Thoughts on Mourning: (Mel Brooks after Carl Reiner's death.)
Thoughts.... I'm worried about Mel Brooks. He was married to that ridiculously pretty lady, and it hurt him when she died. Anne Bancroft, that was her name. They seemed so in love. Carl Reiner sort of made it bearable for him. They did an old Black and White bit together. I saw an interview, and the two of them talked like an old married couple finishing one another's sentences...laughing. They've been friends so long, and Mr. Reiner passed away last night. So wrong. I mean, maybe Ms. Bancroft and Mr. Reiner had their, "Forever after" in Mel Brooks, and he's done nothing but give us all laughs, but damn. What about his forever after? It's just not right. I don't mind being, "Alone." I like a quiet life of solitude, but it's not for everyone, and I don't think it's for Mel Brooks. He was good at being one of a pair. I think if people are close friends or couples, then both of them should have to live until they both croak, so no one has to miss anybody. That's all.
The part that didn't go on Facebook, about me.
It's not fair to me that some people really do love one another, and it lasts so many years, and grows and they bond, then it's gone. I know there is no better way. It's the design, perhaps, and everyone has a story, but if it lasts, then I think it might be worse letting go. If you did the work, and got to that place together, it ought to last. Of course, I've lost people, and loves of my life began dropping off when I was a teen, and three more followed over the years. It was worth it every time,at least to me to love and be loved, and although I was gutted, after a little healing, I was glad that, if they had to go, at least someone gentle was with them, at least someone loved them, and it was me rather than someone who'd be mean.
I was their, "Forever after." I had to find something to hold on to, something that wouldn't die, and that's why I began meditating. It comforted me when arms could not. Every death is horrible and even if you know it's coming, it rips a person apart. If not for thinking at least they had someone, then it would all be so useless. sighs.
That pain is so great, that it rivals the pain of being alone, and eventually I came to peace with accepting either way, peace no matter which way the tears fell, and peace even when, seemingly blasphemous, I felt something like ...happiness.
There is sorrow the depths of which I cannot describe walking around with my love and serenity. Is this what it is to be human? I think it is. I had to love, and if people can't live forever, and if I were to have no forever after or something that arrived near the end which no one can count on, or not, then I would crack myself open. Boundaries, and hopelessness be damned! I'd love the whole World exactly as it was, and not even death could stop me.
Sometimes I look at the statues of nuns in bliss over the expanse of their love and maybe there's something bigger to cause it, maybe it's the nature of humans. All I know is I've lived a life that didn't need "Eternal" love, else it would have been there, and my god, it felt like I needed it, but I was wrong. I felt the desperate hunger everyone else does, but the sustenance of romantic passion was fleeting and somehow not a thing that I could hold on to, no matter how much they wanted to stay and how much I wanted them....to stay. Sighs, I know this love, and somehow it is for others. Still self pity, balm that it may be, is no sustenance.
What I needed more than anything was to love, so I did, and subsequently found myself loved. Isn't that strange, delightfully strange? I may not get to have a forever after with one, and I've found peace with the bittersweet beauty of love anyway, but this is not a path I'd wish on anyone. It is hard, harder than building walls against it, the surrender to love or let go always in limbo and open empath in bliss and agony. I re-feel the sorrow of letting that dream die whenever someone else experiences catastrophic loss. I pray they find someone else, but should they not, I know another way. I may be insane, and I recommend it, but I know love that's greater than I can at times bear.
Still, even as I melt in moments into love itself, sighs. You can't really split a cookie with or hold Universal Love.
I'm o.k. to grow old this way or not. I'm open to romantic love and have been for many years. It doesn't come anymore, now that I don't hunt it down, neither fighting it, nor seeking. I laugh at myself. It never was something to capture or hide from. In truth, it just happened, and it stopped happening. I don't know why, and that's o.k.
I'm also open to being in solitude. At times partnered, I longed for such quiet too, but again I tell you, you can be happy either way. I don't skip through fields of flowers single, but I didn't do that coupled either. Either way, there's good work to be done, play to be had, and satisfaction mixed with desires. Either way, there is growth, rest and reflection. Overall, although, I pine romantic at times, I have, in fact, been happier alone. That's what I'm not sure other people have.
tinajonesart
tinajonesart blog. Here, you'll find the thoughts of an artist, possibly some artwork, and most definately me.
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Peace. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 1, 2020
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Hero
If you get out of bed one more day,
if you fail and discover one more way not to do it,
if your palms sweat and your heart races every time, yet you begin again,
if you fall apart on a regular basis and tremulously crawl to wash your face,
if you've been defeated a hundred times and given up just as many,
if you have despaired of ever knowing peace,
if you've found the flow or the right direction only in accidental moments,
if in your pain you've found solace somehow in helping another, and in the midst of watching the world you knew disintegrate, saw a bit of heaven in the eyes of those less fortunate,
if somehow all was right with the world even when all evidence said you were wrong, it was wrong, they were wrong,
if unreasonable hope ever bade you, "Breathe, and try again,"
if while not believing in yourself, you believed in another, and
if while helping right in the middle of your own helplessness you've found that you took even a single aim toward a single step without realizing,
You are a hero to me.
tina jones
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Meditation Experiencing Wonder
Some may remember that my son taught me it was o.k. to watch a trail of ants. I'd spent so much energy, like most people, being ever present, ever ready, ever busy, and he was the one that helped me be still. I'd been practicing meditation for a year before his birth, but it wasn't until he was five that I got it.
We were sitting on lawn chairs next to a tree, and I was hypervigilant as always. He was engrossed in a trail of ants, and I smiled, because I used to watch them daily as a child. There was an ant mound behind the garage, and I go see what they were up to. It was a peaceful time in often very chaotic days.
In loving, accepting and celebrating my beautiful son, I had to accept much about me, and if he relaxed by watching ants, then it was o.k. for me to relax too. I can't tell you the weight that lifted from my shoulders. He brought me home..to me.
Of interest to me is I thought I didn't have time for meditation. I had so much to do. What I found was that taking even two minutes to be still, made me more effective in the rest of the day. I got more done, and was happier and more serene doing it. I felt very selfish to take this time for me, yet I found that the more I meditated, the more I was able to care for others, and the more I was able to participate in their wants and needs. Instead of the me against the world feelings I had, I became someone who could add to the lives of others while adding to my own. Negative feelings lessened, and more and more I saw beauty everywhere, even....in me.
Meditation has been an integral part of my daily practice of self care since the age of 23. There are many forms, some involving breathing techniques, focus on one thing, emptying the mind, reading or visualizations. Sometimes meditation is done in our movements like walking, being fully present and noticing details, sometimes it's letting each thought and moment pass. Sometimes it's mantras, repeating a phrase that soothes, other times it's opening the mind to beauty. I used to teach meditation in a treatment center for alcoholism and drug abuse, and I enjoyed it greatly.
This meditation is on beauty in the ordinary, stillness and the willingness to experience wonder and awe. Meditation is much more about letting it happen than trying. You can't do it wrong. smiles. In this one, all that is required is listening. It's ok if the mind wanders, simply return gently. If you feel sleepy, it may be your mind telling you, "I need more rest." We fight to be super aware a lot of the time. This time is for you.
My Meditation on Experiencing Wonder: A Trail of Ants
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxQS4RyoWic&feature=youtu.be
tina jones
We were sitting on lawn chairs next to a tree, and I was hypervigilant as always. He was engrossed in a trail of ants, and I smiled, because I used to watch them daily as a child. There was an ant mound behind the garage, and I go see what they were up to. It was a peaceful time in often very chaotic days.
In loving, accepting and celebrating my beautiful son, I had to accept much about me, and if he relaxed by watching ants, then it was o.k. for me to relax too. I can't tell you the weight that lifted from my shoulders. He brought me home..to me.
Of interest to me is I thought I didn't have time for meditation. I had so much to do. What I found was that taking even two minutes to be still, made me more effective in the rest of the day. I got more done, and was happier and more serene doing it. I felt very selfish to take this time for me, yet I found that the more I meditated, the more I was able to care for others, and the more I was able to participate in their wants and needs. Instead of the me against the world feelings I had, I became someone who could add to the lives of others while adding to my own. Negative feelings lessened, and more and more I saw beauty everywhere, even....in me.
Meditation has been an integral part of my daily practice of self care since the age of 23. There are many forms, some involving breathing techniques, focus on one thing, emptying the mind, reading or visualizations. Sometimes meditation is done in our movements like walking, being fully present and noticing details, sometimes it's letting each thought and moment pass. Sometimes it's mantras, repeating a phrase that soothes, other times it's opening the mind to beauty. I used to teach meditation in a treatment center for alcoholism and drug abuse, and I enjoyed it greatly.
This meditation is on beauty in the ordinary, stillness and the willingness to experience wonder and awe. Meditation is much more about letting it happen than trying. You can't do it wrong. smiles. In this one, all that is required is listening. It's ok if the mind wanders, simply return gently. If you feel sleepy, it may be your mind telling you, "I need more rest." We fight to be super aware a lot of the time. This time is for you.
My Meditation on Experiencing Wonder: A Trail of Ants
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pxQS4RyoWic&feature=youtu.be
tina jones
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Healing From Divorce
A few weeks ago, I had the strangest experience. I suppose it's a marker for growth in many ways. A site I visit suggests friends, and an ex-family member showed up, I'm sure unaware to her. She looked beautiful and pleasant memories of her went through my mind. I was pleased. Her photos also contained some of my ex-husband. I discovered then that he had remarried....a year and nine months ago.
Here is the strange part. I didn't see my exhusband. I saw someone I used to call, "friend." He looked content, and the lady with him glowed of happiness too. I found myself smiling at his happiness, and I said a prayer to wish them well. Now, here's the really strange part: I meant it.
One knows these things will happen, but it isn't possible to predict reactions. Somehow, it was good for me. I felt weights fall off of me. I never had to, but the notion that I had to keep thinking of him to somehow be there to take care of him fell off of me like so many scales. I believed all along that the Universe would look after him, but seeing this lady, made me trust it more. I'm glad she's there. I know he'd have been ok anyway, but I feel more at peace.
Now, lest this sound too wierd, I've never been one to be able to muster jealousy. I never wanted to waste my time or the other person's. If they could be happier elsewhere, then I probably would too. Such is the case, infact. The relief is in while he never was *my* problem, my worry or mine to care for, I somehow let that notion go only seeing a few photos. Small miracle, to me.
Ofcourse, I didn't friend the ex-family member. Best to walk in peace, no strings.
It's been a journey this healing from divorce. It's been near three years now. I painted during the last months of the marriage of my own internal censorship falling away. I'd blamed him, but it was mine.
Directly following the separation, I painted headlong into the feelings. Embracing them helped me walk through them.
It seemed fitting to close this chapter with another painting, so I took to my solace of canvas, and found freedom there. What came was more than the butterfly with delicate wings of those three years ago. The heart that bled was left behind. I felt myself opening, unafraid. I showed it to a friend, and interestingly to me, they thought the wings looked more like those of a locust. Fitting, I thought, how they come every seven years, appear to die off, and reemerge stronger and more whole. I don't know what's ahead. For now I'm letting the sun warm my wings, and forgive a little self admiration, but I've grown, and I think they are glorious.
Here is the strange part. I didn't see my exhusband. I saw someone I used to call, "friend." He looked content, and the lady with him glowed of happiness too. I found myself smiling at his happiness, and I said a prayer to wish them well. Now, here's the really strange part: I meant it.
One knows these things will happen, but it isn't possible to predict reactions. Somehow, it was good for me. I felt weights fall off of me. I never had to, but the notion that I had to keep thinking of him to somehow be there to take care of him fell off of me like so many scales. I believed all along that the Universe would look after him, but seeing this lady, made me trust it more. I'm glad she's there. I know he'd have been ok anyway, but I feel more at peace.
Now, lest this sound too wierd, I've never been one to be able to muster jealousy. I never wanted to waste my time or the other person's. If they could be happier elsewhere, then I probably would too. Such is the case, infact. The relief is in while he never was *my* problem, my worry or mine to care for, I somehow let that notion go only seeing a few photos. Small miracle, to me.
Ofcourse, I didn't friend the ex-family member. Best to walk in peace, no strings.
It's been a journey this healing from divorce. It's been near three years now. I painted during the last months of the marriage of my own internal censorship falling away. I'd blamed him, but it was mine.
"Emancipation of Corpus Stradivarius"
24x36"
Oil on Canvas
" Disconnected"
11x14"
Oil on Canvas
"The Unfurling"
11x14"
Acrylic on Canvas
Monday, September 12, 2011
Longing and Satisfaction
I sit at this canvas for most the hours of my life, and I miss little of the world outside. Occasionally, I break to visit a store or check a mailing. News is everywhere, and to these eyes nothing much has changed, save that I'm more peaceful with it all. Living and seeing as I have, so many things work out, not much bothers me. It's been many years since I've seen any problem that I couldn't reference an old experience to. Even then, if what worked out before did, then so would this.
There's something about these brushes, or the act of moving paint. Without words, there are answers in the mere act of taking this action, or any. Someone once told me, "Those canvases can't love you!" in anger. Neither could they, it turns out, but being loved has never been a goal I found worth seeking. It works better to simply love. That I can do often with a brush, but in many other ways as well. My life is full of love.
I am content with each moment with the gift of yearning for the next. I've heard it called, "Divine Dissatisfaction," that state of gratitude where I know I can be more, so I love. I paint. I strive without struggle to the next level of contentment.
tina jones
There's something about these brushes, or the act of moving paint. Without words, there are answers in the mere act of taking this action, or any. Someone once told me, "Those canvases can't love you!" in anger. Neither could they, it turns out, but being loved has never been a goal I found worth seeking. It works better to simply love. That I can do often with a brush, but in many other ways as well. My life is full of love.
I am content with each moment with the gift of yearning for the next. I've heard it called, "Divine Dissatisfaction," that state of gratitude where I know I can be more, so I love. I paint. I strive without struggle to the next level of contentment.
tina jones
 |
| "In Blue" 8x8" Oil on Canvas |
Monday, August 22, 2011
Being the Help We Seek: for Caregivers and Autistic People
"Perhaps they never will" Don McLean
Those words resonate through my being ever time I talk to a parent of an Autistic child. They are trying as hard as possible to get people to listen, and in their trying...sometimes they can't hear the children with Autism. For the children who may not be as eloquent as others and for those who can't speak, it is left to us as ASD adults to share what we hear and feel, how we experience the care of those around us. In this way we can build bridges of understanding, and hopefully unite those with Autism and those who loves us. Then, perhaps progress can begin.
Following is how I've experienced the pain of caregivers in different areas of my life, be they parents, spouses, friends, coworkers...etc.
To the Caregivers: Though your love knows no bounds, and though you sacrifice, please know that even an ASD child may be totally mute, they hear every word you say. They see every time you hurt yourself by not getting the help you need in favor of desperately trying to help them.
Somewhere along the line it's gotten backwards. Families are becoming depressed, sometimes neurotic and if you've seen the news lately, some have been suicidal and a few have committed homicide. Please, do not think you're exempt. I do not believe than any one can be a 24hr a day caregiver and not experience at least times of being emotionally unstable. Even therapists who work 8 hr days are required to get therapy. Though you love so deeply, please know that there is no more effective way to harm a child than to harm his mother or father or other caregiver. To love us, you must, must, must take care of you first.
All too often the focus gets put so much on our Autism that sometimes very ill caregivers have gone past the emergency stage in needing help for themselves. You cannot give what you haven't got. You cannot help us without helping yourselves first.
I realize there is little time. I realize this sounds like the utmost in selfishness, but if you don't take care of you, I will be reading your story in the obituaries. It may be suicide or any number of physical illnesses born of your stress, worry and sacrifice that will take you, and that would be sad for me and the many you may not realize that love and need you to take care of you.
I know how many have turned to Autism organizations, and I know they are asking for extra dollars, when you haven't seen the site of an extra dollar in years. I know you've given your time to them, and I know they've used you to raise extra money for themselves and for research that is doing nothing to help you in this emergency moment.
If you so much as think in terms of ending your life or someone else's, please contact a mental health professional! If you have a plan to end your life or someone else's, get someone to bring you directly to the hospital. If you are convinced you want to do it, and it is the only choice, why not wait a day and give the people a chance to come up with a better solution? Admit it may be possible that you might not know everything, you may not have seen all of the options. Let someone else try.
To us Autistics: Society has so far not done a lot to help us. I'm with you there. Monstrous amounts of money are being raised in the name of Autism, and you're not seeing any of it effect your life. Families are trying and either getting more on your nerves daily or breaking your heart as you watch them hurting themselves. We aren't doing it to them, and we can't save them, but we can help!
Let me recap. Society isn't helping, families can't do any more than they are doing. Looks pretty bleak, doesn't it? No.
What we, all of society including those who love an Autistic person, and Autistic people themselves have been doing is NOT working. I am going to flip everything and shine the light in another direction. Ready?
You, the person with Autism may be the light at the end of the tunnel. Help is desperately needed. As an autistic person, I have things to offer. I can't do everything, but I can do some things, and some very well. I may be the one that calls the authorities on my own family if they get nuts and start talking suicide. I may have to be the one to say, "Mom/Dad, Sister, Brother, if you don't get help, you cannot help me." I may be the one to have to walk away to save myself if they refuse to get help too.
It may well be the Autistic people who are going to save the lives of our families and loved ones and even ourselves. Help is needed and someone has got to step up. Yes, us. Others can try to make us scapegoats for their problems, but we can refuse to take that responsibility, and see that we are not responsible for every emotion other human beings have. We can call them on the fallacy every time someone says, "You MAKE me feel.." We're not gods who'd have that kind of control. We can't make anyone do anything. We can let others have their own feelings. We can never act perfectly enough to force another person to be content. We're just not that powerful.
This is just bare beginnings of thought, but we are going to need tools and resources to help our NT families. I suggest emergency numbers. They've got them for us, and we need them for them. This is life and death. If we know an NT person has someone that they confide in, we need that number too. We need all contact information of anyone and anything that supports them, and we need to be able to make those calls. This could be family, churches, any group or individual they (not we) find comfort in. Write a short list of information to give including the care giver's name, the address and phone number where you can be reached. Have a script! Even something like, "Jane is in trouble and needs you!" will help.
NT's often need some kind of therapy, and they often don't get it. As we've progressed, we've watched them deteriorate. It's not our us or our Autism, but they don't know that yet. Here are a few things that may help. I went searching the net for programs specifically for them to help them get to the root of their problem and get through it to some measure of hope and happiness. (WE need them to be happy and whole!) Therapy is great and it costs money. They will have to be desperate, I mean totally desperate to even consider what I'm going to write, but if they are fortunate enough to be at the bottom there may be some hope. If they're not done fighting, I am sorry. We will have to hope they'll learn to let go soon. (They will see "fighting as a good thing" as in fighting for your care, but I am talking about a destructive fighting drive to "help" right up to and through suicide. Of course, that is never "help."
I'm a long term member of a 12 step group, and there are many different kinds out there. I saw yesterday that these steps have been rewritten for caregivers. It may help, if they are willing.
http://qualityofliferecoverystep1.blogspot.com/2011/03/step-one-in-depth-description-and.html?showComment=1313911530212#c1876700069169191367
Neither I nor anyone else is going to make money off of this. It is a matter of my very life to pass on what has been so freely given to me.
Again, hope begins after they let go. Other, longer standing 12 step programs are Emotions Anonymous and Alanon Family Groups. The three I've mentioned would be the most helpful.
Certainly, if a caregiver drinks or takes too many pills to cope, there is Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. All of these help people find a way to be content regardless of their circumstances. All use the same 12 steps, and every last one is free.
None of these care what religion (if any) people are, how much money they have, what color they are, or if they are male or female. First names only are used, and no one even needs to know that they talked to anyone there or even went to their meetings. It's "anonymous." Frankly, I think these steps should be taught as problem solving strategies in early school, and that anyone could benefit, but they just won't work for a person, until that person has collapsed of all ideas of their own on how they are going to fix, control and manage people, places and things.
I have to tell you, you can't force them to get help. You may have to watch them go through more pain. There is no greater force on the planet against health and sanity than the determined martyr. Let these resources be there should they reach out for help. You've seen them.
These are just options. I don't care where people get help be they Autistic or Neurotypical. It does not matter where a person gets help. If it works, it works! If you know of people or groups that have been supportive, share them with those you care about. Share them with other families who need help, and if you get any help, just keep paying it forward. Your very life may depend on it. Mine does, and it's working out beautifully. My aim is to build bridges of understanding, and help us see through each other's eyes. We all love, we just don't always know how.
You're saying, "But I can't help my family! I'm the one with Autism who needs help!" I hear you..
I heard a story a very long time ago, and I don't know the author, but it helped me.
There were a bunch of people at a very long table. A feast as they'd never seen was laid out and they were starving. You see, they had no elbows. They picked up the food, and try as they might they could not get it to their mouths to feed themselves.
The same table was laid out in another room, and all of the people there had no elbows either. In this room, however everyone was eating, and they were happy. Each person picked up the food and instead of trying to feed themselves, they fed another.
Everyone needs help sometimes, and sometimes we get to be the one who gives it.
tina jones
Those words resonate through my being ever time I talk to a parent of an Autistic child. They are trying as hard as possible to get people to listen, and in their trying...sometimes they can't hear the children with Autism. For the children who may not be as eloquent as others and for those who can't speak, it is left to us as ASD adults to share what we hear and feel, how we experience the care of those around us. In this way we can build bridges of understanding, and hopefully unite those with Autism and those who loves us. Then, perhaps progress can begin.
Following is how I've experienced the pain of caregivers in different areas of my life, be they parents, spouses, friends, coworkers...etc.
To the Caregivers: Though your love knows no bounds, and though you sacrifice, please know that even an ASD child may be totally mute, they hear every word you say. They see every time you hurt yourself by not getting the help you need in favor of desperately trying to help them.
Somewhere along the line it's gotten backwards. Families are becoming depressed, sometimes neurotic and if you've seen the news lately, some have been suicidal and a few have committed homicide. Please, do not think you're exempt. I do not believe than any one can be a 24hr a day caregiver and not experience at least times of being emotionally unstable. Even therapists who work 8 hr days are required to get therapy. Though you love so deeply, please know that there is no more effective way to harm a child than to harm his mother or father or other caregiver. To love us, you must, must, must take care of you first.
All too often the focus gets put so much on our Autism that sometimes very ill caregivers have gone past the emergency stage in needing help for themselves. You cannot give what you haven't got. You cannot help us without helping yourselves first.
I realize there is little time. I realize this sounds like the utmost in selfishness, but if you don't take care of you, I will be reading your story in the obituaries. It may be suicide or any number of physical illnesses born of your stress, worry and sacrifice that will take you, and that would be sad for me and the many you may not realize that love and need you to take care of you.
I know how many have turned to Autism organizations, and I know they are asking for extra dollars, when you haven't seen the site of an extra dollar in years. I know you've given your time to them, and I know they've used you to raise extra money for themselves and for research that is doing nothing to help you in this emergency moment.
If you so much as think in terms of ending your life or someone else's, please contact a mental health professional! If you have a plan to end your life or someone else's, get someone to bring you directly to the hospital. If you are convinced you want to do it, and it is the only choice, why not wait a day and give the people a chance to come up with a better solution? Admit it may be possible that you might not know everything, you may not have seen all of the options. Let someone else try.
To us Autistics: Society has so far not done a lot to help us. I'm with you there. Monstrous amounts of money are being raised in the name of Autism, and you're not seeing any of it effect your life. Families are trying and either getting more on your nerves daily or breaking your heart as you watch them hurting themselves. We aren't doing it to them, and we can't save them, but we can help!
Let me recap. Society isn't helping, families can't do any more than they are doing. Looks pretty bleak, doesn't it? No.
What we, all of society including those who love an Autistic person, and Autistic people themselves have been doing is NOT working. I am going to flip everything and shine the light in another direction. Ready?
You, the person with Autism may be the light at the end of the tunnel. Help is desperately needed. As an autistic person, I have things to offer. I can't do everything, but I can do some things, and some very well. I may be the one that calls the authorities on my own family if they get nuts and start talking suicide. I may have to be the one to say, "Mom/Dad, Sister, Brother, if you don't get help, you cannot help me." I may be the one to have to walk away to save myself if they refuse to get help too.
It may well be the Autistic people who are going to save the lives of our families and loved ones and even ourselves. Help is needed and someone has got to step up. Yes, us. Others can try to make us scapegoats for their problems, but we can refuse to take that responsibility, and see that we are not responsible for every emotion other human beings have. We can call them on the fallacy every time someone says, "You MAKE me feel.." We're not gods who'd have that kind of control. We can't make anyone do anything. We can let others have their own feelings. We can never act perfectly enough to force another person to be content. We're just not that powerful.
This is just bare beginnings of thought, but we are going to need tools and resources to help our NT families. I suggest emergency numbers. They've got them for us, and we need them for them. This is life and death. If we know an NT person has someone that they confide in, we need that number too. We need all contact information of anyone and anything that supports them, and we need to be able to make those calls. This could be family, churches, any group or individual they (not we) find comfort in. Write a short list of information to give including the care giver's name, the address and phone number where you can be reached. Have a script! Even something like, "Jane is in trouble and needs you!" will help.
NT's often need some kind of therapy, and they often don't get it. As we've progressed, we've watched them deteriorate. It's not our us or our Autism, but they don't know that yet. Here are a few things that may help. I went searching the net for programs specifically for them to help them get to the root of their problem and get through it to some measure of hope and happiness. (WE need them to be happy and whole!) Therapy is great and it costs money. They will have to be desperate, I mean totally desperate to even consider what I'm going to write, but if they are fortunate enough to be at the bottom there may be some hope. If they're not done fighting, I am sorry. We will have to hope they'll learn to let go soon. (They will see "fighting as a good thing" as in fighting for your care, but I am talking about a destructive fighting drive to "help" right up to and through suicide. Of course, that is never "help."
I'm a long term member of a 12 step group, and there are many different kinds out there. I saw yesterday that these steps have been rewritten for caregivers. It may help, if they are willing.
http://qualityofliferecoverystep1.blogspot.com/2011/03/step-one-in-depth-description-and.html?showComment=1313911530212#c1876700069169191367
Neither I nor anyone else is going to make money off of this. It is a matter of my very life to pass on what has been so freely given to me.
Again, hope begins after they let go. Other, longer standing 12 step programs are Emotions Anonymous and Alanon Family Groups. The three I've mentioned would be the most helpful.
Certainly, if a caregiver drinks or takes too many pills to cope, there is Alcoholics Anonymous and Narcotics Anonymous. All of these help people find a way to be content regardless of their circumstances. All use the same 12 steps, and every last one is free.
None of these care what religion (if any) people are, how much money they have, what color they are, or if they are male or female. First names only are used, and no one even needs to know that they talked to anyone there or even went to their meetings. It's "anonymous." Frankly, I think these steps should be taught as problem solving strategies in early school, and that anyone could benefit, but they just won't work for a person, until that person has collapsed of all ideas of their own on how they are going to fix, control and manage people, places and things.
I have to tell you, you can't force them to get help. You may have to watch them go through more pain. There is no greater force on the planet against health and sanity than the determined martyr. Let these resources be there should they reach out for help. You've seen them.
These are just options. I don't care where people get help be they Autistic or Neurotypical. It does not matter where a person gets help. If it works, it works! If you know of people or groups that have been supportive, share them with those you care about. Share them with other families who need help, and if you get any help, just keep paying it forward. Your very life may depend on it. Mine does, and it's working out beautifully. My aim is to build bridges of understanding, and help us see through each other's eyes. We all love, we just don't always know how.
You're saying, "But I can't help my family! I'm the one with Autism who needs help!" I hear you..
I heard a story a very long time ago, and I don't know the author, but it helped me.
There were a bunch of people at a very long table. A feast as they'd never seen was laid out and they were starving. You see, they had no elbows. They picked up the food, and try as they might they could not get it to their mouths to feed themselves.
The same table was laid out in another room, and all of the people there had no elbows either. In this room, however everyone was eating, and they were happy. Each person picked up the food and instead of trying to feed themselves, they fed another.
Everyone needs help sometimes, and sometimes we get to be the one who gives it.
tina jones
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Night Meditation
Lucid, I rise from yawning sheets and make my way through halls. White lace sways and drapes drift on lunar sighs. My hands brush a wood screen door that was never locked, and I emerge to a quiet place. Flat stones, still warm from a long gone evening sun - like petals against my feet, and I walk with silent purpose to a garden I've never seen. Moonlit colors are blue and grey. Scarce violet whispers of yesterdays and gates open to a little place where I am always home. The path leads me to a humble bench of stone. I take my rest there alone and not alone. Midnight fragrance fills the air of flowers and me. Lights speak in muted twinkles and tell me it's ok to sleep. The bench is sure, and I am safe. I lie down and look up through trees. Branches that dust the stars protect me. Sleepy wings come to enfold and blue light bathes me to dreams.
tina jones
tina jones
 |
| "Rain on Stone" Photograph |
Saturday, March 5, 2011
If I Could
If I could, I'd tell you that all is well. There is no need for worry about cobwebs. It's ok if the spoons aren't stacked just so, and it's alright if you don't do the dishes. It's ok if you want to cry, and it's so beautiful when you dance. If I could I'd take away any self doubt you had, and show you not only that you're loved. I'd show you, you're love itself. I'd let you know that you're never alone, that alone is an impossibility. I'd show you that we're all one, and how very precious you are to all. I'd show you the best of your heart, and give you the beauty I see in you. I'd make the strands of light and love that connect us all glow for you. I'd show you a common purpose that is so simple. Love and be loved, and simply be Love. I'd take away the "if only," and "Yes, but," and I'd replace them with peace. I'd give you the stars that are already yours, I'd lay the ocean in your hands and show you your bothers, I'd give you mountain ranges and show you your mother, I'd point at the birds and show you that you fly. I'd show the sun and show you how you outshine it. I'd give you music, your music, your song, and I'd let you hear it in the heart of God.
But I have only this paintbrush, and eyes that don't always see. I get so involved in the illusion of what's real, and at times bills or a stray stroke of paint define my existence. Hangnails bode the end of time, and politics in my mind can all but steal my hope....when I forget that these tools are not my God. When I fight of my will against material ideas, I forget I am more than made of material. The physical me is no more me than the reflection I see in a mirror. I forget that like you, I am the stuff of stars. Since we are one, though perhaps you'll see you, if I show you me. I who stumble, and forget I am Love, remember with me.
tina
But I have only this paintbrush, and eyes that don't always see. I get so involved in the illusion of what's real, and at times bills or a stray stroke of paint define my existence. Hangnails bode the end of time, and politics in my mind can all but steal my hope....when I forget that these tools are not my God. When I fight of my will against material ideas, I forget I am more than made of material. The physical me is no more me than the reflection I see in a mirror. I forget that like you, I am the stuff of stars. Since we are one, though perhaps you'll see you, if I show you me. I who stumble, and forget I am Love, remember with me.
tina
 |
"Tribute to My Fellow Angels" 8x10 Oil on Canvas |
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Self Love in Death's Arms
About six or eight years ago, I attended a life drawing studio. The model was thin, and thin isn't what I would normally view as beautiful, but she was graceful and delicate with a few curves of feminity and a great mane of dark hair. I got out one of the sketches I'd done of her, and I'd left out a lot, so a painting was going to take further construction. I began working shadows and lights, and found myself remembering.
I got very thin last year, certainly not so much as this painting, but it was bad. I had cancer. It was anal squamous cell carcinoma. I'm ok now, infact a little overweight, but I remember the "me" of the time with much tenderness. Months spent in lieing there in pain that medicine couldn't touch, often losing conciousness at the pain, unable to move, and unable to eat. My daily goal was to drink a little water. In exhausted moments, and there were some where there was less pain, daydreaming of painting the memorized ceiling, and meditating to hold on to a degree of sanity, and the quiet that comes with surrender...the acceptance of the respit of death. The "it's going to be ok," I'll rest soon, and the watching of faces of loved ones, whom I didn't want to leave, but "knew" I would, the deepest love for them and compassion at their suffering, they were so beautiful. I had lived a wonderful life afterall, and I was grateful.... In retrospect, there was even a beauty in the fragile state of such horrid illness. Looking at the painting, is at once frightening and heart-rendering. I have the feeling of wanting to pick her up and tell her she'll be ok, that's it ok to let go, and that I love her.
I underwent a major surgery, and did it really for the love of my family, so they'd know I cared enough for them to try, but I didn't expect it to work. I had nothing left to fight with. Months went by, and so slowly I was able to eat again, move without pain and far beyond my understanding, I'm alive.
I had seen people die before, and I had attended their needs and comfort. I have held hands and cried with them, and I've seen the peace that comes before they go. I thought I was strong, but I had never been the one who was dieing, the one who went so far into and beyond pain to absolute serenity.
This is not the first time I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and sure as death must come for all of us one day, it won't be my last. Until then, serenity remains, love abounds and I paint.
tina jones
I got very thin last year, certainly not so much as this painting, but it was bad. I had cancer. It was anal squamous cell carcinoma. I'm ok now, infact a little overweight, but I remember the "me" of the time with much tenderness. Months spent in lieing there in pain that medicine couldn't touch, often losing conciousness at the pain, unable to move, and unable to eat. My daily goal was to drink a little water. In exhausted moments, and there were some where there was less pain, daydreaming of painting the memorized ceiling, and meditating to hold on to a degree of sanity, and the quiet that comes with surrender...the acceptance of the respit of death. The "it's going to be ok," I'll rest soon, and the watching of faces of loved ones, whom I didn't want to leave, but "knew" I would, the deepest love for them and compassion at their suffering, they were so beautiful. I had lived a wonderful life afterall, and I was grateful.... In retrospect, there was even a beauty in the fragile state of such horrid illness. Looking at the painting, is at once frightening and heart-rendering. I have the feeling of wanting to pick her up and tell her she'll be ok, that's it ok to let go, and that I love her.
I underwent a major surgery, and did it really for the love of my family, so they'd know I cared enough for them to try, but I didn't expect it to work. I had nothing left to fight with. Months went by, and so slowly I was able to eat again, move without pain and far beyond my understanding, I'm alive.
I had seen people die before, and I had attended their needs and comfort. I have held hands and cried with them, and I've seen the peace that comes before they go. I thought I was strong, but I had never been the one who was dieing, the one who went so far into and beyond pain to absolute serenity.
This is not the first time I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel, and sure as death must come for all of us one day, it won't be my last. Until then, serenity remains, love abounds and I paint.
tina jones
 |
| "Emaciated Nude" 11x14" Acrylic on Canvas |
Monday, January 17, 2011
Autism: Ongoing Understanding of Neurotypicals....the *regular* folk
"On the spectrum" of Autism, such a nebulous term. I lean more toward Austism than Aspergers in spots, yet I'm presentable enough at times to recieve the brunt of social expectation. "Expectation" is a word I wish had never been invented. "Neurotypical," despite it's basic meaning of a most common neurological wiring, is another word I don't like, because I find nothing typical among either those without Autistic traits or those with them. Each human being is an individual to be celebrated for their beingness.
I learned about autism 19 years ago when my son was diagnosed, and that's when I learned about me. I even learned about other people....a lot. It seems a whole lot of people never bumped their heads on the floor for comfort as a child, don't chew their tongues, don't have a kneaded eraser in their purse that they can play with for comfort, flick their fingernails against their palms in an "it's gonna be alright" way, and most of them do not have a hum in their voice, nor do they keep a respectful/comfortable three foot distance from people when speaking. Most of them have no problem with grabbing your arm when speaking to you (different boundaries). A whole lot of them (believe it or not) do not see details. They seem to enjoy or ingnore noise sometimes (ie. crowd chatter), they love fluorescent lighting (Sadistic lights/sounds are pleasant to them.). Many of them, "Think outside the box" without ever looking to see what's actually IN the box, and only vaguely know what I'm talking about when I refer them to the feeling they get at "fingernails on a chalkboard."
Many of them are burdened with having the socially correct hair cuts, clothing (whether it's comfortable or not) and latest sayings. Idioms, or not saying what they mean are common language, and they have to have a constant translator going in their minds at all times to understand what others (who don't say what they mean), really mean. (Remember that "Who's on First?" Abbott and Costello routine? It's like that for them as best I understand it. I must admire them for this, as I could never keep up with the codes.) They have talents too. many spontaneously know what to say in drivel conversations (small talk) and have textbook body language. A lot of people even have exaggerated body and face movements and a disturbing need to peer into my eyes and worse, many get upset if I don't do it back! Weirdos! (grins)
If there is one thing I've learned, (and I do hope there's at least one) it's that there is no greater waste of my time and energy than to try to get the world to understand me. They are not going to get it. I'd be better off telling a person born blind that the sun hurts my eyes.They may accept it or not, but they're not going to understand it, and many people get mad at or fear things they don't understand.Thus, I'd totally given up on living happily misunderstood (Yes, I got temporary gratification from it, sadly). I needed a new outlook. There is no chance of me changing them. They are probably perfectly fine just like they are. Sometimes they say that people on the spectrum don't have compassion/empathy. I do understand projection.
The situation is for me that I live in a world mostly populated by fear of difference. It's ok with them that you're different as long you don't talk about it and can fake a reasonably good *normal.* (Another useless word to me). Many neurotypicals have a need to try to fix others. Well, I can be the one person of respit in their lives who doesn't try to change them. I can accept with love. (This often confuses them. grins.) Someone has got to understand, they can't, it's not hardwired in, they were not made this way for better or for worse, regardless of what I or anyone thinks of it, so, in the interest of me not asking a legless person to run.....
If understanding, compassion and empathy are what I sense is missing in the world, then understanding, compassion and empathy are precisely what I need to give to the world. Ok so they don't get me, so what? I enjoy learning, so I study them. True, I feel like Jane Goodall of "Gorillas in the mist" sometimes, but I see wonderful things. They interact oddly to me with all of the small talk, touching, social status rules and other things that don't have significance to me, but they do to them. Just because a thing is not important to me, that doesn't mean it's not important whether or not I understand it. St. Francis said, "it's better to understand than be understood," and for the sake of my sanity, I agree, it's better in that it's more effective.
I'm interested in what works.
Not all, but some people respond well to being heard and understood. This, I do right in the middle of yearning to be accepted, by the way. I don't care who provides the understanding. I can't afford to worry about that. It doesn't matter to me when there is a shortage of understanding who provides it, and it most certainly doesn't matter who goes first or if it's ever returned to me from them. I'm going to have understanding of them and myself either way, because whenever I take time to understand others, I learn a little more about me. I become someone I like better, and someone who is ultimately less alone
I can't afford to care much what others think of me (another waste of my energy). What I think of them, however comes from inside of me even when faced with apparent proof positive of my own judgements. I'd much prefer the compassion of thinking "they just can't understand or are not ready" than the thought "that they are too cruel to try." I am more peaceful when I have the compassion that is so sorely needed in and for everyone. Who does not desire to be loved for who they are? This I can give.I can let go of judgements, I can accept, and I can love.
Long ago, I was so angry at *normal* people (neurotypicals) for being different. I was doing exactly what I felt was done to me and hoping that would make a difference. It only made the problem worse. I had to learn to give in the middle of needing, to love in the middle of wanting love, to accept in the middle of feeling judged and to embrace in the middle of feeling rejected. I do not crawl, nor do I negate my own needs. I simply allow my natural compassion to fill the void in others and me.
Somehow through "It's better to understand than be understood," I got everything I needed and more. When I'm willing to give to the need I sense in the world, my own needs are fullfilled. The compassion I have for a world who has struggles that I could not comprehend comes from perhaps not the person I show compassion to, but from someone, or something or even from the last place I thought to look: From me.
It helps me to look at similarities, for example "stimming." I've already mentioned what I do for comfort. I've come to believe that their form of stimming is small talk. From the outside, it doesn't look productive. It often involves strange staring, *pretend* smiles, and huge body movements, but it seems to give them some comfort. Where I chew my tongue, they jiggle their change. I have a kneaded eraser, they have good luck charms like rabbit's feet, prayer beads, etc.
Priorities are relative too. Where I focus on doing what I can to live in a low stress environment and improving my canvas or memorizing that new tune to the last note so much that I'll listen to it thirty times in a day, they focus (like my obsessing) on competitive steps and getting ahead of someone else. Neurotypical or On the Spectrum, to me, we are all a little delightfully strange.
Understanding, however much or little I can, is making the world I live in a more comfortable place for me. Some of the NT people, I've noticed, even calm down after a while of me trying to understand, and don't do so much small talk *stimming.* If I can't make the world a better place for me directly, I can begin by making it better for them. When the world is a better place, I am content. When I am content, the importance of differences fade, and I see the beauty in all, all, all of us.
tina
I learned about autism 19 years ago when my son was diagnosed, and that's when I learned about me. I even learned about other people....a lot. It seems a whole lot of people never bumped their heads on the floor for comfort as a child, don't chew their tongues, don't have a kneaded eraser in their purse that they can play with for comfort, flick their fingernails against their palms in an "it's gonna be alright" way, and most of them do not have a hum in their voice, nor do they keep a respectful/comfortable three foot distance from people when speaking. Most of them have no problem with grabbing your arm when speaking to you (different boundaries). A whole lot of them (believe it or not) do not see details. They seem to enjoy or ingnore noise sometimes (ie. crowd chatter), they love fluorescent lighting (Sadistic lights/sounds are pleasant to them.). Many of them, "Think outside the box" without ever looking to see what's actually IN the box, and only vaguely know what I'm talking about when I refer them to the feeling they get at "fingernails on a chalkboard."
Many of them are burdened with having the socially correct hair cuts, clothing (whether it's comfortable or not) and latest sayings. Idioms, or not saying what they mean are common language, and they have to have a constant translator going in their minds at all times to understand what others (who don't say what they mean), really mean. (Remember that "Who's on First?" Abbott and Costello routine? It's like that for them as best I understand it. I must admire them for this, as I could never keep up with the codes.) They have talents too. many spontaneously know what to say in drivel conversations (small talk) and have textbook body language. A lot of people even have exaggerated body and face movements and a disturbing need to peer into my eyes and worse, many get upset if I don't do it back! Weirdos! (grins)
If there is one thing I've learned, (and I do hope there's at least one) it's that there is no greater waste of my time and energy than to try to get the world to understand me. They are not going to get it. I'd be better off telling a person born blind that the sun hurts my eyes.They may accept it or not, but they're not going to understand it, and many people get mad at or fear things they don't understand.Thus, I'd totally given up on living happily misunderstood (Yes, I got temporary gratification from it, sadly). I needed a new outlook. There is no chance of me changing them. They are probably perfectly fine just like they are. Sometimes they say that people on the spectrum don't have compassion/empathy. I do understand projection.
The situation is for me that I live in a world mostly populated by fear of difference. It's ok with them that you're different as long you don't talk about it and can fake a reasonably good *normal.* (Another useless word to me). Many neurotypicals have a need to try to fix others. Well, I can be the one person of respit in their lives who doesn't try to change them. I can accept with love. (This often confuses them. grins.) Someone has got to understand, they can't, it's not hardwired in, they were not made this way for better or for worse, regardless of what I or anyone thinks of it, so, in the interest of me not asking a legless person to run.....
If understanding, compassion and empathy are what I sense is missing in the world, then understanding, compassion and empathy are precisely what I need to give to the world. Ok so they don't get me, so what? I enjoy learning, so I study them. True, I feel like Jane Goodall of "Gorillas in the mist" sometimes, but I see wonderful things. They interact oddly to me with all of the small talk, touching, social status rules and other things that don't have significance to me, but they do to them. Just because a thing is not important to me, that doesn't mean it's not important whether or not I understand it. St. Francis said, "it's better to understand than be understood," and for the sake of my sanity, I agree, it's better in that it's more effective.
I'm interested in what works.
Not all, but some people respond well to being heard and understood. This, I do right in the middle of yearning to be accepted, by the way. I don't care who provides the understanding. I can't afford to worry about that. It doesn't matter to me when there is a shortage of understanding who provides it, and it most certainly doesn't matter who goes first or if it's ever returned to me from them. I'm going to have understanding of them and myself either way, because whenever I take time to understand others, I learn a little more about me. I become someone I like better, and someone who is ultimately less alone
I can't afford to care much what others think of me (another waste of my energy). What I think of them, however comes from inside of me even when faced with apparent proof positive of my own judgements. I'd much prefer the compassion of thinking "they just can't understand or are not ready" than the thought "that they are too cruel to try." I am more peaceful when I have the compassion that is so sorely needed in and for everyone. Who does not desire to be loved for who they are? This I can give.I can let go of judgements, I can accept, and I can love.
Long ago, I was so angry at *normal* people (neurotypicals) for being different. I was doing exactly what I felt was done to me and hoping that would make a difference. It only made the problem worse. I had to learn to give in the middle of needing, to love in the middle of wanting love, to accept in the middle of feeling judged and to embrace in the middle of feeling rejected. I do not crawl, nor do I negate my own needs. I simply allow my natural compassion to fill the void in others and me.
Somehow through "It's better to understand than be understood," I got everything I needed and more. When I'm willing to give to the need I sense in the world, my own needs are fullfilled. The compassion I have for a world who has struggles that I could not comprehend comes from perhaps not the person I show compassion to, but from someone, or something or even from the last place I thought to look: From me.
It helps me to look at similarities, for example "stimming." I've already mentioned what I do for comfort. I've come to believe that their form of stimming is small talk. From the outside, it doesn't look productive. It often involves strange staring, *pretend* smiles, and huge body movements, but it seems to give them some comfort. Where I chew my tongue, they jiggle their change. I have a kneaded eraser, they have good luck charms like rabbit's feet, prayer beads, etc.
Priorities are relative too. Where I focus on doing what I can to live in a low stress environment and improving my canvas or memorizing that new tune to the last note so much that I'll listen to it thirty times in a day, they focus (like my obsessing) on competitive steps and getting ahead of someone else. Neurotypical or On the Spectrum, to me, we are all a little delightfully strange.
Understanding, however much or little I can, is making the world I live in a more comfortable place for me. Some of the NT people, I've noticed, even calm down after a while of me trying to understand, and don't do so much small talk *stimming.* If I can't make the world a better place for me directly, I can begin by making it better for them. When the world is a better place, I am content. When I am content, the importance of differences fade, and I see the beauty in all, all, all of us.
tina
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)