Archive for the 'Blogs' Category

26
Jan
12

lisa’s blog/ 3…

No I would not give you false hope

 

 

I want everyone to know that my mom died. I especially want the lady who honked at me and shook her fist angrily while I spaced out at a traffic light to know. I want her to know that I was thinking back to a time when my mother was beautiful and vibrant and I danced on her feet after school. I want that impatient woman to know that my hands were shaking at the wheel and I wasn’t even sure I could make it across that light to the video store to return a movie without collapsing.

I want her to know everything.

I want everyone to know. And yet I want nobody to know.

I want to let everybody in. I want to shut everybody out.

Nobody knows what to say, and I have failed miserably in knowing how to answer.

“Was it sudden?” Yes. It always is, by the way. I have been through my share of close deaths in the last decade, and even when a doctor stares you in the eye and tells you someone has days to live… It is always sudden. And you are never ready.

“I hope you’re feeling better today.” Not only do I not feel better, I don’t necessarily want to feel better yet.

“Were you close?” Shit, yes. She was my mother. True, we had a complicated relationship – one might even say, the “mother of all complicated relationships”. And yes, I did let that fact be known to all who would indulge me in the last couple years. But truly, there is nobody to whom I will ever feel closer.

This world was difficult for my mom. Her dreams were too big – her expectations impossibly high. She also struggled mightily, I am discovering as I navigate my own psychological journey to wellness, with mental illness. Debilitating OCD, anxiety, personality disorders, perhaps even manic depression — who really knows? She lived during a time when most were not treated or medicated for such things – and frankly, she probably would have refused anyway. It was always “her way or the highway”. But you know what? She was right more times than not.

Unfortunately, those “nots” escalated in her later years – especially during my father’s illness and death. I raged inside at how manic and unmanageable she had become – wanting to do things “her way”, denying him pain medication when he lay riddled with cancer. At times I felt like I wanted to kill the woman who I felt was killing my dad.

I expected more. I expected better. I expected – at the very least –“normalcy”.

But why? My mom was never “normal” – and light-years from the typical parent. For one thing, we were both only children. My first 17 years on this earth were essentially just the two of us. It felt more like we were sisters, friends, or even artists in residence at some sort of creative commune.

Poetry, classical music, drawing, storytelling, word games, dancing, Ingmar Bergman films, trips to the Art Institute… when most kids were outside roughhousing with their siblings… these filled my days.

She was a true artist, my mother, and I was her ultimate creation. Like everything else in her life, she wanted me to be perfect.

But I was just a kid. Human. Damaged. Helpless.

The moment she passed away, my anger was washed away with forgiveness. I see now how hard it was for my mom to give and accept love, and I’ll probably never know why. And while I never truly felt the 100% unconditional love most daughters receive without effort, I certainly learned how to give it back. And she blessed me with other gifts – many of which I am just beginning to unwrap.

All I ever wanted was for my mother to be happy.

I do want everyone to know that.

“Mother And Child Reunion”
——Paul Simon

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine

I can’t for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don’t work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away, oh, little darling of mine

I just can’t believe it’s so
Though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

But I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
When the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away
Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away

07
Jan
12

Lisa’s Blog/2…

Good Times, Bad Times

As winter break (a misnomer for parents, by the way) comes to a merciful close, I look back on the high- and low-lights of living 24-7 with my children – my eldest in particular.

 

For this blog, I’ll refer to my oldest son as “Mayhem” because it was during this vacation (yeah, right) that I discovered he is EXACTLY the Mayhem guy from the Allstate commercials. Mischievous, hole-ish, wildly disruptive – but with a certain likeable charm.

 

So, I’ve already told you about giving Mayhem a break from the meds for a day or two. We are, of course, back on them. Funny thing is, my husband, who was adamantly anti-pharmaceutical in the beginning, is now the FIRST one to emit this type of morning tirade: “Did he take his meds?… He HAS to take his meds today… is that one on the floor?… MAYHEM GET IN HERE THIS SECOND AND SWALLOW THESE PILLS!… He better not have left this house without taking these meds!?!… He has GOT to take these pills… I am NOT living another day IN THIS HOUSE without him on the meds!”

 

You get the idea.

 

So, back to looking back.

 

There was the evening Mayhem refused to stop bouncing around potato sack race-style in a sleeping bag – thrashing about and breaking ornaments on the tree like a dolphin struggling in a tuna net. This, by the way, not even at our own home. And right in front of a girl his own age (13!) who looked up at him occasionally from her iPhone and shook her head as if to say – “Don’t even THINK about asking for a piece of this someday.”

 

Then there was…. (CUE OMINOUS MUSIC) “Family Game Morning.” What ever possessed my husband to BEGIN the day with an activity that invariably leads to Jerry Springer style lash-outs, I will never know. But when he gleefully inquired, “Anyone up for Farkle?” and Mayhem responded “yes”, I at least knew enough to vacate the room as fast as the cowardly bartender drying glasses in an old Western when the bad guy swaggers in.

 

But then…. There was this.

 

On day, I asked Mayhem to clear his plate from the table.

 

And he did.

 

Without negotiation. Without altercation. Without hesitation.

 

And with a smile.

 

The pride and exhilaration that beamed from my face rivaled that of the college quarterback’s mom in the stands when her baby throws the touchdown pass that wins a bowl game, secures a high draft spot and buys her some kick-A new wheels.

 

Indeed, I have learned to cherish those moments – and similar ones – whenever Mayhem decides to dole them out.

 

And you know what? This was hardly the worst break ever – and certainly preferable to the one a couple years back where Mayhem refused to take off his obscenely tight long underwear pants for two weeks and impulsively mooned our family, friends and many an innocent passer-by our picture window.

 

Good times. Bad times.

 

Now “Get them all the f*&k back to school” time.

31
Dec
11

lisa’s blog/1…

Struggling in the “No Med” Zone

It is New Year’s Eve morning at an ungodly hour. I am up this early not because I really want to bask in the pre-dawn glow of the Christmas tree lights while sipping green tea – but rather to revel in my peaceful solitude while I can… because – just like for Robert Shaw on the fishing boat in “Jaws” – any minute now it will be attacked and chomped away by a giant, lurching beast.

My un-medicated 13 year-old son.

“Jaws”, as I will refer to him for this blog anyway, sports an unpleasant and impossible-to-fully-medicate smorgasbord of disorders – ADHD, OCD, ODD and Tourette’s.

Plus a side order of hormones.

As you get to know me, you’ll find out how hard it was for me to go down the pharmaceutical path with little Jaws. I was determined to treat him naturally. I didn’t want him to lose his “spirit” – no matter how challenging he became. I also feared the havoc the drugs might wreak on his liver. I felt like I would be doing it less for him and more to make things easier for me.

But finally I realized that things weren’t easy for him either.

So, like I do with many pursuits in my life – I pulled an ideological flip-flop that would blow even Mitt Romney away and threw myself full force into the quest for the med miracle.

Of course, nothing with these kids is easy. And after consulting with many top child psychiatrists in Chicago, we found out that Jaws’ cocktail of disorders was extremely hard to treat. A drug that would control one problem would always open a Pandora’s box of another.

I had that deflated feeling you get when you finally decide you are going to spring for those really expensive kick-ass boots at Nordstrom and you rush back right before you’re going to a party only to find they are out of stock. Forever.

Of course, a child’s welfare and future are SO much more important than designer footwear, but you get the idea.

Anyway, currently we are back to Concerta only – which is mainly to treat the ADHD – and his out-of-control impulsivity. Concerta is a stimulant and one of drugs you can skip without repercussion (medically, that is). So during this holiday break, I have been giving Jaws a break.

Which is basically like living with the love child of Pee Wee Herman and the guy from Radiohead. On crack. And hormones.

Let me tell you, giving Jaws this medicinal leave of absence is hardly a vacation for the rest of us. And – ironically – decreasing the abuse on his liver has certainly taken a toll on mine. But, hey, this is what we do for our kids, right?

Yikes. I think I hear him stirring.

We’re gonna need a bigger boat.

12
Dec
11

let’s get this party started…

Chicago radio veteran Wendy Snyder and longtime Hollywood comedy writer Lisa K. Nelson are not your typical moms……

and their families are hardly a Norman Rockwell painting…..

more like something a manic, hopped-up monkey might finger paint!

Wendy and Lisa may or may not have ADHD, but they do have kids who have ADHD….

and they’re giving it all they’ve got to bring sanity to a world of disorderly conduct…..

Other ADHD moms (and dads) are welcome to join in and share their stories….

You can email Wendy and Lisa at ADHDivas@gmail.com….

and stay tuned for the podcasts coming soon!




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