The Fear of Speaking: How Does One Conquer That Fear?

That is such an interesting question, and I got to try my hand at conquering that fear today.  Several weeks ago, I was telling an acquaintance of mine that I was going to be in an upcoming speech competition, and she was completely dumbstruck.  She had mentioned that so many people are afraid of public speaking, let alone the possibility of competing in it.  There are people, who would rather face death or pain, as opposed to getting up and talking in front of group. 

So, how does one overcome this fear?  It's funny you should ask because I am not so sure one ever truly overcomes this, although I will say that there are beneficial ways of dealing with it. 

Today, while I was at my contest, even before I got there, I started getting nervous.  The funny thing is I have been rehearsing this speech for weeks and was familiar with it and had even presented it to my Toastmasters (speaking support) group a couple of times.  I have been a member of this group for about 3 1/2 years, and it has helped me tremendously.  So, what was I afraid of?  It wasn't like it was my first time competing even.  To be exact, it was my 4th time.  So what was the deal?

I would have to say that there are different levels of fear.  When a person confronts an audience for the first time, it can be terrifying.  I've been there myself.  You worry about how you look, that you'll look stupid, that you'll sound stupid, that someone else is better qualified, more confident, and on and on.  I'll admit I wasn't at that level.  I've had too much experience and coaching to be that concerned or so it would seem.  When one competes you do have big concerns, that is, if you actually care about winning, which I did.  You care about those scrutinizing eyes watching you and comparing you to others and whether your nervousness showing through is going to make you a dismal failure.  So before that competition, as I was waiting for them to call my name, I was very conscious of my stress level running high and my heart racing and realizing all of the horrible effects nervousness could have on my presentation.  You can forget your lines, turn beat red, forget to talk loud so people can hear you, flop up your words, etc.  It could be a complete disaster.  I so did not want it to be a disaster.  That would have meant that all of the time I had spent preparing for this presentation would have been a waste.  I was desperate and just kept telling myself, "You can do this. Just do it the way you practiced. Be confident. You've done this before."  All of those words really didn't seem to help that much, so I tried some other tactics.

When I first started Toastmasters, I received in my starter packet several books with tips on how to do better at speaking.  Some of the tips that I remember that I have found helpful are remembering that your audience actually wants you to succeed.  I don't think a lot of people realize this, but it is true.  When you do well, it benefits the audience.  Everyone's happy.  You've conveyed a message.  They've received it.  All is good!  Another thing is if you know you're nervous, use relaxation techniques.  I did this today, and the calmness finally kicked in.  I finally got my grip and performed at my personal best and then some!

What I did was took some deep breaths and slowly released them.  I did my best to use some meditation techniques, i.e. slowing down the mind's processes, the heart rate, the anxiety, through focusing on being calm, and it really does work!  Having lessened my anxiety, I was able to focus on things that I needed to focus on like, "Am I connecting with my audience, holding their interest, and engaging them with eye contact? Is my message coming across exactly the way or better than I had intended?"

All of this may seem overwhelming to a person, who has never given a speech or is terrified of speaking.  The nice thing about, when I did join my Toastmasters group is it is a very nonthreatening group, which allows you to ease into speaking.  No one will throw you out to the wolves or force you to get out of your comfort zone, until you are ready.  In fact, I don't think I gave a speech for 3 months.  There were different roles that needed filled.  If you are new, you might be asked if you want to say a few words, and if you say "no", then that is respected.  Members of the group are well aware of the fear factor involved in speaking and do not want to scare people away.  It is entirely a support group.  In fact, mentors are assigned to new people, and there are always evaluators assigned.  Evaluators give very tactful, constructive criticism and encouragement to help foster growth and confidence.  There is a booklet one works from too that assigns different things to work on.  For example, there is the "Ice breaker" speech, where you talk about yourself.  There is the "Organizing thoughts" assignment.  Gradually, the assignments get a little harder, as a speaker acquires more skills.  It can be very encouraging to look back at assignments and to see remarks from evaluators and to see how you have improved or where you need to improve.  It can definitely give you a sense of accomplishment and does build confidence.

In fact, I had seen much improvement in my email correspondence at work.  It helped bolster my confidence to take on more leadership roles.  I had become a volunteer coordinator, organizing book fairs, fundraisers, emergency preparedness training, training managers on new processes, etc.  That was at my former work place.  I'm still active in the leadership role department.  It has definitely made a difference in my professional and personal life.  I'm a much better communicator.

In a nutshell, those are some of my suggestions for alleviating some of the fears of public speaking.  Hopefully, these suggestions can be of some help to you in your pursuits as well.

And These are Your Options...

There comes a time, when as a parent, you just want to give up.  Some people have greater thresholds of tolerance to adversity than others.  I've had people commend me for being a strong parent and amazed at what I'm able to tolerate, and they are adamant that they could not deal with what I've dealt with.  But, I'm no hero, and I can tell you that so many people view the world differently, based on their own experiences.  I've had praises, but I've also had harsh criticisms.

The roughest ride I've encountered was when my daughter first came home from the behavioral hospital.  She was put on this medicine called Zyprexa, which caused rapid weight gain.  She was outgrowing her clothes left and right, so I was constantly having to go and buy new clothes, which can be an expensive commodity.  So her behavior was an issue, although it was a lot more under control.  Then, this new issue of weight gain was becoming a problem.  Not only that, but she had sensory issues, which basically means that due to comfort issues, she is very particular about the clothes she wears.  For instance, jeans are not soft, especially around a growing belly.  Elastic waistbands are entirely uncomfortable.  Polyester shirts and sweaters were completely out of the question because the girl's temperature always ran hot.  I don't care if it was -2F, the girl would try and wear shorts and t-shirts. 

So, I was very limited as to what I could buy my daughter clothes-wise.  Her wardrobe consisted of very comfortable pants and t-shirts, so not very stylish.  There's been many a time, where I've looked at cute, stylish outfits in what should have been her size and just felt despair.  Also, I had trouble trying to figure out where to buy her things.  All the places that I normally shopped at for my daughter did not have plus sizes for kids, and never having been a plus size myself, I really hadn't a clue about where to shop.  Eventually, I discovered that JC Pennys had a Plus section for girls, so that was the only place I shopped for a while. 

It seemed a big inconvenience.  I enjoyed the luxury of being able to go to whatever store I wanted to, of my choosing, and especially to discount stores.  Being limited to one store seemed like so much of a hassle.  Then, there came a time, when she outgrew the girls Plus sizes, and my mother in law encouraged me to look at women's clothes for her.  At that time, Amber was in middle school, and the women's clothes either were too expensive, too sexy, or too old/fuddy-duddy.  I was so frustrated about how there wasn't a market out there for kids like mine.  I hated it that I couldn't conveniently buy clothes for her and resisted shopping for her as much as possible, which somewhat caused some tension between me and the school. 

The problem I encountered was I had a daughter's tummy that was steadily growing, and she was managing to break dress code on a daily basis.  It wasn't that her clothes didn't fit, at least that wasn't the case all the time, but she would stretch her arms out and purposely expose her abdomen.  I got emails from the school about this behavior on a regular basis and was half tempted to have my daughter wear my husband's shirts.  I never did that though.  It was just a temptation.

After a period of time, we took my daughter to see my husband's uncle, who is an Alternative Medicine specialist.  He met with us and made some recommendations, as far as some supplements to take.  I apologize, but I don't remember the names of these.  They weren't your normal, everyday ones like St. John's Wort and all of those.  They were a combination of ones that promoted overall health and balance.  She took 3 different ones plus her medicine, so 6 supplements at varying times a day plus 5 pills at varying times a day.  It was very depressing for me.  I felt like such a pill pusher. 

The reason for the alternative medicine is I wanted to try and wean her off of her medicine, and to some degree, I did.  In the end, though, it wasn't worth it.  We were spending a $100 in alternative medicine plus $100 in prescription meds, and I could never entirely wean her off of the prescription medicine.  The fact is, the prescription medicine gives quicker results and is less costly, even though it's more damaging in the long run.  You just can't give a mentally imbalanced person alternative medicine alone and expect them to be normal.  It's just not possible.  What's really irritating is the medical society in the United States won't join forces with the Alternative Medicine community to find natural remedies to actually help their patients.  The drug companies have way too much power!  On top of everything, it seemed the most benefit my daughter derived from the food supplements were these super, strong toe nails that frequently pushed holes through her socks.  ANOTHER PROBLEM!!!  ANOTHER EXPENSE!!!

So, I backed off of the Alternative therapy and just muddled through the day-to-day life of having a child with discipline problems, weight gain issues, medicine, and other things that came up.  She hasn't had the normal childhood of being in sports, music, dance, etc., although I have had her involved in some swimming and short-term classes offered at the YMCA.  Some of those classes I could not bare to watch her in because she was just so defiant.  I had her stop going to some.  I've felt it important to try and give her diverse life experiences, like what I had growing up as a kid.  She didn't seem to appreciate them at the time, although she seemed to when she got older and asked to be enrolled in classes that sadly weren't available because, by then, she was too old and they didn't offer them to her age group.  So, back to the drawing board. 

Life with her is constantly evolving.  Some doors may close, but other open doors have presented themselves.  It hasn't all been bad, by any means.  It's just been a struggle and makes you relish triumphs that much more.

Between the Lines

This was the third blog post previously written by my husband, which I had removed, but need to include in order for future posts to make sense. I'm just minimizing the usage of pictures for privacy reasons.

My name is Chris Heffley.  I am the husband.  With my wife’s gracious permission, I hope to contribute what I can to this blog.  Raising our children has been a team effort.  Kristal and I met, when Amber was three.  As I am a child of divorce, raised by four loving parents, it was my goal to provide Amber with the same environment.  I have always considered Amber my first child; I had been given a good example throughout my life of how not to make the “biological” or “step” distinction.  I was always treated as a son by my mother and stepfather growing up.  There are many, many, times when I would have preferred to have been less noticed or even outright ignored, but I usually got caught doing whatever it was I wasn’t supposed to be doing in the first place.  This subject could probably fill a couple more blogs, but that was my adolescence and not Amber’s.

Kristal Says “First grade was not a fun time for Amber or our family.”

 This was the understatement of the year. 

Daycare and First grade were absolute HELL.  Neither Kristal nor I were “Disciplinary problems” as children.  I don’t know if being a rebel rouser as a kid can prepare you for this or not, but coming from a fairly innocent, possibly naïve, background certainly doesn’t give you any more great wisdom of how to handle a child with “discipline” problems.  When I heard the term “discipline problem”, to me it meant that Kristal and I were somehow failing to properly “discipline” Amber.   I knew she was a “rambunctious” child.  I had been told so by friends and family at visits and parties.  I certainly knew she was “more trouble” than I was as a child.  There were many subtle and not so subtle ways I had been told in the three years that I had already known Amber that she was “different.”  After a while it gives you a complex, how is it that I am such a rotten parent.  Don’t worry; I have defiantly gotten over that.  You do develop self-doubt, you can’t help asking “what am I doing that is causing my child to be so “different”?” It becomes a roller coaster of emotion.  First you want your child to be happy, but you need to teach them to be able to “fit in” to society, if you don’t, they may not be happy…. 

At the end of every day at daycare and school we were given some kind of “problem” report.  Amber won’t pay attention, she is disturbing other students, she won’t stay in her seat, calling other students names, she is acting “inappropriate”, and on and on…..    Eventually we were constantly trying to address Amber’s behavior so she could go to daycare and school without being a “discipline problem”.    As Kristal has said we tried time out, 1-2-3 magic, taking privileges away, giving rewards and many more, so many I have forgotten. 

It consumed our life. . . .

                            It accomplished little or nothing. . . . . . .

                                                It was extremely frustrating . . . .  

                                                             It was happening every single day. . . .

 We were worn out . . . . .  

We had also, just begun our journey.

The Meeting (oh, by the way, your child is special)

Kristal talked about our meeting with Amber’s elementary school.  I must put in my two cents here also.  This meeting happened in the last weeks of school; Kristal was 9 months and 35 days pregnant. 

Ok, just trust me she was really, really, close, looked like she had a watermelon in there.   Not one of those seedless ones, I mean belly sticking out a block in front of her hobbling around like a penguin.  The suit case was packed for the hospital, Lamaze class certificate in my wallet, full tank of gas in the car at all times. We were close!!!!

This is not to say that we were too preoccupied with the birth of our second to be dealing with the “discipline problems” of our first.  Quite the opposite we were so overstimulated by all the issues in our life, I am surprised we retained our sanity. 

The meeting was surreal.  Our daughter’s school was now officially telling us that Amber was “special needs”.  It went on for at least an hour, maybe more. There were four of them and two and three quarters of us; remember the watermelon was there too.  They break it to you in stages.  You get a sprinkling of test results here, some professional opinions there, a few forms to sign right here, all mixed in with just enough legal mumbo jumbo to keep your head spinning for hours. 

I should say, I completely support our school system.  I also think that we are very lucky to have been in a good school system.  For the most part, they have been helpful in dealing with our daughter for many years.  They have a skill I do not have, and you couldn’t pay me enough to do their job!

When a professional educator tells you your kid is special needs you take notice . . . .  

I have heard of parents who fight the label. 

I have heard of parents who remove their child from the public school and choose private or to home school their child. 

I think there are about as many reactions to this as there are people. 

I think each parent must make their own conclusions about what is best for their child.

I was calmly horrified and relieved. . . .

I was calm because I couldn’t really handle horror with everything else that was going; remember the watermelon?  I was relieved because we were moving in a direction.  At this point any movement away from what we were currently doing was good with me.

A few days later on June 3, 2001 despite or because of my 3 years of efforts with Amber, she learned to ride a bike.

Oh yeah, that watermelon got pulled out four days after that, and it was our 10 pound 3 ounce son.  It was the last day of school before summer break and we had already had quite an adventure.

Trichotillomania (just another bump on the road)

I must admit I don’t understand the hair pulling.  At the time I did a lot of research on Trichotillomania.   There are many more people, who contend with this than I ever imagined.  There are all kinds of theories on the internet, one of them connecting ingesting foods like eggs to the disorder.  It was interesting, since eggs are still one of Amber’s favorite foods, but I wasn’t convinced.  She still eats eggs but doesn’t pull her hair out anymore.  The why, of the disorder really didn’t concern me, figuring out how to stop it consumed our family.

How do you stop it?  You talk, you reward, you yell, you cry . . . .

None of our efforts could stop it.  Scarfs, gloves, hats. . .   You just couldn’t watch her every second of every day.  As soon as she could get one second, where someone wasn’t watching she would pull one more hair.   I have heard it called a ritualistic almost grooming or over-grooming behavior like nail biting.  To me it was just horrifying.

It was absolutely horrifying; to see a 7 year old girl, pull all of her hair, out of her head, in a matter of a few weeks, one hair at a time. 

The Last Straw (when special becomes scary)

We have now moved forward in time to February or March of 2002.

 I could check the hospital bills and get you the exact date but I don’t think it matters that much.  I do remember the total was around $40,000.  Yep, that’s right FOUR-TY THOU-SAND DOL-LARS.  Don’t know if that is a lot to you, but it was about my salary for the year at that time, before they took out taxes. O-U-C-H.  We did have health insurance through Kristal’s work that covered most of it, like 99%.  I still think it is important to mention the amount even if we didn’t have to pay out of pocket.  It is not monopoly money, it came from our insurance.  What if we didn’t have insurance?  I don’t even want to think of that.  I feel for people, who cannot afford health insurance, but that is another blog.  So I could look up the bills, but I don’t want to see them again and I am rambling off topic.    

Amber is now almost hairless, has lost about as much weight as physically possible, and is constantly moving.  I mean really moving in odd ways.  She is doing somersaults up and down our hall nonstop.  She looks scary.  I look back at photos of Christmas 2001 and can see the changes.  She looks like an anorexic. 

How did we get here???

I have looked back many times to this particular period.  It was the time between the birth of our son and Amber’s first admission into the hospital.  What I have taken away from this experience is the science of treating mental health is more educated trial and error than most of us uninitiated realize. I once had this naïve, optimistic, outlook that when we started down the medicine journey, there would be some chemical or combination of chemicals that would just fix it all.  Or at the very least make Amber behave “normal.”  So far, we have not found that “ Holy Grail.”  I have since seen the almost medical results of psychiatric medicine, when it brought my mother back from one of the darkest times in her life.  We have not yet achieved any medicine-induced breakthrough moments with Amber.  In all honesty, there have been many times I have questioned if the medicine is “worth it” or “doing more harm than good.”  We usually are reminded later in one way or another, at least for Amber, how necessary the medications are.

 After our “special” meeting with Amber’s school, we were referred to a school recommended psychiatrist.  I will tell you in advance, this did not end well.  While I am sure the doctor was doing his best, I feel like, in hindsight, that there wasn’t enough emphasis on collecting good information about Amber’s symptoms.  I think that he has seen so many “rambunctious”, “hyperactive”, and distracted kids referred to him by the schools, that he had fallen into a rut of labeling all kids as “ADHD”.   I don’t believe Amber ever fit into that pigeon hole, no matter how hard they tried to stuff her in.  The actual major diagnosis was Oppositional Defiant  Disorder, which is just a nice way of saying she won’t do what she is told to do and more often than not, will try to do just the opposite.  I have had many other terms for it throughout her life, but we won’t go into that . . . 

The end result of our meeting with the first doctor was that Amber was put on Adderall.   I am not a chemist, but basically Adderall is a stimulant.   Through extensive research we have found stimulants are bad for Amber.  Maybe bad is not a strong enough word, they are a disaster.   She was a mess.  It took all of her “special” characteristics, and turned them up to insane levels.  In eight months, she went from special to an absolute walking chaos.  Constant movement, like Kristal said, “She did the repetitive headstands and somersaults”.  I hope most of you cannot imagine what this truly means.  Amber would do somersaults, whenever she was not sleeping or eating.  She could not or would not set still.  While all this was going on, keep in mind we had an infant in the house.  We had found our own psychiatrist, but the medicine changes were not getting results.  I think it takes a long time for a doctor to truly understand what is going on without 24/7 observation. 

I can vividly recall our frustration with the whole situation.  Kristal would take Amber to appointments, and we would be trying a new medicine after each appointment but with little or no results.  I remember thinking that surely the doctor must be seeing someone else’s kid because what they are doing isn’t helping anything.  This went on for about six months.  One night, we ended up in the emergency room.  We had given Amber her medicine and put her to bed.  A few minutes later Amber called out to us.  When we tried to talk to her, she sounded like she was drunk.  Then, we noticed her tongue had swollen up about twice its normal size.  We immediately put her in the car and drove to the hospital fearing it was going to swell further and she could suffocate.  Once there, they gave her some medicine to reduce the swelling, and we took her home a couple of hours later. 

Everything finally just slowly spun out of control to the point, where we decided to have Amber admitted to the behavioral hospital.  She was almost bald from pulling her hair out, her spine was red from rolling over and over doing somersaults, and she looked like if she lost another pound she was going to blow away.

Amber’s First Sleepover

I think every parent can appreciate the mix of joy and anxiety that comes with their child’s first sleep over.  On the one hand, you are concerned about your baby leaving the nest.  On the other, while your children are gone you get some rare couple time. In our situation couple was almost nonexistent.  Ok, so Amber wasn’t at a friend’s house spending the night, she was in mental hospital, and we still had an infant at home.   But believe me it was quite relaxing compared to what had become the norm in our life.  Sometimes, it takes stepping out of a situation to fully realize just how bad it is.  Things had just gradually escalated to the point of chaos, and we had grown accustomed to it. I felt guilty, when I realized just how good it felt not to be dealing with the constant terror of the behaviors that had consumed our lives.

Amber’s stay in the hospital was an eye-opening experience.  It was the first time anyone told me that her behaviors were not our fault.  Don’t get me wrong, people just don’t tell you that you are bad parents when your child misbehaves, but the implications are not so veiled.  Typically, the friendly parental advice got me.  Like, “Have you tried time outs, (you idiot)?” or the recommendations of books or even parenting classes.  I am sorry, I hear them, and I think, “Oh, apparently, I need a manual or some sort of instruction for what has come naturally to the rest of the human race for thousands of years.  I must be “special” also.”  I don’t care how hard people try to be professional or nice, they judge parents based on the behavior of their own children. 

This was the first time ever a professional told me that we are dealing mostly with a chemical imbalance causing this behavior and not the environment.  It made me feel better about myself.  After all, Kristal and I were also responsible for raising our now infant son, and if we were screwing up this bad  . . . .

During those four weeks, it was like living someone else’s life.   We would visit every day and had fallen into a routine that worked it all out.  There was no chaos in our lives and was for the most part relaxing.    Kristal and I got to enjoy our new son together, something we hadn’t done for the first six months of his life.  In the end, we transitioned slowly to having Amber back at home, and as Kristal said made some positive changes for her daycare.    I don’t want to paint too rosy of a picture.  There were still issues, when she came home.  But Amber was better on the meds, and Kristal and I could deal with her without needing them ourselves.   

Give You the World

The following was my first entry, which I had removed because I wasn't so sure my daughter would want pictures of her floating around the internet.  I am giving this as a speech tomorrow and next Saturday for a Toastmasters' speech competition, and I want to include it in this blog, as it is the reason I started this process.

She was a quiet girl, small-framed, light brown hair, with big blue eyes that burst like over ripened blue berries.  At times, she was prone to mischief, although she kept to herself a lot, drew pictures of animals or anything animated and full of color.  She was quite the artist for a 3-year old, loved animals, and from first introductions, you would think was a normal child.  Once you got to know her, though, you quickly realized there was something different about her.

During the preschool years, one of my daughter’s teachers mentioned that she thought she might be Autistic.  She elaborated and described her observations, indicating that she didn’t socialize with other kids, didn’t like hugs, and couldn’t be within 2 feet of anyone in the classroom.  During story time, there was a spot blocked off especially for her, where no one was allowed within her circle of comfort.  This was the first major instance of an inner rebellion that would play a key part throughout Amber’s life

In the first grade, the situation became more complicated.  Her teacher had a merit system that consisted of pulling green, yellow, and red cards to reflect a child’s behavior, with green being the best and red the worst.  Very often, my daughter was on red.  Another rewards system involved the earning of fake money to purchase toy trinkets.  This motivation only went so far.  As a last resort, her teacher came up with the idea of awarding her a hall pass for her to go and see the fish in the library.  This helped to some degree, but wasn’t enough.   There was a mention of having her take prescription medicine, but this totally horrified me.

That spring, I was very pregnant with my second child and was informed by the school that my daughter’s behavior was so intolerable that she would not be allowed to go the second half of the day.  Our family was very much in a state of crisis.  I was a full-time employee, primary insurance holder for the family, and was going to have a baby.  Our family desperately needed for me to work and to maintain health insurance, and somehow, arrangements had to be made to have my daughter picked up from school and have someone watch her, until I got off work.  I was so afraid that I would have to quit my job and that I wouldn’t have health insurance to pay for the cost of the delivery.  Not only that, I was worried the stress of it all would make me go into premature labor.  Luckily, my husband had a friend, whose wife was a stay-at-home mom, and she came to our rescue. 

After my son was born, I had 3 months off during the summer and stayed at home with him and my daughter.  For the first time, I experienced full throttle what the teachers were talking about.  She was in perpetual motion and constantly tormenting me or our two cats.  She thrived on negative attention.  The only type of rewards system that seemed to work with her was bribes with toys or candy, neither of which I was particularly fond of. 

After having endured the roller-coaster ride of my daughter’s negative and relentless antics for about 2 weeks, I had decided that prescription medicine might not be such a bad idea.  While certainly not my first choice of remedy, I was willing to try.  So, at the age of 7, my daughter’s medicine usage career began. 

Now 17, she has gone through the gambit of medications, some prescribed for anxiety, obsessive-compulsiveness, mood swings, and other not-so-flattering diagnoses.  Her doctor has used the analogy that treating symptoms is like that of treating an old car.  You fix one problem, and others may surface.  Then, they all must be treated. 

So, is the medicine worth it?  Sadly, without it, she would not have been able to get as far as she’s gotten.  Even with medicine, she still requires a lot of one-on-one coaching from special education teachers or she won’t learn.  

After about 6 years of her being on medicine, she was finally given the label of Aspergers, which basically combines all of her diagnoses into one.  The most important component of this label though was how it defined her inability to socialize with other kids, give hugs, understand human emotion, and her being chronically inflexible. 

The irony of all this is that in so many ways I see my daughter as my antithesis.  I see a girl, who has a life far more difficult than what I’ve ever had to go through.  She is awkward socially, physically, and intellectually.  Her hardship is my challenge, my challenge her hardship.  Together, we have faced surmounting obstacles and have a lot more to face.  Without family, doctors, the school, and other community supports, I don’t know where we would be.  One thing is for sure, if I could give her the world, I would, but it’s not that easy.

The following was the second entry I had previously posted called

"The First Breakdown"

First grade was not a fun time for Amber or our family.  The summer prior to first grade, she had gone in for psychiatric testing, so the school could determine what exact symptoms she suffered from.  Also, this diagnosis would determine whether she could be enrolled in Special Education classes.  Sure enough, she was definitely eligible for the classes.  At that time, she was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder, Oppositional Defiancy Disorder, and Bipolar Disorder.  I learned so much about labels that summer.  It was definitely not the pleasant learning experience.  Also, I was informed that she was eligible for services and would be attending a new school.  This was a relief to me, since the half-day only school attendance was somewhat of a hardship to our family, although we managed to survive.  The real kicker, though, was I was informed that she would be attending school in a different town that I had never heard of, 30 minutes away.  Not only that, but there wasn't bus transportation going to this school.  Our family had survived the first crisis of the half-day school, only to be given this new trauma.  Fortunately, we were misinformed about the lack of transportation.  Still, the school was in a different city, 30 minutes away, which meant having to get up earlier to be ready for the bus.  It wasn't a very happy introduction of starting public school with the new baby and all.

The worst part about first grade is that Amber started fixating on things and exhibiting stranger and stranger behavior.  She had started taking Adderal, which we later learned is the worst possible medication to give her.  Stimulants magnify psychotic behavior in her.  At the time, she was one hyperactive kid.  She was always standing on her head at home and performing non-stop somersaults up and down the hallway.  As if that behavior wasn't odd enough, she became fixated about blonde hair being ideal.  So, what she would do is go look at herself in the mirror and pull out the unwanted hairs.  The problem is, Amber doesn't have blonde hair.  Her hair is brown, so she would pull any hair out.  She would do it, when she'd think no one was watching.  She also pulled out her eyelashes.  Nothing would stop her from doing this.  There was no rationalizing with her.  The teachers at school started having her wear gloves to try and deter this behavior.  It helped to some degree, but the behavior got out of control.  She actually managed to pick bald patches in her hair.  It was horrifying.  Even seeing herself with baldness and no eyelashes was no deterrent for her to stop this behavior.  Fortunately, head scarfs were fashionable that year, so we bought her some of those.  They also served as somewhat of a deterrent to keep her from ripping her hair out.  When she couldn't pick at her hair though, she'd pick at her skin.  The problems never seemed to go away.  Medicine sure didn't seem to help either. 

At daycare, there were other problems.  She did the repetitive headstands and somersaults there too and was just an all-around weird child.  She would talk about eating bugs and stuff.  The caregivers kept expressing concerns about her, until one day, my husband and I scheduled an emergency appointment with her doctor and she was admitted into the mental hospital.  We had no idea what else to do and really didn't feel we had much other choice.

Taking her to the hospital was a very scary thing.  In order to have her admitted, my husband and I had to be interviewed by hospital staff.  They ask you very personal questions about how you discipline your child, what life is like at home, what is her entire history all the way back to her delivery, etc.  You feel like you are being put on trial and start second guessing whether you've done anything wrong that could cause such behavior, whether they are going to fault you for something, etc. 

She was successfully admitted, and I believe was there for about 4 weeks.  Whilst she was there, her doctor saw her daily and prescribed different medications.  She would meet with the doctor and with a counselor.  She also had a very structured day, where she would have the regular meals, have game time, where they would work on crafts, play in the gym, swim, watch TV or whatever.  Plus, she had to be responsible for picking up after herself, making her bed, etc., which I saw as a positive.  The staff was very friendly and helpful.  In fact, Amber, at one point, told me she didn't want to leave because she liked the pool so much.  She liked the games and the food too.

On a nightly basis, we would go and visit with her and call and tell her “good night”.  It was sad.  What a horrible first-time-away-from-home experience, but it didn't seem to bother her one bit.  One positive thing that turned into a negative was this one medicine she was prescribed, Zyprexa.  She was such a skinny Minnie, but this medicine changed all of that.  It stabilized her mentally but also gave her an insatiable appetite.  She ate constantly and never felt full.  She put on 20 pounds in just a couple of weeks and started outgrowing her clothes in leaps and bounds.

During the week, I would go to two 8 o’clock appointments before work and meet with a panelist of experts, including the doctor, counselor, and other representatives.  We would discuss our goals for Amber, what goals were being met and needed to be met, in order for her to be approved for release.  We would also discuss things such as what insurance approves and disapproves of.  If the doctor couldn’t make a good, solid case to the insurance that Amber required care, they would not authorize or pay for her hospital stay.  So Amber’s stay overall probably cost in the ball park of $20,000, paid for by the insurance.  It was not cheap, by any means, and after Amber’s release, my husband and I, both, had to fight with the insurance to make sure bills were paid, etc.  My appointments at the hospital, fortunately, were covered by FMLA, although I’d often work through lunch and beyond my normal work hours to minimize my usage of it.

Once Amber was released from the hospital, life at home and school was a lot more stable.  We started her at a different daycare, where there were fewer kids and more supervision, at the recommendation of her bus driver, who was a sweet, sweet lady.  The new daycare was so much better for her.  The daycare owner seemed to be more engaged with her and understood her special needs, whereas the other daycare lacked the personal touch and the one-on-one care that Amber so requires.  Amber had successfully been stabilized.

Friendships and the lack thereof

I've had 3 very huge disappointments with my daughter, apart from dealing with the Aspergers, in general.  These instances were disappointing because had I known more about Aspergers, I could have made different choices.  Not only that, but had I known my daughter had Aspergers at the time, what it was or how to deal with it, a lot of my parenting choices might have been different.  I was not very well informed.  In fact, no one I was around seemed to be all that informed.  Her doctor prescribed medicine, based on trial and error.  The school staff did not know instantly how to deal with my child, based on a diagnosis.  Every child is different.  Even though person A and person B may have the same label, that means nothing!  A boy with Aspergers may be more mathematic and scientific, whereas a girl with Aspergers may be more into art and/or animals, such as my daughter.  On the other hand, none of this may be true.  Maybe a person gets the label simply because they are awkward socially and don't pick up on body language or visual queues, human empathy, etc.  At any rate, I made some decisions that I have felt bad about, knowing what I know now.  Being ignorant of my daughter's condition, though, who could blame me?

In the first grade, when my daughter was having all the trouble at school, I was trying to find the right motivation to get her to behave.  She had a birthday party coming up, and I had invited several people from her class to come.  Her behavior at school was not improving at all, and I had decided that she should not be allowed to have a birthday party, if her behavior didn't improve.  Well, it never improved, so I had to call all of the parents and let them know that the party was cancelled.  Sadly, that was the only opportunity to have her a "normal" birthday party because the year after that, she was placed with the special needs kids and really didn't have any friends among them.  Had I known that following through and taking away the birthday party privilege wouldn't have motivated her because of her condition, maybe she could have had that "normal" party.  I remember her teacher being saddened that it was taken away, so I often wondered if it was the right decision.  (And what I mean by a "normal" birthday party is one where you invite your child's classmates to the house, the skating rink, Chuck E Cheese, etc., have cake and ice cream and open gifts.  My daughter never had one of those.)

The best birthday parties my daughter has had have been in years recent.  In 7th grade, my daughter finally had a friend, who was introduced to her by the school.  So, for 6 years, she did not have a real friend.  That's a very long time to be so isolated, especially for a kid, and to not have a birthday party with other kids.  Instead what we would do is just have the family go out or have a cake at home and open gifts.  When my son started getting old enough to have parties, though, there was a stark, actually quite horrid contrast. 

At the age of 3, we had my son's first birthday party at Chuck E Cheese and invited the kids from the daycare.  I felt terrible for my daughter for not having similar parties, but at the same time would tell myself that, unfortunately, that's the way it was.  She didn't have friends, was disadvantaged, and didn't have the privileges my son and others had.  It was somewhat humiliating, and I was embittered towards certain people because of it. 

I was embittered because of the neighbor lady's daughter, who treated my daughter with contempt for being different.  I liked my neighbor but because her daughter could not accept and be a friend to my daughter, I had a very hard time wanting to associate with her mom.  Not only that, there was a girl down the street, who would play with my daughter at times.  Her mom would only allot her daughter an hour to play with my daughter.  On top of that, her daughter was everything I secretly wished my daughter to be, popular, a girl scout, smart, well-mannered, confident, a soccer player, etc.  Not only that, but the girl never came to our house to see my daughter.  Not only was it an insult to my daughter, but it was such an insult to me.  Because of my daughter's Aspergers, I don't think it ever hurt her feelings.  I always felt like that little girl's mom felt she was just being nice and doing me a favor by letting her daughter play with mine, and yeah, she was.  It's a horrible situation to have to be in though.  I understood perfectly why she wouldn't want her daughter to be around mine.  My daughter was obnoxious, a wild child, and very self centered.-- If you're around someone with Aspergers for long, for the most part, you will learn rather quickly that their interests are very finite.  They may want to talk about cars or animals or whatever, and they won't find at all what you have to say to be interesting.  They will incessantly drone on and on about stuff that they like and care about, which makes it very hard to have a dialogue with them, unless you are just as obsessed with the same subject matter.  So, my daughter really didn't have any friends.

Actually, there was a girl, who lived on the same part of town, that she was friends with outside of school for one weekend, and I never allowed that girl over again.  It was an awful experience.  It was when my son was still an infant, and I had to watch this girl like a hawk around him.  She'd pick him up and bounce him, even though I told her repeatedly "no".  She had special needs too, by the way.  She also would be bossy towards my daughter and wanted to tell me how to make oatmeal.  I couldn't just make oatmeal.  It had to be a certain way.  There was also baggage brought in by her adoptive mom, which didn't help foster this new friendship at all.  Her mom was negative about my daughter from the get go and just told me we'd observe our kids and if their habits started negatively rubbing off on the other, we'd keep them separate.  My daughter was at her house for a while, and she had company over and called me to pick the girls up because she basically wanted them out of her hair.  Then, her daughter over at my house kept insisting she needed medicine, which ok.  I have a daughter, who takes medicine, so no big deal, although I would have preferred her mom had given it to me before I left her house.  So, I go to get it, and her mom tells me her daughter was making up stories and not to listen to her.  The drama went on and on, so I just decided I had enough drama with my own daughter and that I didn't need theirs to carry on along with mine.  So, for a long time, my daughter and son shared my son's friends as playmates and that was fine.  Count your blessings, really!  It was nice they had someone to play with and were happy.

So, in 7th grade, my daughter had a friend.  Then, shortly thereafter, we moved but stayed in the same school district, so my daughter maintained this friend until here recent.  They didn't hang around each other all that often and maybe got together about once every few months.  Sadly, for this birthday, they are no longer friends, but after the rough beginnings and knowing how fickle human nature can be from my own experiences, I just accept it and move on. 

What's really been a saving grace, along with the one friend my daughter had, for birthdays was family members, who got together with us, close friends, and the wonderful kids and parents in our new neighborhood, who have been very supportive of our entire family and especially my daughter.  The best kind of people in the world, as far as I'm concerned, are those, who will accept you and your offspring, defects and all.  I have little use for others.

More later...

Off the Beaten Path

This blog entry has nothing to do with the previous posts.  This is just me going off the beaten path and talking about some of the best adventure trips I've had in my life because I didn't stick to a script, things just happened, and I lived through it to talk about it.

In the fall of 1992, I had the opportunity to go to school in England as a foreign-exchange student.  There were two really memorable trips that I went on.  The first was to Ireland and the second was to France.

What was so memorable about Ireland was having gotten separated from the girl I was with.  Her name was Michelle, and she was from Chicago.  Somehow, we were paired up by our school to be travel partners, although we didn't know each other.  We really didn't get along all that great either, although we didn't find this out until much later.  While we were in Ireland, we were planning to meet up with someone, but my alarm clock did not wake me.  The girl was really mad at me, and we just seemed to argue the rest of the trip.  We wound up missing the train

that would have taken us from Killarney to Dublin, and she proceeded to be nasty with me further.  At that point, I'd had it and just conveniently lost her.  So, there I was alone in a foreign country but away from her.  My dilemma was I really had no money to stay anywhere and needed to be to Dublin, so I could catch the ferry back to Wales to catch the train to go back to school in Grantham, England.  There was only one train left to get back to Dublin too, so if I missed it, I would be wandering the Ireland streets at night.  So, I made it a point to astutely pay attention to my watch and the departure times.  I probably had about 2 hours to kill, before it left.  Then, I kept to myself a lot on the train because I was concerned about being a young woman, all alone in a foreign country, and the possibility of being taken advantage of.  However, I did observe a woman with her daughter and struck up a conversation with them.  After a while, I did tell them my situation.  They were very concerned and offered me a place to stay and a ride to the ferry the next morning.  WHAT A GODSEND!  So, yes, I took them up on their offer, and that night, I stayed up a bit talking to the 16-year old daughter and just getting to learn more about Ireland from a native that I would not have gotten the opportunity to learn about.  She told me stories about how strict their schools were and sneaking out at night and going to concerts.  There is just so much you'll never learn about different cultures reading about them from text books.

France.  France was a dream come true.  I had studied French all four years in high school and for two in college.  Once again, I had gotten separated from my school group.  This time, it was planned though.  The group was going to a planned tour to a perfume factory, which I absolutely had no interest in going to.  I had not studied about France for all that time to miss out on the main sites of gay Paris, so I hoofed it.  I walked day and night across Paris.  I went to the Eiffel Tower, la Rive Seine, le Père la Chaise Cimetière, (where I paid my respects to Oscar Wilde and Jim Morrison), le Louvre, l'Arc de Triomphe, Bon Marché, a post office, and yes, to a train station. 

My French wasn't fluent, but I asked for directions, ordered food, was fitted for a bra, and just had an all-around great time.  I was very cautious being alone and all and made sure I didn't go down dark alleys or that any strange person was following me.  It all worked out.

One other time, while I was in Paris, another interesting opportunity came about.  A couple of guys in our group were arguing over something really stupid, and I honestly don't remember what it was about.  I saw a chance to split the two up, before it became violent.  So, I intervened.  The one guy called me a name and said he didn't care what I had to say.  The other guy, I talked him into going to get a drink with me.  Didn't know the guy real well, but we became friends after that.  Besides, I really didn't want to spend an evening in Paris confined to my hotel room watching TV.  So, we went to a bar and started talking to the bartender, who spoke perfect English, which was really great because Phil didn't know French.  He talked about the Moulin Rouge (the Red District), which you really don't hear too much about in French class, and all of the beautiful women.  He was talking about how all the beautiful women come out at night and that we should really go there.  It was our last night there, unfortunately, or maybe we might have gone.  At the end of the night, I gave Phil a customary French kiss, which is a kiss on both cheeks.  Nothing romantic there. :-)

On one of the trips, I went to Liverpool, which is home of the Beatles.  I went with a friend on this trip, and we went to the Beatles Museum, which was pretty exciting or psychedelic might be the appropriate word.  I was a huge Beatles fan in high school, thanks to a guy I had dated, and just had to go there. 

The girl I had gone with her name was Lisa, and this sweetheart enjoyed my company so much that she invited me on a trip to Leeds and paid my way.  I had no money to go on the trip, but I gave her my French currency, and we called it even.  We had a great time and experienced our first roasted chestnuts.  I know that sounds like a strange memory to bring up, but when you hear the song "Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire" all your life and have to come to England just to try one, it's pretty lame.  So, we buy our chestnuts, and I start to eat one.  The guy quickly tells me that I have to peel the shell off first.-- Duh!  Was I a tourist or what? :-)

Those were some of the more interesting trips I had in Europe.  I had friends, who were fortunate enough to go to Greece, the Soviet Union, and Italy.  Although I didn't get to go to those places, I still had a great time and went to London several times, once to see Les Misèrables, Cats, and Le Mariage de Figaro, (my first opera).  I am so glad for all those great times during college because as I've become an adult, my life tends to be more focused on working and raising kids.  Never will I let my sense of adventure die though, and I always always always will look to the future for more fun.