The Colliding of Obsessions

How did such a small thing cause such a huge problem?!

That’s what I was asking myself yesterday as events unfolded at Paradigm, Aaron’s day group.

The small thing was a simple little Subway gift card.  I had used the remaining money on it last Friday when Aaron and I went to get subs for supper.  I had asked Aaron to throw it away in the trash can near the door as we left, but instead he saw the opportunity to keep something interesting.  He thinks gift cards are fun to hold, like a credit card, and to slip in his pocket for safe keeping.  When he asked if he could keep it, I agreed…with the further comment from me that I would one day be throwing it away when I found it laying on the floor of his room.  Experience is a good teacher, after all, and a good reason to hope that Aaron will keep the floor of his room picked up.

Yesterday morning, Aaron once again slipped the little yellow Subway gift card in his pocket as we were getting ready to leave for Paradigm.  Of course, I didn’t see it or know that Aaron had it in his pocket.  Even if I had, I wouldn’t have objected.  But that was yesterday.  Today might be a different story.

You see, Aaron tried to give the card to K, another client at Paradigm.  What I didn’t know, but I do now…as does Aaron…is that K is a hoarder.  Aaron has in the past caught on to the fact that she loves notebooks and papers.  He brought her two notebooks from our house, and wanted to continue until I said no.  I also found out that Aaron was taking paper from the computer printers at Paradigm, and trying to sneak it to K.

One day as we were leaving for Paradigm, Aaron ran back in the house to get something.  I followed and waited in the kitchen.  Soon Aaron rounded the corner, surprised to see me standing there.  Look at what was under his shirt.  BUSTED!!

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Aaron was laughing because he saw the humor in the situation, thankfully.  I had asked him if he was taking K a notebook, and he told me no…but he was laughing because the truth was very obvious!

Back to the Subway card.  The staff at Paradigm saw Aaron give K the card, but they had to take it away because of her hoarding.  Aaron was VERY upset by this!  My cell phone rang as I was on my way to get him at the end of his day.  There was Aaron, trying to explain the situation to me but getting more belligerent with each word.  Barb was there, trying to explain and to calm Aaron, but he would have none of it.  He yelled at Barb, very angrily, but Barb was able to explain things to me as I neared Paradigm.

Aaron came to the van, unhappy and frustrated and embarrassed.  We talked as I drove us home.  We talked after we got home.  We talked during supper.  We talked after supper.  We talked during the evening.  We talked out in the yard with our neighbors.  We talked on the way to bed.  We talked after Aaron was in bed.  We talked first thing this morning.  We talked during breakfast.  We talked while I was fixing my hair.

You get the idea, right?  Aaron must talk and talk and talk and talk as part of his method of processing these situations.

But here’s the deal…the thing that strikes me so much about all of this.

So many of the clients at Aaron’s special needs day group have obsessions of varying sorts.  An obsession is a “compelling motivation.”  And trust me, these special adults are extremely compelled in their motivations to satisfy their various obsessions.

One of Aaron’s obsessions is to give things away.  Now, that sounds very sweet, and often it is.  But he will give away his food.  He will give away his money.  And he will give away anything else he has that he thinks might make someone happy.

What he doesn’t understand is that often he is also feeding another person’s obsession…an obsession that the staff is attempting to help the person control.

Years ago, Aaron met Rosa at Paradigm.  They became special friends.  Aaron found out that Rosa liked crayons, so he would take her a few crayons almost every day.  I didn’t realize that Rosa didn’t just like crayons…she was very obsessed with crayons.  Too many crayons pushed her over the edge emotionally.  I learned this after talking to Rosa’s mother.  She and I are good friends today, and I was very thankful that she let me know that Aaron’s generosity was actually a detriment to Rosa.

Over the years, we have seen this pattern repeated over and over with Aaron’s various friends.  One wants his food.  Another wants his money.  One likes stuffed animals.  On and on.

It’s what I call the colliding of obsessions.  Aaron will give ANYTHING away, so if he finds that someone likes something, he will do anything within his power to see that they get it.  He is feeding his obsession while feeding theirs.

Few of these special friends of Aaron’s can fully understand the situation in which they find themselves.  Reasoning through this with Aaron was extremely difficult yesterday.  He blamed Barb.  He was angry with me, and with Gary.  He firmly informed us that he was NOT going to Houston with us to see Andrea and Kyle over the 4th.

And he obstinately folded his arms while telling us that he didn’t care!

But he does care.  He just can’t rationalize this like we can.  And neither can his special friends at Paradigm who struggle with their obsessions.  It’s a volatile mix!

Kudos to the staff at Paradigm, and at so many other special needs groups, for all they must handle when it comes to these situations.  Most are like Aaron and can’t connect the dots in order to make a complete picture.  There is anger and yelling from the clients while the staff must remain calm and focused.

Every.  Single.  Day.  The staff diffuses these situations every day.  Just this morning Barb told me that she had already taken a whole sack of used QT coffee cups and empty containers of disinfectant wipes away from K!  And I’m sure K was not one bit happy.

I kept Aaron home today to allow him more time to decompress, and to decide that Barb really isn’t the enemy here.  He loves Barb – she’s his second mother – and tomorrow he’ll probably be fine.  I’ve had time to further explain K to Aaron.

As we talked, Aaron told me that K saw the card and wanted it.  I don’t know if that’s totally true, but he also said that she told him it was her birthday and he should give her the card.  His statement to me, though, was so telling…said in Aaron’s very special way.

“Mom,” he said, “I fell into her idea.”

I chuckle at how he words things while also being amazed at his insights.

Oh, if only he would remember not to fall into other’s ideas…and into many of his OWN!!

And if he would also remember what I tell him on many days.  I tell him not to give away his money, but to give away kind words and friendship to others.  No one can get enough of those!

That’s an idea worth falling into!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Hard Parts

Tuesday was my birthday, and an early gift for me that morning was that Aaron got out of bed much earlier than the day before.  Why is that a gift?  It’s a gift because having to wake Aaron up to get his day going often brings anger from him, but if he gets out of bed on his own it usually comes with a far improved mood…from BOTH of us!

Aaron’s bedtime logbook that he faithfully fills out every day shows that he got out of bed at 7:16.  Not 7:15.  7:16.  I just wanted to be sure that I was clear on that point, since Aaron is forever and always very clear and precise about his times.

My memory logbook in this brain of mine has recorded that on Monday, Aaron did not get out of bed at 7:16.  He was sleeping soundly on that morning, so I had to wake him up, which can be very tricky.  Being awakened by Mom is not on Aaron’s list of Happy Ways to Start My Morning.  It’s not on my happy list, either.  That’s because there is almost no way for me to get Aaron to wake up that suits him.  Monday was a rather angry morning for Aaron, but he did go to his day group and I was thankful for the reprieve.

So, Tuesday was wonderful!  Aaron was happy, not at all because it was my birthday but because I did not have to talk to him in my weird voice…or shake his leg…or look at him with squinty eyes…or any of the other very irritating manners that he thinks I demonstrate when I’m working to get him out of bed.

I offered to fix Aaron some French toast since we had time and since he loves French toast.  He readily agreed, so while he showered…in whatever form that process took that morning because we’re never quite sure…I began the French toast.  Later, as Aaron sat down to eat, I saw him immediately place something from his plate onto the table beside him.  Can you see the little dark spot there on the table near his plate?

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I knew what it was.  The small glob was a piece of the toast that had cooked harder than he likes.  Aaron always places hard parts of food off his plate because he will not eat them, and he doesn’t want them near his food that he IS eating.

Later, when we were both done with our breakfast, I saw that on his plate was one more bite of French toast.  I told him he had one more bite to go as he got up from the table, but he told me that he didn’t want it.

“It has those hard parts, Mom,” he explained.  I didn’t push the issue or make a big deal about it.  After all, why ruin our good morning over one bite left on his plate?

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But as I looked at his plate, I thought of how much like life those hard parts are.  Hard parts are most definitely a real part of all our lives.  I wish I could just have all the plump, juicy pieces that are easy to swallow.  But no, it doesn’t work that way.  Life, all too often, seems to have way too many of those hard parts.

I remembered those set-aside pieces the next day as I took Aaron to his Epilepsy doctor appointment.  It was time for more blood work for Aaron, so after his doctor visit, we walked over to the building next door and went up to the lab. We’ve been very blessed that Aaron, from the beginning of his seizures at a young age, has always liked watching the needle go in his arm.  Even when it hurts, Aaron wants to watch each time.

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I looked at him sitting there, taking it all in, and I suddenly wanted to cry.  I wanted to cry because he looked so vulnerable.  We get used to all these doctor visits and needles and medicines and tests, but today it was like I was seeing it all fresh and new.  He was my little boy again, with his life ahead of him…all of us unaware of all the hard parts that were ahead.

Soon we were waiting on the elevator, Aaron more than ready for lunch at Applebee’s.  The door of the elevator opened.  I hesitated to get on because there was a woman in a wheelchair inside, plus the nurse who was pushing her, plus another woman, plus a man.  That’s a lot of pluses!  The woman in the wheelchair saw our hesitation.

“Come on in!” she cheerily said.  “I won’t bite!”

I laughed, told Aaron to follow me, and we stepped inside.  I stood in front of the woman in the chair, facing her.  I saw then that she was on oxygen.  She was wearing a hat to cover her bald head, and her skin had the unmistakable chalky look of advanced cancer.  I thanked her for letting us crowd in, and then I asked her how she was doing.

“Oh,” she said now with weariness, “I’ve been better.”

“I’m so sorry,” I told her.  I wanted again to cry, and I hoped she knew that I cared.

As the elevator stopped and we all went out into the hall, I saw that the man from the elevator was walking with a badly deformed leg, or maybe a prosthesis under his pants.  His walk looked so painful.  And there outside the front door was a van from a hospice group, waiting to take the sweet cancer patient to her destination.

Hard parts.  All around me were hard parts.

Still fresh in my heart was the message from a friend about her impending divorce, received that very morning.  Other concerns for family and friends weighed on my mind…death, loneliness, health issues, fears, financial problems, job concerns.

Do I sound depressing and dreary?  I don’t want to leave it there, because for those who know God and follow Him, these hard parts are also precious parts of growing closer to our Savior.  Jesus suffered, and so shall we suffer.  But we have hope because we know that God is in control of every part of our lives…the easy and the hard.

This hope isn’t like saying, “Oh, I hope that works out.”

NO!  This hope is a certain expectation that all WILL work out according to God’s will, for our good and for His glory.  The outcome may not work out exactly as I want, but my wants are not nearly as important as God’s will.

Is Aaron cured of his Epilepsy?  No.

Is Aaron cured of his autism?  No.

So, how do I handle those “no” answers?  I handle them by fully embracing that a “no” answer is still God’s answer to me.  I trust Him to know best.

And I don’t try to push those hard parts out of my life and out of my heart.  I accept their reality with God’s grace.

Of all the Aaron issues that we deal with, his behaviors are by far the hardest to handle with love and wisdom.  Gary and I get tired…frustrated…overwhelmed…angry.  But Aaron is the whole package, the easy and the hard.  The sad and the hilarious.

We wrap our arms around Aaron and love the whole person, seizures and autism mixed in with all the rest.

Like Jeremiah said:

“Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, and whose trust IS the Lord!”

              “You are my refuge in the day of disaster.”

And so must each of us see every part of our lives as just the right mixture that God intended, and not try to remove the parts that are hard as being too hard to handle.  Go in God’s strength and trust Him.

 

 

 

 

The Dandelion

I’m a little…actually, a lot…fired up right now because of an article I just read.  Apparently, a special-needs teacher in Indiana decided on award night to present one of her male students with the Most Annoying Male award.  Yes, you read that correctly.  She did this in front of all the other students and their parents, including the parents of this young boy.

OK.  You have the background now for why I’m upset. To publicly humiliate this boy and his parents is inexcusable.  To do it in this fashion is heartless.  And the fact that this woman actually teaches special-needs students is beyond belief.

Yesterday evening, after we ate supper and as I was cleaning the kitchen, I looked over at our kitchen table.  The evening sun was shining in the windows beside our table, highlighting the beautiful flowers that Gary brought to me last week for our anniversary.  The flowers still look so gorgeous, so bright and cheerful, that I just had to snap a picture.

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When I look at those pretty flowers, I’m reminded of Gary’s love for me over all these years, and how he showed it on this particular occasion.  Gary shows his love for me every day in so many ways, but he knew that these flowers would be a very special way to demonstrate his love on our special #40 anniversary.

Later, I went out to the garage to talk to Gary while he whittled on a walking-stick he’s finishing.  It wasn’t long, though, before we heard the familiar sound of Aaron’s fast walking headed in our direction through the house.  He loudly opened the door and barreled into the garage, primed to talk about whatever was on his mind.  So much for our quiet conversation, Gary and I both said without speaking as we looked at each other.

I became occupied with some things that needed my attention,  soon realizing that Aaron had disappeared but had not gone back into the house.  I stepped out on the driveway and sure enough saw Aaron at our neighbor’s house.  He was standing at their pool talking to them as they were, I’m sure, trying to have a few moments of conversation without interruption from either of their young boys.  After calling to him a few times, Aaron turned to come home, and I turned back into our garage.

A few seconds later, Aaron rounded the corner and ran excitedly into the garage.  “Here, Mom!!!” he exclaimed.  Into my face he thrust his gift…a decrepit looking and closed-up Dandelion.

Aaron was all smiles as he awaited my reaction, holding this unimpressive Dandelion under my nose.  Honestly, my first initial impulse was to say something like this: “Oh Aaron, how sweet, but I don’t need a Dandelion in the house.”

Yet something stopped me as I saw Aaron’s huge smile and looked at how his eyes were sparkling with delight.  So, I took the little Dandelion and instead thanked Aaron.  When I did, Aaron spontaneously put his arm around me and gave me the sweetest side hug!  If you know Aaron, you know how unusual this was!  I hugged him back, a little awkwardly because I had been turning to walk away and because I was so surprised at his hug.

Aaron chuckled, full of satisfaction at his good deed.  I told him to come with me and we would put this special flower in some water.  This made Aaron very happy!  When I put the browning and unimpressive Dandelion in a small plastic glass of water, you would have thought I had put a gorgeous bouquet in a crystal vase.  Aaron grinned from ear to ear as he bounded back outside to talk some more to Gary.

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I decided to put Aaron’s little gift beside Gary’s big gift, which only accentuated the smallness of this meager Dandelion.  Yet, in no way was Aaron’s intent any smaller than Gary’s.  Both were full of love, expressed in two different and yet two very sweet ways.

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This is Aaron.  He does, in the midst of his often perplexing and annoying ways, show us his love.  He shows love on his terms and in his times, not usually on ours.  But in allowing him this freedom we are also allowing him to be expressive in manners that suit him and that come from deep in his heart.  It’s beautiful to see!

You notice I did say that Aaron can be annoying.  Aren’t all of our children, at times?  Yet never would I publicly shame Aaron as this teacher did to her student.  Our special children often find it impossible to function as expected in our complex world, but they are rarely setting out to purposely be annoying.  It’s up to us as parents and as teachers to understand this and to respond appropriately.

I don’t always understand, and I don’t always respond as I should.  Like last night as I said goodnight to Aaron, why did I choose that time to mention his need of improving his showering skills?  It took him a while to wind down from that, just when I am most tired, but what did I expect?  There are times I need a lip zipper, for real!!

This morning I saw that Aaron’s closed and rather ugly Dandelion had opened fully and was a bright yellow.  I showed Aaron, and he smiled a smile that was as bright as his Dandelion gift.

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Our special children…ALL of our children…will open and thrive if given the opportunity.  A little water and some light totally changed my little Dandelion.  He still looked small beside the larger vase of flowers, but he has quite a large place in my heart.

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Just like our Aaron.  If given the chance, he can shine along with the biggest and the best.  It’s just going to be in HIS way, and I need to know that this is a good thing.  A very good thing!

I also need to remember to point out to Aaron his own progress and accomplishments.  He loves hearing affirmation, just like he loved seeing his Dandelion gift sitting there looking brand new.  It reminded him that he had made a very good choice!

I pray that Indiana special-needs teacher will understand this someday, too.  And I especially pray that her student will be nurtured and will open up to his full potential…and that someone certainly threw away that awful “award!”