Road to recovery

I hate whingeing.

Okay, no I don't, I love having a good old whinge-fest. I just usually save it for long text message conversations with my long suffering sister or rants at my husband while he watches endless re-runs of Top Gear (but that's a whole other post).

But here's a necessary whinge to give some context to the word "recovery".

2016 has been pretty shit so far. We knew it was going to be a challenge. We started the diagnostic process for Tom where everyone is still hedging around the word "autism," David had his second knee replacement scheduled for May, and his father's leukaemia started to worsen. We're still catching up from a few years' worth of trauma that I won't bore you with, and then there's just the challenge of parenting six kids while working full time. 

My main coping mechanism has been immersing myself in sport and music. I'm a jazz singer for a local big band and I have discovered the addictive joys of triathlon, which means a lot of hours in the pool, on the bike and pounding around the lake. I think I chose triathlon because I can run away from everyone and they can't catch me.

Well, the shit things happened on schedule. Thomas' behaviour has been a challenge but we've got some support services in the pipeline. David had his knee surgery and the the tragic happened - while he was in hospital recovering, his dad was admitted in the end stages of his cancer. What a desperately sad and intimate thing to be a part of. David, his mother and brother (and me, as David's carer), lived in the palliative care room for the final days while he passed. He did, and the funeral happened, and we all loved each other as best we would through that awful time.

David's recovery was painful although straightforward but complicated of course by necessary trips to support his mother, and everyone's grief was an overlay on it all. We all process things in such different ways.

As David began to recover, I of course got sick. I should have tapered off my running and swimming but they were such a stress release - pounding away the worries about how to do this, how to do that, how to get this and that done, how to manage, manage, manage...

First I got tonsillitis which knocked me off my feet for a week and then I started to get better. Yay, great. I was well for two days and then blow me, I felt like I had another cold starting. Then the headache. Oh my goodness the headache. It wasn’t like a migraine, much more intense and in the wrong spot and completely unremitting. ON the Sunday I was unwell. On the Monday, I had to leave work an hour early because no amount of codeine would knock it on the head. I went to sleep when I got home but it got worse and worse. In the morning I was vomiting, and David took me to the hospital.

They took me by ambulance to Wangaratta and after some terrible bedside manner and various fuck ups that I won’t go into here, they diagnosed me with viral meningitis.

I have never experienced head pain like it. At one point when they (wrongly) read the lumbar puncture as normal, I cried and cried and told myself that if this was just what my head was going to do forever now, I was going to kill myself. The vomiting and weakness and overall confusion was pretty awful too.

Then they read the report correctly. I was discharged the next day with painkillers and a prescription for rest. It wasn’t until the follow up on the Friday with  my GP that I was told just how serious this is. Six months for a full recovery. I’ve had three weeks off work. I am as weak as a kitten (I managed a half km walk today, although I did swim 500m in the pool the other day.)

The after effects are weird. I’m very emotionally labile and all my usual filters have disappeared. I'm saying things to people I probably shouldn't say. My balance is off (I keep listing to the left), and I find it hard to speak fluently. I have flashing lights around the periphery of my vision and my sense of smell is still a bit off. I’ve been on valium to settle the brain agitation down, but I think I will start coming off that now.

My main dilemma is training. I have a sprint triathlon I want to do in September, with a couple more leading up to an Olympic distance in February 2017. Then a half iron man in September 2017. So my road to recovery starts today. A walk around the Showgrounds and past the gallery. Walking and swimming this week, then some gentle walk-runs the week after. I must take it easy and be prepared to adjust my goals. There will always be other races. I don't have another brain.

The most important part of my recovery however will be refusing to let those filters go back up. I need to keep on saying the things I need to say, without fear, and insisting that the adults and near adults in my life support me and support themselves better.

I am going to get well. I am not going to let this drag me down.

All the credit, none of the blame

I wonder if that should be my new mantra ;)

I'm in a glowing phase with the children at the moment. The teens and I are reaping the rewards of being so honest and accountable to one another for the past few years. Greta Garbo is working two jobs to save up for her university course. We seem to have overcome the teething problems of her new independence. She seems happy with the few requirements of her, and we're happy to be flexible.

I have been forced to come up with a different nickname for my second daughter. I think I may call her El Presidente. She brought home a nomination form today for a Young Women's Leadership Forum. Only twenty girls or so will be selected from this state, and the school is putting her name forward. She's working hard, both at school, and at her part time job. She's also working hard at being a wonderful, giving member of the family. I barely need to lock my bedroom door any more.

The little ones are charming as little ones often are. They've been blessed with their father's natural sense of equilibrium, and we rarely have any issues. Stompy, the ten year old, is doing her maths homework right now. The Diva is in bed, having just had a raucous night at Cubs. Miss Three-Going-On-Thirty told me she loved me.

I feel proud.

I was always keen to hear reasons why I shouldn't take too much blame for the problems we've had. So it seems a little hypocritical to claim any credit for any of it. I'm not sure there's much credit to be had. We provide a calm-ish, happy-ish, stable-ish home. We give them what they need, we talk with them, we respect them.

But I think the biggest thing we've given them in the last year or so is a great deal of our own self-confidence. I was interested to read an article suggesting that this indeed had a huge impact in how one parents. After I had my mini-breakdown last year, which was truly a crisis of confidence, I was able to reconstruct in a way what I did feel confident about, and able to tackle issues with a greater clarity. That has certainly assisted both me and the children. We had to address exactly what is was we were believing in, trying to model, and what we wanted and were willing to accept. Articulating that clearly to the children, and seeking support from other friendly and encouraging adults to validate that these were indeed reasonable values and expectations, was a great confidence booster as well.

Here are some of the things that have helped me build my confidence:

Talk honestly to other parents.
None of us like to admit we aren't coping, but once we hint that may be the case, it's common for other parents to admit their own failings. Hearing other parents who to you seem like wonderful examples admit their own frailty, and seeing that their children have grown into great young people, does wonders to convince you that you're probably not as vile as you think you are. And if your realisation is that actually, you might be doing a bit worse than you'd like, that kind of honesty from others and yourself can open your eyes to the assistance you might need.

Talk honestly with your children.
If you are feeling uncertain about how a particular issue is panning out, invite them to share their thoughts on it. Chances are they aren't happy either, and they may well have some wisdom or suggestions to share that may help you find a different perspective. Be prepared to listen unjudgementally to what they are telling you. Sometimes what they say can be hard to hear, unfair, and even cruel, but again, if you've got that information, then you can do something with it!

Articulate your expectations - and be prepared to explain them.
It's not a unique piece of wisdom to say that the days of "because I told you so" are well past for most young people today. They are used to a culture that adores them and treats them as if they are much older, and regardless of how hard you try, unquestioning obedience isn't a likely outcome for any modern parent of teens. Sometimes they'll ask questions that make you realise that the real reason behind your expectation is "because I don't trust you," or "because I feel like I'm not in control any more" or "because if you don't I feel like I've lost authority". These are understandable fears and anxieties... but that's your problem, not your teen's, and it probably means it's not a reasonable expectation.

Consider your expectations carefully, and explain them explicitly. Teens can be very literal, legalistic, and narrow minded. If you just say "chores" then it's not narrow enough for them. If you give them a list of the exact chores you want them to do, then the next time you ask them to do something not on the list they will huff at you, "But you didn't put that one on! I've done what you expected me to do! Why should I do anything else?" And they've got a point. Perhaps you can be as explicit as possible, and give yourself some riders and loopholes. Over issues like chores, where these arguments are common, it's worth writing them down.