Solace; an adventure away from the world Part 1- the Doldrums.

The final map including locations and distances is shown above.

We packed for about 2 hours before we left.  We brought a tent, some camping supplies, some clothing, a few items of personal effect.  Both being technophiles, I wasn't sure how a whole week without our phones was going to go.  I knew I *could* do it, I had before, but Lucien I wasn't so sure about.  He said he was excited to see the adventures I had planned, but being an inexperienced camper, and having never been west of the Sault, I wasn't sure what to expect of him.  I had nothing to worry about.

We left the morning of July 9th and headed for the land above the bridge.  The weather was warm, and we wore soft smiles on our faces as our troubles faded further and further from our immediate thoughts.  Our talks were excited quips back and forth until about Bay City, where our cell service started to die, (we were using our phones for music.)
So, at Bay City, the ipod came out and we played music I had picked up, a random assortment from Janelle Monae to Coheed and Cambria, and of course, everything in between.

As we got ready to cross the bridge, I offered to drive, but Lucien said he was able.

I had our path memorized; our first destination was a place I had been many times before with Paul and the kids.  I had mixed feelings about going there.  I wanted to see it, to be there, to breathe the air of the place, but I didn't want the old feelings to come back, and the sadness of missing my children.  I breathed deep of the cigarette I had lit and guided Lucien on; M-123, to Paradise Michigan.

We hit the lower falls of Taquaminon first, a small gentle rapids.  Luci's breath was taken away, I kept hearing the giggles of my brood, who were several hundred miles away.  I caught onto Luci's enthusiasm though, and soon we were both giggling like children, running from view to view.  I even took him about a half a mile onto the North Country Trail.  We bounded back up the trail and decided to head to the campground to make camp.

Lucien on the North Country Trail near Lower Taquaminon Falls.

We had a small amount of trouble finding the campground I had reserved, but we had camp set up within an hour of arriving.  We decided to pick up a few things at the grocery store, then headed to Whitefish Point.  We got there just before sunset.
I thought of the previous times I had been there, how it was always cloudy and grey, and how my companions would all disappear to do their own thing, there I was, hand in hand with Lucien, who was becoming a bit grumpy due to the blackflies and the lack of rest and food.  He took some absolutely amazing photos however, and we headed back to camp to make a fire and cook hot dogs.

Sunset at Whitefish Point

We met up with a couple, their kids and their brother in law from Grand Rapids, whom we shouted jokes back and forth with all evening regarding the size of our campfire compared with theirs.  We retired about 11pm, but their talks and drunken laughter lasted until wee into the morning.

The first night was cold and our mattress was not inflated all of the way, I slept well, but poor Lucien slept terribly.


We woke up the next morning, he sleep deprived and unhappy, I had a craving for coffee and didn't want to make a fire, so I headed to town to pick up breakfast for us.
I arrived to find camp completely taken down and Luci asleep on the picnic table.
I left him his breakfast and wandered off into the woods.  I got about a forth of a mile up the trail before I decided to turn back and check on him.
He was ready to go this time.  We decided to head to the upper falls hand in hand.

Upper Taquaminion Falls

I felt the presence of my sons and my ex there, from happier times from before he went mad, I felt myself too, laughing while running away from my parents, a full canteen when I was 16.
We decided to hit Marquette, in particular a park I went to as a young child, and was taken to once in my early teens.  We went by way of Munising.

Iron out the wrinkles: Autism Speaks and it's "advocacy"

Don't get me wrong.  I'm all for support of autistic people.  We should be supporting them, though... Not trying to fix them.

Read this.  Have a look, let it sink in.

http://autisticadvocacy.org/2014/01/2013-joint-letter-to-the-sponsors-of-autism-speaks/

I'm on the spectrum.  I have a form of autism called "dyspraxia".  Back when I was diagnosed at the age of 6, it was called a "learning disability", because the major way that it operated affected my learning.

See, I couldn't write a legible thing.  No one could read my handwriting.  It was widely known I had a much larger than average vocabulary, but I just couldn't EXPRESS myself.  The school actually bought my family a computer, an Apple IIe, so that I could write.  I hated writing as a child, now it is something I love.

But adding to the other difficulties, there are some social aspects of the disorder which caused me a lot of trouble in school.
I took things literally.

One kid, his name was Ricky, called me a fox in Kindergarten.  I was offended and really upset.  I ran home crying to my mother saying that someone had called me a fox, and I certainly was not that furry!  Or had 4 paws, or a tail, or anything that resembled a fox what so ever.  My mother was confused, but then when she realized what I was thinking, she chuckled and said "he thinks you're pretty, honey."

In all of my medical documentation of that era, there is a running theme of "above average intelligence" but there is also a running them of "beautiful little girl".  "This beautiful six year old girl...[medical jargon]"

Up until a few months ago, I had never seen the paperwork, my parents never told me what I should and should not be able to do.  They always just told me to try my best, to work my hardest, and that things may take me a bit longer, but that's ok.  "Just take your time and you'll do just fine honey."  They taught me perseverance.

Another part of my Autism is the fact I am hypersensitive, but with that hypersensitivity comes the ability to be very in touch with my emotions, something that has served me well in this past year especially, but also in my life.

I'm not saying I'm a more "evolved" human being, or something like that.  I'm just different.  I think of things differently, I process things differently, and you know what?  As long as I am not hurting anyone, my differences are perfectly ok, and in fact, are part of what makes me who I am.

In the anime "FLCL", there is a running theme of a huge iron that serves as a factory on a river.
They refer to "Ironing out the wrinkles."  Taking all of the individuality out of a person, making them "ordinary."  That thought is dreadful.  Mr. Rogers wouldn't be impressed folks.  He told all of us he loved us just the way we are.  And yes, he meant it.  If you flatten the image, how dull it becomes!

So, organizations that wish to "eradicate autism", a disorder that is pretty much a different way of thinking and feeling, makes me angry.  Those who are affected who can't speak?  They still have feelings, they still find ways to express how they feel about things, they are still HUMAN, and most of them are pretty darn happy with who they are.  They know they think differently, and in most cases, don't care to think like you at all.  They are happy with their mind and where it wanders to.

If you are a parent to one of these wonderful non-neurotypical individuals, cherish them, love them, listen to them, and if they can't express what they are feeling to you, try another way.  Try handing them a notepad and colored pencils and tell them just to draw whatever they feel like drawing, show them music, show them art, read to them, interact with them, and if they are giving you signals they need to be left alone, leave them alone, but check in every now and again.  When they are done in their own little world, they don't always know how to tell you that.  And you don't have to say anything to them, just stoop quietly somewhere in the room.  This says "I'm listening and I'm waiting for you to come out."  And they will.

My oldest son is autistic and falls on the spectrum at what would have been called "Asperger's disorder".  He is a loveable kid with a lot of energy, who just likes to talk about the same 5 things over and over again, BUT, he's brilliant.  There isn't a subject in school that I think could get the better of him.  Emotional intelligence though?  Yeah, that's sorely lacking.  He can't accurately express his disappointment, and it comes out as rage and temper tantrums, screaming again and again "it's not fair!"
Yeah kiddo, hate to say it, life isn't fair.

I tried to protect you guys, but because my social queues weren't what they should have been, I missed obvious signs of pedophilia in someone we lived with, and the state took you away.  What's fair about that?
Nothing, because life isn't fair.

Yes, the state can take your kids away because you are autistic.  And THAT, is something to scream about, and THAT, is the fault of these misguided advocacy organizations telling the government that having your brain work differently is a PROBLEM and should be eradicated.  If you are harming no one, it should not matter how your brain works.  If you are causing harm to someone, then we should start talking about law and how that comes into play.  But shit, I can barely tell if someone wants to be my friend or murder me, how am I supposed to know how to spot someone with an intangible disease that half of the time psychologists, who by the way are trained to spot these things, cannot even determine reliably?

People fear and attack what they don't understand, like the witch hunts in Salem in the 1700's.  Or an earlier example, the dark.

Now, I know that much of what I am saying will likely get misinterpreted.  I'm ok with that.  These are my opinions, and I am sharing them knowing that not everyone will agree... Let's just not be dicks about it, ok?

Adventures in turning off the big fan

"Turn off the big fan outside, would you?"
He asked.  He was my colleague and mentor at work, and I had gotten into the habit of writing him when I got home because at least  someone cared that I had arrived safely.  My husband seldom noticed.
I didn't decide to take the adventure, so much as the adventure chose me.

Adventure is a kind way to put it.

A few days later, inklings came, which made me suspect that everything I knew and came to accept as true weren't, and that my greatest nightmare had come real.
And I decided to go and turn off the fan.

My solid backing, family who helped me erect my building of brick and stone, I stepped out of the safe confines of my house and jumped.  

The wind was intense, I watched my husband blow away, my adopted sister and nephews next, her boyfriend, an old friend of mine, blowing past, beyond where I could reach them.

I was in a wind tunnel.  I started grabbing wildly for familiarity, my sons next, I got a hold of them, but could not hang on, my heart broke, and I stumbled.

Cat saw me and threw a rope, I grabbed on, still trying to grab my boys, my mom, still trying to stand against the wind, mentor with cleats dug in, standing behind me, trying to hold me up, he blew away.

My eyes hurt from the dirt in the wind, tears fell.

In the swirling noise of the void, days faded into one another, more crazy random things blew my way.  I grew tired.

George came up behind me and showed me how to cinch the rope around my waist.  He showed me how to brace for the gusts and how to breathe in the madness without allowing it to consume me.  I tried to lean heavily on him, and he allowed himself to be blown away, "That's not the point of the exercise, Dee.  You can't change it, so embrace it."

I sat clinging to the rope for dear life.

But then, the fatigue set it, the horrible, horrible fatigue that sets in after holding a rope for 6 months.  And free time, and the want to write.

I simply let go of the rope, I could not hold on anymore.

I landed on my feet, "thunk, thunk" the pain in my knees astounding.  I sat on the cool earth, opened my eyes and found myself in the hookah lounge, computer in front of me, novel nearly written.

A chat open with a man named Steven, and the wind had all but stopped.

Just when I thought the whole thing was a dream, George came up to check on me with a smile on his face while rolling a cigarette.

Cat came after that, and John (her then boyfriend), and the other hookah bar staff, I had made friends somehow... and a few days later Steven and I went on our first date.

These days, the wind gusts, but doesn't carry me away.  I hold Steven's hand, we shoulder each others burdens.  My friends are in a v shape behind me, always ready to catch me.  They were at the bottom of the ravine the whole time, waiting.  Family, waiting.  

And to the wind, I say thank you for your gifts.

To the abyss, I say thank you for catching my family and friends.

And to the beyond, I thank you for your bliss.

Braided blue ribbons: Child Abuse Prevention Month

If you've stumbled upon this, you are most likely a friend.  I'm asking for specific help for a specific cause.
Namely, my daughter.

It came out in late July last year that my ex husband had been sexually abusing my daughter from the time she was 4 years old onward, under my nose, whilst I was asleep at night.

She is now 14.  This brave young lady deserves our praise, and needs our support.

Last month, she (I am specifically not using her name until she gives me the ok to do so,) was asked to discuss the details of the abuse in class.  She prepared a presentation and presented it to the class.
She talked about the abuse, what happened, the legal proceedings regarding it, and how I lost my children due to my ignorance in the issue.

What happened afterward surprised even me.

The children in the class started calling her names.

She wrote the names on her arm.  

She also wrote some inspirational quotes to keep herself going.

Her instructor was busy and unaware of the bullying.

Her Father pulled her out of the school almost immediately afterward, and sent her to a new school district.  (This was the last straw, she was not happy in the district due to the heavy scrutiny she received from classmates on other issues.) 

I want her to know she is supported by a lot of people, and that her story is not one of defeat, but one of success and overcoming the odds.  I want her to feel empowered, surrounded and protected by the community at large.
It is important in the case of child sexual abuse that the victim be encouraged to tell his or her story, so that they can move beyond it and become the people they need to be.

This is a braided blue ribbon, it is the ribbon associated with child sexual abuse to honor and remember the victims.  I think it should be more than this.  I think, if you wear this ribbon and it's braided in such a fashion, children should know they can come to you with their problems.  They should know that you are a safe adult who is familiar with the issues and moreover will protect them if they come to talk to you about it.

In the case of my daughter's ribbon, it is bound together with safety pins, as she professes to be a bit of a "goth/punk" gal.

Here's the thing.  My daughter's abuser is attempting an appeal.  I do not have exact dates and times yet, but, I was wondering, could we all agree to wear braided blue ribbons that day?  Her attacker needs to remain behind bars; in just the few months he's been gone, she's made tremendous strides in therapy and as a person.  She finally feels safe.  I need her to know she's going to be safe as long as we have something to say about it.