Yes, I’ve been away for a while and for that I’m sorry. I just sometimes come across a writer’s block, I guess, and find that I have too much to say and too little to write. But I think this topic will fill us both up with things to ponder about. And more importantly, it will give us good cause to reflect on ways that talking to Jesus can actually help us overcome our struggles.

So I want to start by saying that as a little girl sitting in a Catholic church every Sunday really did not set well with me. I didn’t understand the process/flow of things and wondered why if Jesus is so alive, was He depicted everywhere hanging from a cross. Was He my God?

When I was a little older and understood a little more, I began to talk to God as though He were sitting right next to me. I would tell Him my deepest, darkest secrets and hope all would come out well.

Many, many years have gone by and now I still talk to Jesus, but more on a personal scale. I’ve grown to understand how Jesus ‘talks back’ to me. Sometimes it’s a thought in my head. Other times, it’s a circumstance that ‘just happens’ at the right time. Other times He talks to me through what I read or what people say. And other times Jesus just talks to me audibly in my dreams. Yes, I know how that sounds. Kind of kooky, I’m sure, but hey, I didn’t write the rules on this one.

So now I’m not only perplexed by the method in which He chooses to talk to me, but the fact that He talks back at all. I mean there are thousands of people who talk to God everyday and not one of them will audibly hear God’s voice talking back. So, why me? Well, let’s just skip that question for now, as it gets very complicated. Just suffice it to say that all these books you read and movies that are coming out regarding ‘encounters’ with Heaven…well, I believe every last one of them. If there’s one thing I know it’s that God is NOT dead and that He’s very much involved with our lives.

Take my life for instance. He is very interested in my ‘everything.’ From the clothes I wear to the color hair dye I put in my hair. He’s ultra aware that I love chocolate and that I will never weigh 120 lbs again, ever! (except in heaven!) But that’s okay.

He tells me things about my siblings and my children that I probably shouldn’t know and He tells me a lot about heaven and what it will be like. He also tells me things about the future, but not all things. He says that there are certain circumstances where I am not to know what lies ahead. I’m sure there are several reasons for that, including testing my faith. And yes, even though I speak with Jesus most days, I’m not a perfect person by any stretch of the imagination. Yes, I suffer from depression. So do a lot of other Christians. This is an imperfect world after all.

The reason I even write about Jesus talking to me is that I want you to know that it’s real. He’s real. He’s alive. And He’s willing to ‘take you on’ if you would turn to Him. Listen, I’m no angel like I said and I have disappointed Him, but He’s patient with me and He still loves me in spite of the way I’ve yelled at Him and disobeyed Him.

I need to be a better person, and I know I can be, knowing that Jesus is on my side. I can rise up and become the writer I want to be, but I can’t go missing 2 months of writing…that will not do. So make me accountable and tell me get to it. I have lots to say, hopefully a lot that will encourage you to march on and upward toward your goal.

I’m no psychologist or therapist. I’m not a lunatic escaped from a mental hospital and I don’t take psychotic drugs. I don’t have any fancy degree, but I do talk with Jesus, and He talks with me. If He says ‘everything is going to be okay,’ then it will. This goes for your problems as well as mine.

Take time today to reach out to the One who loves you most and best. He will communicate with you…somehow or another.

Until next time, God bless you.

Nancy

My ex-husband, who I’ll call Alan, is highly allergic to most everything. If it has a scent, or even if it doesn’t, he’s allergic to it. Candles, perfumes, grass, weeds, trees, flowers, dogs, cats, dust, carpet, soaps, new car smells, etc…. EVERYTHING. Can I use a cool smelling shampoo for my hair? No. Can I have a pet? No…and believe me I’ve tried. Can I burn a candle that makes the room smell like Christmas? No.

So, you see my problem. I’m not mad at him about it, although I really used to be. And he didn’t get these allergies until the past several years. So, at one time we actually had 2 cats in our house. But not any more. He can’t breathe if we have even one. He really loves animals too. It’s really a shame. So, I get tired of not being able to smell the good stuff in my life. If I even attempt to do so, Alan smells it on my clothes and tells me to take my clothes off, put them in the wash and then I need to take a shower.

Yes, it’s that bad. So, I’ve learned to live without all those wonderful smells, but when I get the chance to smell a candle that reminds me of the beach, or a batch of sugar cookies, I do, but that’s about all I can do.

I’m tired of Covid. For heaven’s sake, if people would just wear a mask until all this stuff goes away, why not do it? At least we would be over and done with all this disease. I feel for both sides…the vaccinated and the unvaccinated. We all have a cause, but this disease is rampant and a killer. How many of those who have died wished they had listened and taken the shot(s)? My son is one who is on the fence about getting the shot. And I get it. No one knows what long term effects will occur because of it. But all I have to do is listen to those who have the disease and with their last dying breath beg their family to take the vaccine. It’s kind of hard to ignore.

I’m tired of fires in California and beyond and all the flooding in the Northeast, and hurricanes in the south. If I didn’t know better, I’d say this was the “end times.” My mother, may she rest in peace, always said that, even when I was a little girl. How much worse does it have to get, I ask you?

I’m tired of all the political uprising. I don’t really care who’s in office. All I ask is that whoever is going to be our leader, just do the right thing! Getting our troops out of Afghanistan was the right thing to do, however, we probably should have moved a little faster and earlier. Several of our men died during that evacuation. This is truly a sad thing. We can’t fight everyone else’s wars or solve their problems. We have enough problems of our own.

And maybe I don’t understand the total picture of NASA, but how much money goes into our space program for stupid stuff that will never amount to any changes on this earth? I’m talking MARS. Who cares if we can run a dune buggy on the planet? How much money went into this project that could have been spent elsewhere for the good of those who are suffering? I just don’t understand! We’re talking billions of dollars being spent on space exploration that could have easily been spent on Medicare or helping victims of hurricanes, floods and fire. It just doesn’t make sense to me.

And what about the ‘chip’ shortage on cars and whatever other technical devices it’s used for!!! And now you can’t even buy a car that’s affordable, IF you can even find one! It’s a sellers market out there, but don’t think you can turn around a buy one without reaching way down in your pocket. You’ll end up upside-down before you even sign your sales papers. All due to Covid, they say. Hmm…I really wonder about that.

Okay, I think I’m done ranting. Every now and again I just have to vent my frustrations out. I appreciate you reading and “listening” to me. It makes me feel better.

Until my next post, God bless you.

After Mark, my autistic son, was placed in the residential School for kids and adults like him, I went ahead and filed for a divorce. This was the situation: I had my other two children with me and we were living with my friend Bella. We were doing fine until my soon to be ex-husband proclaimed that he would not be paying child support. Well, in my depression and lack of legal knowledge, I became scared because I had no income at that time. What was I to do with 2 children, no job and no where to permanently live? I was stuck. And I was really scarred.

So in my naive state I decided to ask Jelly (the name I’ve assigned for my ex-husband) if he would take care of the children until such time that I could find a job and a place to live. He said that it would be okay. I was able to see my kids freely at that time whenever I wanted, but it would soon turn out to be the worst mistake of my life.

Jelly got a ruthless attorney to represent him in our case and when I say ruthless, I mean he was horrible. He played dirty and below the belt. Jelly ended up getting away with all kinds of stuff with regard to the children including that HE became the residential parent because he said I gave the children back to Jelly because I couldn’t handle it and it ended up that I had to pay HIM child support once I got a job. It was horrible. After I had given my life for the those children and was a stay at home mom, I’m the one who got punished, not him. I became even more depressed than before.

But in March of 2005, I finally got a good job and payed the child support as was demanded of me. There was one big game changer in my life, however. I married Bella’s brother who I’ll call Alan. I met him at his mother’s funeral in May of 2002. We became very close over a few months’ time and when Bella and I moved briefly to California, I came back with Alan, and Bella decided to stay in California. Alan and I got married in Jan of 2004. So I now had someone who not only loved me, but supported me during the trauma of my divorce.

There were horrible things that happened throughout those years when I didn’t get to see my children because of HER…Satan’s spawn. The woman, if you can call her that, that my ex-husband married later in 2004. She was, or still is, a Pediatric dentist, that some people think hung the moon. While others who know her better, including her own children, know her as a narcissitic, evil doing skinny bitch. Pardon the language…

Until my next post, God Bless

I feel as though I only write about the doom and gloom in my life, which I guess is true. So, I’d like to take a little time to discuss some good news within my chaotic life.

As it turns out, the best news of my life is my faith in God, or rather His faith in me. I have become so much closer to Jesus, it feels as though He speaks to me audibly in my mind. It’s kind of like talking to yourself in your head, only it’s not me, it’s Him. It has become so exciting to be in a relationship with Him. He’s ever present and such a compassionate God.

The other people in my life besides my siblings are my husband and children. They have all stood up for me whenever it was called for. I have been surrounded by good people, and for that I’m grateful.

I live in a very nice house, have a nice car to drive and am financially secure. I can’t ask for anything better. I even get to take a vacation now and then, although I’m careful with all the Covid issues. I have to say that has taken over everyone’s life in one form or another.

I live in a great country where I am not persecuted for being a Christian, have been given opportunities and can go anywhere in the United States without the presence of armed military everywhere, as in some countries.

I have to say for those of us living in the United States, we are very blessed. I fear sometimes we take our freedom for granted, but if we were to go into another country it’s possible we would be without some of the comforts of home.

Well, I will be picking up on my story of my autistic son and my other 2 children in the next post. I simply needed to take a break from all the sorrow and depression that came with all the happenings of those times.

I still suffer from depression…bipolar, and I still struggle with times of severe ‘lows,’ but I’m one day closer to getting better and hopefully will see a light at the end of the tunnel soon.

Until my next post, which I hope to be sooner than later, God bless you.

I’ve been putting off writing this post, because, well, it brings back really sad memories. If you’ve been reading my blog posts you’ll know that my oldest son, who I will call Mark, was born with Autism. He is now 30 years old, but in the early days of his life, he was quite a handful. So much so, in fact, that my husband at that time, who I’ve named Jelly, and I decided that at age 11, Mark would need to be placed in a residential School for children and adults like himself…with a disability.

Jelly and I labored over this decision for many months, but in the end we believed it would be the best thing for him. He would be in a very structured environment, he would have his own bedroom and he would be provided a lot of activities to keep him busy. He may even be able to work in the community once he was older.

The glaring, obvious reason I didn’t want to do this is because it broke my heart. I can’t even begin to tell you how awful I thought of myself for ‘giving away’ my son. I’ve never felt so low and hurt in all my life. To take my child and leave him at an institution for disabled children/adults was by far the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do in my life.

I fixed up his bedroom with nice bed sheets and window treatments, a television and play station…he loved playing video games and he was VERY good at them. Of course he did not understand what was happening, or maybe he did…I would never know. And after a few months of being there he seemed to really like it.

But again I was plagued with guilt and shame. All of my family seemed to support me and it was somewhat of a relief to know he was being taken care of, but still, it haunts me to this day that we ever did that to him. Mark is no longer there and did not stay there hardly 12 months when one night he apparently had a really bad dream and ran out of his room in the middle of the night toward the main road. We were told that he could no longer stay there due to the potential danger.

So although it was short lived, it still happened and Mark ended up in the care of my then ex-husband, because by then we were divorced and I had moved to California. And that is a whole other post to write about.

Suffice it to say, Mark is now fine, or so I think he is. At this time, I haven’t seen or talked to him in 12 years. His father, Jelly, has refused to allow me to talk to him and has turned him against me. As mentioned before Mark is now 30 years old. I haven’t seen him since he was 18.

The days in Mark’s residential school happened a long time ago, but I remember them as though they happened yesterday. The hurt and pain of placing a child somewhere like this is so devastating, it hurts to the core of my soul. And although I believe it was a good thing for Mark, it didn’t help me very much in knowing that. I still suffered from horrible depression and it seemed to be only getting worse. Something had to happen in order for me to be okay. Something so extraordinary that it would take me from the pits of despair to some kind of ‘okay-ness.’

And something did happen, and the healing started…

Until next time, God bless you.

My life with my husband and three children was becoming too much for me. With my oldest son, Mark, having autism and my husband being a total jerk, I had fallen into a grave depression. My husband and I talked very seriously about putting Mark in a residential school for the disabled and had been given the financial support of a very wonderful cousin to do so. The only problem was the basic action of what it meant to do this. We were virtually agreeing to allow another entity to complete raising our child and giving him a structured home.

I couldn’t have felt more guilty for our thoughts and felt utterly useless as a mother. My depression only got worse and my life with my husband plummeted into a major issue. He kept doing things that made me so upset. For example, he knew I was not happy with the Orthodox church and yet I found out that he took all three of my children there without my knowledge and got them baptized. How did I find out you ask? Well, I was going through Mark’s dresser drawers looking for something and found 3 envelopes. Each envelope had the name of each of my children on it. And inside each envelope was a lock of their hair.

Why was there hair in these envelopes? Well, that’s what I wanted to know. So, I asked my husband when he got home from work. He told me they had cut their hair in order for them to be baptized. “WHAT????” I asked him why they did that. He said he didn’t know. And when I asked him if he thought to ask them…he said no. I was livid. I could not believe someone, anyone, would be that stupid to not ask why? We both read the same Bible. It’s not like it’s mentioned anywhere in the New Testament to cut hair in a ceremony of baptism.

Well, it was February of 2002 and I decided right then and there I wanted a divorce from the idiot who called himself a man. He was a spineless jellyfish as far as I could tell. Do you know what he said when I told him I wanted divorce? He said, “Okay.” I rolled my eyes and moved my stuff to the basement bedroom. He didn’t even care. So I proceeded onto telling my longtime friend, I’ll call her Bella, what had happened. She quickly let me know that me and the kids could come and live with her until I sorted everything out.

Because my husband and I had already scheduled Mark to enter the School for the disabled, we decided it would be less stressful for him if he stayed with my husband until the May admission date. So that’s what happened, but I still had him a lot just because I was available after school and my husband…okay, let’s give him a name…how about “Jelly”? My husband, Jelly, was still working.

Everything seemed amicable…at first. I was living with Bella after she helped me move all my stuff out of the house. Then the kids David and Kathy moved into the house with us as well.

I should insert here that before I ever moved out of my house I had taken all three kids to see my mother, 75 miles away, to let her know what had happened after I told Jelly I wanted a divorce. I had driven 11/2 hours when she greeted me in the driveway. She knew I was coming only because Jelly called her and warned her. She was very mad at me and told me to go home. I was never so disappointed. She didn’t support me or care that I was having so many problems. She just told me to work it out. Although divorced herself, she didn’t believe in it and felt that once you get married you should stay married.

Back to living with Bella…as I said it had all started out okay with my soon to be ex-husband after moving out, but there were problems coming up, including living outside the kid’s school district. I had to do something. I told Bella that I had to move into an apartment, or something, but I had no job. What could I do???

In the meantime, Mark was still attending elementary school, but would soon be leaving for “The School.” I wasn’t looking forward to that at all. It was my worst nightmare. But it was happening, and faster than I could keep up with.

Until next time, God bless you.

Nancy

We lived in the court for several years as the children grew, but it became apparent that David, my second son, would need to have his own bedroom away from Mark. Mark continued to get bigger, stronger and more clever. At one point he locked himself in the neighbors car trunk and had it not been for some really odd luck, we would never had known where to find him.

Mark became more stubborn too. He didn’t like to do things he was asked to do and he would get very angry. Because he was so strong, I began to become of afraid of him. Sad, but true.

I started looking for a bigger house and finally found one that fit our budget, had the four bedrooms we needed, and also had a wonderful back yard for the kids to play in. We soon packed our boxes again and were soon in our new house. Although it was stressful to move so often, we seemed to be bettering ourselves in the process.

The kids still got to go to the same school and things were okay for a while. But that didn’t last long when my husband and I started fighting over where we would go to church. Being a Christian, I didn’t want to go to the type of church I was raised in. I wanted to go to a more modern church where fellowship was great and the Bible was taught. My husband wanted to go to an Orthodox church which I did not like at all.

Several months had past and our personal lives became awful. I started working outside the home full time, but had to work very early in order to be home in the afternoon for the kids when they got off the bus. I never knew what my husband was making. All I know is that he paid the bills on time.

Mark was getting worse and it became very clear that we needed a plan for him. We would not be able to take care of him due to his extreme strength and quickness. We looked into several options and talked over the issue for a long time. Our lives were miserable and I became to feel so guilty over my feelings and thoughts about Mark.

How could we possibly put him in a home for disabled children/adults? I felt so awful even thinking I could do that to him. We looked into several options and the one that seemed the best for Mark was a School that helped kids and adults like Mark and got them to a point of actually getting him a job in the community, at least park time and getting him used to living in a dorm style room with a dining hall and bathrooms.

Although we loved the School, it was way over anything we could afford. But what happened was nothing less than a miracle. My husband’s cousin was a multi millionaire having made his fortune in sprinkler systems. My husband explained our situation and asked if he would be able to assist us in the payment for Mark’s spot at the school. He agreed with open arms.

So, although we were scheduled for Mark to go this School, nothing could have prepared me for what was coming next.

Until my next post, God bless you.

After several years of dealing with my autistic son, it became very clear my marriage was heading toward the rocks. It’s kind of what you would hear when a couple experiences the death of a child. The couple soon falls apart because the stress and hurt of losing a child is so deep and hard, nothing else really matters.

It’s clear from my current state that I’ve never really dealt with this loss. Yes, I still have my son, but it’s the loss of what most people would call a ‘normal’ son. He’s now nearing 30 years old, but still not able to carry on a normal conversation, can’t work because he can’t get along with others and he just isn’t ‘all there.’ It breaks my heart. It’s like I have a son, but I don’t really.

So in those earlier years, Mark (autistic son) was very hard to deal with, but as he grew older, things became even worse. He became stronger and faster. He would hit others when he was not happy and would run away more frequently. No one could keep up with him.

In the meantime, my marriage was on the rocks, Mark was getting worse, my other two children were also feeling the strain and my husband lost his job for which he never explained to my why. Things were about as bad as they could be, but one good thing was that my husband did find a job in a nearby city (70 miles away). So, we packed up the house and moved to our new location.

Although we were initially really excited about the school Mark would be going to, it ended up being the worst thing that could have happened to him. They totally ignored him and left him out of school activities. I was never so angry in my life. I quickly called his old school and explained our problem to them. I told them I would bring Mark to school everyday under the assumption we would move back to our old city as soon as we could find a house. Unbelievably, they allowed us to do that.

So everyday, I traveled 70 miles one way just to take Mark to school. During the day I would drive around with Kathy to look for houses. The moment I found one it would seem it was sold out from under me. It was a seller’s market and you had to write up a contract almost immediately if you wanted a house.

I finally was able to do just that and got a house that was in the right school district. I signed it without my husband even being there. But it was wonderful little house on a court where we could bring the kids back. In the meantime, I was still traveling 70 miles one way back and forth every day. It was becoming exhausting.

We finally were able to get into our new house and it was my husband who had to commute back and forth, not me. This lasted only a little while because once again my husband lost his job. I was becoming very suspicious as to the nature of his leaving several jobs now and couldn’t understand what the problem was.

But there we were in the new house. The kids had neighbor children to play with. Mark was settling in and I was trying to paint and decorate the house. Things were going okay, I guess, when one day in the afternoon the fire department and police knocked on my door. They asked me what the emergency was. I really didn’t know what to say because I never called them.

They said they had received a call from this address/phone. My mind suddenly opened up and realized that Mark must have been playing with the phones. The police would not leave until they saw him and knew everything was alright. We all went upstairs to the bedroom Mark was in and we peeked around the corner to find that he had the phone in his room and was sitting on the floor. Marked looked up and saw the firemen, smiled real big and said, “Help is on the way!”

I apologized to the police and explained the situation. They had no problem with it, other than the obvious and asked that we monitor the phones more closely. I promised I would. Apparently that day at school, the kids were taught to call 9-1-1 in the event of an emergency. Although I was happy to see that Mark knew how to call, I was equally concerned at the newest potential problem we now faced.

To sum things up to this point, Mark was getting not only faster and stronger, but smarter as well. Kathy and David, my other two, were getting along well with the neighbor children. And I was enjoying my 10th wedding anniversary with my husband who brought me home a basket full of roses that was formerly a centerpiece on a table at a conference he attended. I was never so hurt. My marriage just took another hit. It wouldn’t be long now.

Until my next post, God bless you.

My eldest son, who we’ll call Mark, was born with autism. It was a few months after his second birthday that we discovered something was not quite right with him. He stopped saying the few words he did know, was not able to sustain eye contact and was not able to play like other kids his age.

Hence began the journey of many years of frustration and pain. As described in previous posts. Mark had to be ‘trained’ to do pretty much everything. The things he could do on his own was walk, run, climb, swing and eat (preferred crunchy things.)

He was not potty trained until sometime after his fourth birthday. He could not say much except one syllable words, and even those had to be prompted and waited for. His first three syllable word was ‘applesauce.’ I was so thrilled that day, I gave him as much applesauce as he wanted.

Mark had extreme gross motor skills. He could run as fast, if not faster, than most adults. And he could climb higher than I was comfortable with. He had no fear of heights at all. He was physically amazing. But it was his lack of other attributes that tested our family’s sanity…well, at least mine.

Being a stay at home mom, I was the keeper of the house and children. Although my husband at the time did help out with some things, he was mostly out of the picture. I tried my best to keep a clean house and raise 3 children. But, it was not easy. Although I had the freedom to visit other stay at home moms, Mark was hardly ever cooperative. He never wanted to stay where we would go and would often times start yelling or at times became physical, hitting me, in order to get me to leave.

He did like going to McDonald’s. He loved their cheeseburger and fries. So, we were there more often than I would have liked. It was not only an outing for him, but for me as well. It was hard being cooped up in a house all day, every day. But, once Mark had finished his food, he would become restless and many times he would attempt to leave the McDonald’s and go out into the parking lot before I or my other two children had finished eating. It was always a hurried lunch.

It remained and continued to be a very tough road. Mark would improve in some things, but mostly his ability to talk and get along with others became increasingly worrisome. And as he got older he became stronger, physically, and often times he would scare me.

We had moved to a bigger house at the end of a road where it just dead-ended. Mark had finally figured out how to ride a bike at age 7 and he was riding up and down the street we lived on. I was standing in the middle of the street at the dead-end (our house was the last one on the street) when Mark came barreling down the road on his bike. Because I didn’t know which way he was going to go I just stood still so he could go around me. Well, his intentions were different and instead of going around me, he slammed right into me.

I was not only shocked, but hurt as well. I was left with several bruises. He had simply no fear of doing the wrong thing. There was no consequence I could possibly give him where he could learn a lesson. Naturally, I told him it was wrong and did all the correct parenting things, but it was impossible for me to know whether he understood what I was saying.

I was already depressed and became even worse. I was already on medication, but I was merely surviving. I was hanging on by the skin of my teeth. Being a Christian, I wondered where God was. I began poring myself into to Christian self help books. Why was God doing this to me? I am not a bad person. What was God trying to tell me or do to me? My entire foundation of faith was teetering on some very deep and dark questions about my God and I couldn’t understand why He was allowing this to happen.

Of course, I was not the only person who was suffering from these same situations. We hooked up with other moms (some single) who had children with these same problems. They were clearly dealing with their child in a similar fashion, but from my vantage point seemed to have better control of their own mental capacities. I was drowning in despair and so close to ending up in a loony bin somewhere.

Add to this other problems…my youngest, who we’ll call Kathy, was only 2 when we moved to our bigger house. One morning after I had gotten my 2 boys on the bus for school, I was in the kitchen waiting for Kathy to wake up. Soon I began to hear her crying, which was typical of her. I went upstairs and followed the cries, but couldn’t find her. I went into one room and found that not only was the window open, but the screen had been popped out. I ran to the window and looked outside and found that Kathy had somehow fallen out of the window and was outside on the ground.

I couldn’t run fast enough. I got to her and picked her up and ran back into the house. I called my husband and he told me to go to the emergency room with her and he would meet me there.

Kathy ended up having a few bruises, but there were no broken bones. Unbelievable. So, now my depression only got worse. My self-loathing increased. I thought I was a horrible mother who couldn’t take care of her children. Of coarse, that’s not the truth, but it’s what I began believing. It took years to work through all the problems.

And if things weren’t bad enough, they only got worse. I will continue this discussion on my next blog.

Until then, God bless you.

As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs (see my post list of titles to read), my eldest son was disabled with autism. There has been a lot of ads for support of autism of late on the television and internet, but back when my son was young, in the very early 90’s, there wasn’t a whole lot of information out there about this disease. In fact, when old enough to attend kindergarten, my son was the very first child they had with autism. And because of that there were even more struggles in my life.

In essence, I had to not only train myself and the counselors we hired, but on top of that I had to take on the county school board for the proper treatment and education for my son. I had to teach the teachers. I have to say they were exceptionally nice and willing to train my son. With the processes I showed them they taught him to read and write. And when he got home, he would read and write on our computer which was soooo animated looking back, but oh so helpful.

Our method of teaching him to read was by example and computer games. He loved the computer and at that time we used CD books such as The Little Critters children’s books where you could play with the pages and listen to the narration. It was great because what he would do is take the physical paperback book which came with the CD and write the page numbers and comments in the book. It was truly a wonderful thing.

That’s not to say times weren’t hard. We used the computer as a reward for good behavior too, because all was not well most of the time. My son spent many hours outside, even in the cold, in the backyard swinging on our swing set. It was due to a sensory issue that it ‘felt good’ to him to swing. So, when he’d have enough of that he would come inside and want to watch videos. We let him watch because many of the videos we had included songs. Singing was a great way to communicate with him since he had a hard time with that.

I say all this simply to let you know that although most of the time we didn’t know what we were doing, we learned as we went. Being the stay at home mom I received the brunt of most everything. My then husband stayed at work probably longer than he had to as to avoid having to help me with the kids.

And it’s not like I couldn’t handle my kids, but after a while, the strain of having a disabled child who NEVER called me mom, nor hugged me, nor ever talked to me began to takes its toll. Add to that two more children, although wonderful, were also young and needed their mom. And then add to that the sibling rivalry between these 3 children. The oldest being very physical and sometimes abusive, and the other two trying to deal with their brother. It was very, very hard. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

There were times when I couldn’t take it anymore and needed some time away, even just a day or two would help and it was then that I would either go to a hotel (not often though because we couldn’t afford it) while I allowed my husband to take care of the kids or I would go to my sister’s house for a little respite.

I remember one time when I was so depressed I couldn’t think straight and I was in desperate need of help when I went to spend the weekend with my sister who lived 70 miles away. She ALWAYS welcomed me with open arms (still does) and let me cry on her shoulders. But this one weekend I was really, really not doing well and so she decided to take me out to eat. She took me to a steak house, but I couldn’t eat, so then she thought we should go shopping. Shopping?? What was that? I hadn’t been in a mall in years much less bought myself anything of value.

I was in a fog and we were in a department store. I can’t remember the name of the store, but she stopped at the jewelry counter. I couldn’t remember the last time I bought myself a pair of earrings or necklace. I guess it was when I was single. It had been probably 7-8 years. Well, my sister pulled a necklace off the little rack and gave it to me to look at. I held it and immediately looked at the price tag. It was $16. I was in shock. I could never afford to pay that kind of money on myself. It was just a simple gold chain, but that was a lot of money to me and I told her I couldn’t buy it.

She called the sales lady over and told her she wanted it and paid the lady. She then gave it to me. I broke down in tears. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in so long I couldn’t believe it.

Now, you may think that’s stupid of me to cry over a stupid $16 necklace, but let me tell you, I was so very depressed I was nearly suicidal…and my sister knew it. I later told her how awful my husband had been treating me and how I constantly lived on pins and needles, because I never knew what was going to happen next. Was my son going to run out of the house in the middle of the night? Was he going to poop in the back yard again? Was he going to walk outside naked? Was he going to invite himself into someone’s house? I just never knew…and yes, he had already done all these things. And he was only 5.

I’m no expert on depression, other than I suffer from it, but if you or someone you know has depression and is stuck in a situation similar to mine, know that this person could use some respite. If you are the one who needs it, get someone to handle your issues while you take some time to yourself.

If you know someone with depression who could use your help, reach out to them and take them shopping or take them out to eat. Or just stop by and let them know you’re thinking of them and ask them what they need. You might be surprised to find out they just need a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. Let them know you are interested in them and their situation. When you’re depressed, just having someone in your corner is a big deal to them.

Until next time, God bless you.