Live Squirrels in the Bedroom (the fine line between coping & losing it completely)

We've all had those times in our lives ... a lot is happening both good and bad, crises are coming up but we're managing, maybe we're even bold or foolhardy enough to congratulate ourselves that where lesser mortals might fall down we're still standing and maybe even winning ... and then that one extra thing happens that tips it all over the edge ...



 

For me, it was a "scritch scritch" window screen sound on a morning when I finally thought I might be getting ahead of the stream of crises that seem to define my work-life every fall. I got up from my computer, strolled down the hallway, opened my bedroom door, did a double-take, screamed, slammed the door and let out a few "star words" (you know, the kind you put ** into when you write them in a public forum) ... there was a squirrel, a cute little red squirrel (think Beatrix Potter), on the INSIDE of my bedroom window screen, running up and down my curtains.

My personal life experience (which I won't go into here since it involves a series of improbable tales that are frequently Monty Python-esque) actually includes more than one other story where a live squirrel has ended up inside our house, so I did possess the tools (live traps) and experience to meet the challenge. But when this particular rodent decided to make itself at home in my bedroom curtains, I didn't react calmly or heroically ... instead, I dissolved into a moment of pure panic and meltdown (as I'm writing this now, I'm really hoping that none of my neighbours were near enough to hear the ** words that came out quickly, colourfully and at a pretty good volume) ... and I was hit with the sudden realization (think cartoon hammer bonk to the head) that I was not coping with all the change and constant crisis nearly as well as I thought I was.

Long story short: I pulled myself back together, set a trap, left the house to go to work, found solutions for a couple more crises, came home and (mercifully) found a small peanut-butter covered squirrel in the trap (and squirrel poop on my bed). In my younger years, this wouldn't have worn me out ... in my older (saner?) years, I was surprised at how much it knocked me back (I think I said "I'm getting too old for this star word").

Still, good story (especially in the longer version with more detailed descriptions of the squirrel's moves and my counter-moves), so when I went to see Adam and his family the next day, I was looking forward to entertaining them with it.


Only to have my story totally overshadowed by what had happened at Adam's house the previous day ... while I was chasing a squirrel, Beth (Adam's mom) was putting out a fire (a real one, in her kitchen, by herself ... she's so competitive).

Let me explain:

Adam is extremely particular about his food. He has a very limited diet, and will not eat any alternatives if his particular brand of a certain "approved" food is not available. Before lunch, Beth (his mom) discovered that they were out of his apple juice, so off to the store, which as luck would have it was out of his brand of juice that day. Quick trip home to drop off the groceries they had bought, with Beth's mind only on whether Adam could tolerate yet another unplanned trip to a second store to get the apple juice (needed for him to have the lunch he expected). Second store had the juice, Adam managed the trip, and the single thought in Beth's mind as they got to their front door was helping Adam keep his balance by getting him his lunch as quickly as possible.

For those of you who have autism in the family, that series of events won't sound unfamiliar. Each person on the spectrum has things that they can and can't tolerate, and the consequences of taking a person with autism over the edge of what they can manage are often severe. When you live this way for many years, your priorities shift, with almost everything taking a back seat to helping the ASD person maintain their equilibrium ... which explains the series of events that happened next:

When they opened the front door, there was smoke coming from the kitchen. In situations like this, the human mind goes on auto-pilot. As Beth's mind quickly and automatically sifted through the list of priorities, getting Adam back on track (by making him lunch) still hit the top. She told Adam not to worry, left him at the door and ran in to find that a stove burner on low had started a grocery box on fire.

So what did she do? Scream? Cry? Run out? No .. in Adam's words (see below) she "cleaned the kitchen" .. no hysterics, no fuss, just coolly and calmly put out the fire.

 

And even at this point, the fire didn't reach the top of the priority/panic list, other than as an obstacle to cooking Adam his lunch.

 

The fire was not the tipping point, but the fact that the microwave and stove were now unusable could have been. Why? Because Adam has a narrow definition of what makes an acceptable lunch and all of the menu options require cooking. Fortunately for everyone, Adam decided that when your stove catches fire, toast is allowed for lunch - he ate at the kitchen counter and Beth cleaned up the rest of the fire mess (without the luxury of pitching a fit like I did when I first saw the squirrel).

 

 

Story the third (don't worry, it all ties together!):

 

 

 

A few nights ago, I had a vivid dream about a zombie apocalypse. The zombie mayhem happened at a cocktail party, so prior to the attack I had been looking pretty spiffy. I had a "worst case scenario" outcome I guess, because my next conscious moment was rising from the dead as an undead zombie. My first thought was "hey, this isn't as bad as I feared it might be", followed quickly by "yay, what luck, I managed to keep hold of my sparkly bedazzled evening purse!" As my fellow undead and I gathered on the dance floor, I was extremely popular because my evening purse turned out to be full of lip gloss (tubes and tubes of it) which I shared around after realizing that getting a cold sore wasn't a problem anymore (and zombie lips really do need a little colour).

 

Then I spotted my husband John, who had escaped becoming undead. For some reason he seemed terrified of me. Wanting to reassure him that I was okay and that being a zombie wasn't as bad as everyone had made out, I demonstrated to him (with giant scissors that suddenly appeared in my hand) how I could easily trim off damaged and decomposing body parts because my new body was like a plastic doll. I woke up with a strong feeling of surprise because it was obvious that my demo was not calming John down.

 

While a mental health professional might have something to say about the underlying mix of thoughts and experiences that would cough up a night-time story of this nature, it was actually a very happy dream for me: the worst happened, I was changed but not defeated, and I even found a way to bring a little joy and colour back to the party. Win, win, win!

 

 

Life has a habit of throwing surprises at us, and not all of them are positive or easy to deal with. When our lives include people on the autism spectrum, we have the extra challenge of supporting and shielding a person who doesn't do well with unexpected events, and it's easy to get into a state where your mental "panic button" is always partially engaged.

 

My best suggestion is to embrace the craziness of life rather than fighting it. Find the humour, celebrate the absurd, and collect friends who do the same. When you tip over the edge, lie there for a minute, use some "star words", then get up and jump right back into the zombie apocalypse party.

 

 

 

  

 

... and if you're looking for me and my "crew", I'll be the one wearing bright red lip gloss and holding a sparkly purse with a squirrel in it, my girl Beth will be wearing a determined expression and toting a fire extinguisher, and my friend Adam will be smiling and thoroughly enjoying the ghoulish ambience (because monsters and zombies and all things "Halloweeny" have always been his favourite)

 

 

 

 

Through the Eyes of Autism - part 4

 

How many little kids are "too many little kids"? What follows is a story of autism and spring-time, love, respect, understanding, and family ties.

 

 

 

 

To understand the events of this story, you first need to know that spring is a very difficult time for Adam. He has allergies to multiple substances that appear as soon as the snow starts to melt. He suffers traditional allergic reactions (sniffling, sneezing, congestion), but also experiences multiple sensory and cognitive changes in the spring-time months. His sensory hyper-sensitivities increase, his ability to process language and new information drops, and his tolerance for dealing with the challenges of everyday life out in the world is sharply reduced.

 

For more background details, take a look at this previous blog post:

Seasonal Allergies and Autism - April 2011

Here's the story: 

A couple of weeks ago, in the middle of the spring-time melt in Ottawa, Adam's sister Laura and her boyfriend Ryan took Adam out for a "fun" afternoon. Adam loves McDonald's, and on previous outings, starting off with lunch at McD's had worked out really well .... but not that day.

I have written previously about Adam's views on "babies" - a category that includes "little kids" (see blog post: ... of babies and monsters for more details). They are too short, too loud, too active and too unpredictable for Adam to feel comfortable and safe when they're around.

They get to McDonald's ... the moment Adam entered with his sister and her boyfriend, they all realized there was a problem. The restaurant was full of little kids. They were loud, they were active, they were everywhere. Laura and Ryan did what they could - helped Adam find a table that was less chaotic, tag-teamed at the counter to order the food - and Adam did what he could, distracting himself with his iPad. They managed McDonald's, but it cost all of them energy and sanity.

Adam entered the book store (next on the "fun" afternoon agenda) with few reserves left. What had been envisioned as a long relaxed browse through one of Adam's favourite stores instead became a "dash, grab, buy & leave" mission. Laura and Ryan understood this and were totally prepared to go with Adam's altered agenda.

And then they got to the cash ...

Problem ...

 

 

Laura had forgotten her wallet, and Ryan didn't have any cash either .... Adam was on the ropes, but he held it together.

 

Thinking quickly, Ryan suggested that he could go next door to Walmart and get some cash with his bank card:

 

 

 

When Ryan and Laura were relating this story (post-trip) to Adam's parents, they described their state of high panic in these moments, knowing that Adam was feeling stressed and very close to the edge of what he could manage - they had tried to present a calm exterior, and were hopeful they had not broadcast their distress to Adam. But look at Adam's drawings, the facial expressions, the hand-waving .... he knew their emotional state, he absorbed it, dealt with it and later drew it quite accurately ....

 

Fortunately, the story has a happy ending:

 

 

Ryan was able to get some cash (and chips) at Walmart. Laura and Adam waited in the car (the chips and iPad helped Adam to stay calm) while Ryan ran back to the book store, paid for the items Adam had picked out and brought them to the car. Then they drove home and all separately collapsed.

 

Whew! Triple whew! (one for each of them)

I said at the beginning that this was a story of love, respect, understanding and family ties.

From the earliest days, when Adam was a small, non-verbal, incredibly complex, medically fragile boy, his family has always treated him with respect - seeing him as intelligent with his own view-point and perspective, following at times the faintest of clues to figure out what he needed and wanted, paying attention to his reactions to decide what was tolerable and what was not, giving him choices and power over the direction of his own life, apologizing if they accidentally took him over the edge. As a result, Adam has developed a cool confidence - confidence that he will be heard, that "his people" won't intentionally ask him to do things that are beyond his ability or desire to manage, and that they will understand and help him out when the world coughs up situations that are not reasonable.

Great story, great kid, great family.

Love (and true liking), respect and understanding are the best gifts that families can give to their ASD relatives ... when the world gets tough, it helps to know your family has your back

P.S ... oh, and humour, the story is about humour .... finding comedy in the chaos .... the picture of "there are too many little kids at McDonald's" took over an hour to draw, with Adam periodically pausing, sitting back, reconsidering and adding more and more kids to the picture .... Adam's mom and I were laughing (so hard I had tears in my eyes) and Adam was looking at us sideways and smiling and drawing more kids .... then Adam's dad came in, saw the picture and burst out laughing too .... and when that picture was done, it was scanned and immediately sent out via e-mail for Laura and Ryan to enjoy ... humour is the other key tie that binds this family together ...




note: the concept of ASD individuals having a finite amount of energy to spend daily is well-put by Karla, an ASD adult who is an advocate and a mentor for others on the spectrum (click the link for more information on her "Token Theory"):
Karla's ASD Page - Token Theory