or horrible happenings that we never do find out about, because our children can't tell us.  And that, my friends, is why, even in those rare cases where there is respite, or as I look to the future, when Janey needs adult care, I don't have a lot of trust or a lot of hope.  Or a lot of answers.

Friday, December 21, 2012

A link that will make you cry

Here is a link about one of the young children killed in Newtown.

Click here

More than anything else, this put the horrible events of that day straight into my heart, and left me gasping for breath through my tears.  I think about that precious little girl, and I see Janey.  The fact that she was in the class she was making me think the school must have been an inclusion school.  I think of Janey, in a situation like that, unable to follow instructions, unable to hide and be quiet, unable to understand in any way what was happening---not that any child could, but I think of her fear of loud noises, her reactions to others being upset, her dislike of the school routine changing.  I think of all that, and I can barely take it.

We all depend on others.  We depend on everyone who keeps our world safe and operating.  But some of us depend more on others.  Janey does, and that means I do too.  I depend on anyone who is with her when I am not.  Janey needs supervision constantly, just to stay out of danger, literally, to stay alive.  Without someone holding her hand, she might run into traffic, or wander away.  Without someone taking the burners off the stove, or locking cupboards or monitoring hot water, or making sure she doesn't break glass or choke on things she puts in her mouth, we could lose her.  I live with that every day.  I trust the people that care for her at school, and my immediate family.  Other than that, she is with me, all the time.  I imagine the parents of Josephine Gay knew that feeling all too well.  They sent her that morning to a place she'd be safe and cared for.  And evil came that day, and took her life, and the life of other precious children.  In a way, that day reminded us all that we live with an illusion of safety.  Those of us with children like Janey have known that for a while.  I wish no-one else ever had to learn that horrible lesson.

Saturday, December 15, 2012

An emotional day

Yesterday, like most Americans, I heard the news about the shooting in Newtown and responded with pure horror.  I just couldn't even quite wrap my mind around it.  I felt numb, sickened, like throwing up.  I sat there blinded and just not ready to admit what had happened.  For some reason, I felt compelled to decorate the Christmas tree.  As I put on the angel and peace and manger ornaments, I cried, with the news on in the background.  I kept thinking of a line from my favorite Christmas carol---"I Heard the Bells"---the line that says

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

It can feel that way, a lot of times.  There is evil in the world.  We can't understand it, we can't quite even grasp it.  But it's there.  However, I truly believe there is more good than evil, much more good than evil.  I see it every day, with the people that care for Janey, that love her.  I see it in Janey herself---an innocence that will never go away.  I see it all over.

Of course, my mind went where I wish it hadn't.  What if it had been Janey at that school?  I saw the pictures of children leaving the school in a line, and thought about how Janey would not understand orders to do that, that the noise of bullets (and how sickening to even have to picture this) would scare her, how she would scream if a class was trying to be silent to avoid being shot (and why, why do we even have to think of such things?)  I thought of how she can be confused and overwhelmed by the smallest things, and I cried.

However, I also thought about how Janey will never really understand evil.  I heard advice on talking to your young children about the shooting, and I felt an odd relief that I didn't need to do that.  Janey knows nothing of what happened, and she won't.  Her autism protects her from some of the worst of life.

The day ended on another note, a very happy one.  William got his first college acceptance letter!  It was to Clark University.  He is applying to 13 other schools, and so hopefully this is the first of more, but the first letter is a huge deal.  We hugged him and cried for happiness.  I remembered the little boy that long ago carried a (wrong) diagnosis of autism, the boy who struggled for years, and who was helped beyond measure by the love of good teachers and (I hope) our love of him, and his own strength.  It felt like another reason to hope---that love and caring can work.  I am so proud of him.

And we go on, trying to understand a crazy world.  We hold our children and wish for them a life free of hate and evil, a life where love triumphs.