Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) Online Support Group--New

Do you, or someone you know or love, have OCD (Obsessive compulsive disorder)? I know people who do. Beth Green, a volunteer for a new, free OCD online support group, wants your help to spread the word. Read more and click on the link to join in ...

My name is Beth and I volunteer to help spread the word about a new free Obsessive compulsive disorder online support group.

As I know this falls within your interest I thought that you might want to help us in the quest to reach as many people as possible (the more people know about the group the better help they will get). You can support us in many ways (not financially): telling people you know, linking to it, writing a blog or forum post and participating in the group discussions.

Your help is much needed and any support will be most appreciated.
You can check out the group at: http://www.mdjunction.com/obsessive-compulsive-disorder.

Have a great day,
Beth

Sincerely,
Beth Green, POB 200067, Pittsburgh, PA

Therapy is great!

There, I’ve said it and now I can stop and make this the shortest post in history, but I won’t. I will blab away and tell you why I say what I do, and do what I say … and what inspired this post.

Like you, I like to read many blogs and most of them are located on my blogroll where you will find the Brazen Careerist blog. The reason why I like her blog is why a lot of people like it -- the human and self interest side -- the personal stuff. Her blog is meant to help those in business to learn and grow using her successful ideas and suggestions -- all good. However, she also blogs about her personal life, some stuff so humorously shocking (for a business blog) that I continue to read -- as do most people who like to read the juicy stuff now and then (and don't pretend that that's not you, too). Btw, she mentioned that she thinks she might have Asperger’s syndrome (perhaps in a more tongue in cheek manner), but her young son was diagnosed with the disorder.

One of her posts was one of which my eyes did a double take and I smiled. "How to decide if you need to see a therapist” is the title. I loved seeing it even before I read it, because I'm one of those people who believe in the power and the rewards of a good therapist, and I am emphasizing the word: “good.”

Do run from the bad therapists and search for a good one. And you will know when you have found each of the two: A bad therapist will make you feel stupid, boring and undeserving (yeah, that happened to me). And a good therapist will know why you're there in the first place.

A lot of people believe that seeing a therapist is a sign of weakness, of shame. But that attitude is the actual weakness if you ask me. To have enough love for yourself, the desire to know yourself better, and the courage to be the best person, parent, husband/wife that you can be, is what seeing a therapist is all about.

I’ve told you before that Nick and I see a therapist together because he is on Luvox for his anxiety and OCD, and the one-hour long, one day a month appointment with B (our therapist) is actually required. At first I thought, ugh, a whole hour spent with someone because we are "forced" to and that Nick talks incessantly about only two topics: how nervous he is in school and about superheroes.

Come to realize soon after, it was a blessing. Hint: she’s a good therapist; someone who will let you know what she thinks without holding back -- is a very good thing, and the fact that she’s very aware of Nick behaviors and of autism spectrum disorders is everything for us -- almost like a substitute parent for an hour -- while I suck down my latte and enjoy the view…

Then one day I just opened up and divulged my true feeling about everything that I was dealing with in my life (I'd found the courage) and it was like a huge weight was lifted from my shoulders -- because that was where all my problems and the problems of my kids were resting. It was a moment of clarity and certainty; a moment that I was able to see more clearly the kind of person and mother that I was to Nick, and to Meghan, for that matter. She also gave me confirmation and validation about my feelings and about my heart-wrenching decision of residential placement for Meghan -- and the educated opinion of someone who understands and who has been there.

Friends are also good people to talk to about your problems -- and expected, but sometimes friends can’t tell you what they really think in fear of hurting your feeling, nor do you really want to burden them with heavy problems and major decisions.

In therapy sometimes B and I just gab away … she gabs about her interesting family and of growing up with a father who she believed had Asperger’s syndrome, and I gab about my personal and family problems, issues, concerns -- of course! We talk. We laugh. We drink lattes -- until Nick interrupts to say: “EXCUSE ME, is it my turn yet!!?”

Ahhh, we love therapy!!

Music to my Ears

Nick is improving before my very eyes—or ears, rather. A couple of years ago he would be a nervous wreck going off to school, and he had the need to ask the same questions over and over to both me and to his teacher—he would perseverate. He was in 5th grade when it all came collapsing in. He was found sitting under his desk, yes, under. The teacher called me in for an emergency meeting to tell me what had happened, and I had requested Dr. C to join us. Our school system was very fortunate to have a PhD of Psychology (Dr. C), who specialized in autism, working for our school district—a blessing because he helped me with both my kids and was very talented in working with autistic kids and their behaviors, and I trusted his instincts. He told me that he was certain that Nick needed medication for his anxiety. I, at that time, was still very much against medications if other therapies could work, but in this case, he clearly needed the help.

Upon finding Nick a good psychiatrist and a good therapist (two different people), his psychiatrist is someone who is only following his medication (and someone who I and the other therapist suspect of having Asperger’s Syndrome, himself—interesting!).

The aforementioned therapist is a woman who has specialized in helping children and adults with autism spectrum disorders and has been in her field for many years.

It was advised by both of these professionals that Nick should go on medication to help him with his anxiety and perseveration proclivity. We put him on Fluvoxamine (or Luvox), suggested by the psychiatrist and the therapist agreed that it was a drug known to work well for kids on the spectrum.

As I once mentioned, in a previous post (s), that it had worked remarkably well for him, he even asked me: “Why does this make me feel better, I don’t want to feel better because now I have to got back to gym.” (Note: he didn't have to attend gym while we were searching for the therapists and meds because it made him more anxious.) Interesting psychology here, though—and smart boy. No, my kids are not sport enthusiasts beyond swimming and trampoline jumping.

I blame myself because I, too, hated gym growing up. I mean who the heck invented dodgeball? Or the sports-enthusiasts mentality that sports matter more than friendship does and if you don’t catch the high flying ball while standing in center field, then You Suck!

So before meds, Nick would tell me that he hated gym at least three times while just walking to his bus (van) in the morning, and, now, he’ll tell me maybe once that he hates gym or school if he happens to think about it—this morning and yesterday morning he didn’t say either one. Hmm, I knew something was different!!

His conversational skills have also improved, significantly. He used to go on and on about a certain topic until I would tell him that he needed to talk about something else—anything else. I mean he would just say the same thing over and over again (perseverate) and not let-up. I remember how I would just want to scream, but I wouldn’t; instead, I would try to tell him that it was time to talk about something else as calmly as possible w/o making him feel more self-conscious than he was. It was funny because, before the meds, the therapist told me that I was being henpecked all day long. I laughed. Not just a regular laugh, but more like a hysterical-like laugh because she was right! Ah, people who understand and truly get it!! Love therapy, just LOVE IT!!

But, today, he hardly ever goes on and on about a topic or asks me the same questions over and over—at least not at the same time.

So is it the drugs?—even though he is only on 50 mg per day, a very low dose, and has grown at least 5 inches and has gained at least 20 pounds since he started the meds. Or is it the school that he attends? Or is it just the fact that he is growing up? Time will tell in a year: after he starts high school and after we take him completely off the meds to see for ourselves.

So stay tuned …

Asperger's Syndrome and Hot Buttons

Oh, I was at the hair cutting place (Snip its) with Nick getting his hair cut today and the Hair Cut Lady (as Nick calls her) was going on and on about how he has gotten sooo tall … and I quickly interjected (quick but casual, as to not scare the poor woman) and said very politely, “Oh, he doesn’t like hearing that, he wants to be young and small” (so kindly shut the hell up—please). (You may want to read my "Dreams of Jail" post before this one to understand the horror that could ensue … but let’s just say it’s a real hot button.) And, as luck would have it, she didn’t get the hint, or the message, or the nature of autism. Instead she went on:

"What grade are you in now, Nick"
"8th"
"Oh, wow your getting so OLD and sooo tall for your age … I still can't believe how TALL you’re getting. " Then she turns to me:
"Mom how do you feel that he’s sooo much BIGGER than you?"

Did she see my snarl?

While I was calmly sipping my Starbucks coffee and thinking: oh, for the love of God, shut the f… up!! And enjoying my coffee like it was my last meal, because I knew all too well that I would be crucified during the car ride home.

And I was right …

He went on and on and on … my lovely car ride home was supposed to involve me sipping my yummy coffee; humming to the music of my favorite stations; while driving with my windows rolled down and enjoying the last of the summer's afternoon air…

Alas, that is not how it went, instead I did my best to keep him calm (sweating) while he started kicking and punching the dashboard and seat of the front seat of the car. And then realizing that all of his teachers must be calling him a "big boy" at school and “older” and “taller,” and doing this everyday, too. And being that he is in the 8th grade and among the oldest in middle school, that he must be the tallest kid in his class, or close to it, so they're (kindly) acknowledging his height and it’s becoming a theme. All I would need is for him to be awarded “Most Grown During Summer Vacation” for it to be his banner year!

I will have no choice but to send the teacher an e-mail titled: “Red Alert” on Monday—first thing.

Living with Aspergers/Autism: personality/disorder

Living with aspergers is probably the most interesting component of being a parent. Hey, who wants to raise a boring, typical kid anyway? Aren’t they usually materialistic and just hang out with their typical peers and age appropriate friends? Yeah!

But I’ve got someone else who has a very interesting approach to life and verbal spew. My son, Nick, tells me how it is—how it really is, and to everybody else as well, for that matter. I love this component to his personality: a telltale sign that he will always speak his mind freely and openly.

As with most people/kids on the autism spectrum, they do not understand little white lies, sarcasm and figure of speech…

For instance, when I ask Nick if I have wrinkles on my face—like around the eyes and mouth? He says an emphatic—"YES! "

Do I need my hair highlighted, can you see my roots, Nick? —"YES! "

Do I look a little fatter today than I did yesterday, Nick? …Well you get the picture.

One does not have to be autistic to be this painfully honest, all young kids are, as we know—they haven’t learned this little, delicate skill yet; but as autistic kids get older, they still hold on to that “Oh, so cute, brutal honesty” component that makes them so endearing—but only in some social settings.

Of course we help them learn the “play act” of little white lies in society; we need our kids to be accepted and liked, after all.

Same thing goes for sarcasm and a "figure of speech" concept. I’m still trying to teach this to Nick. He takes everything so literally, and he so often will come home from school peeved about something or other… and it’s my job to ask him what happened? (This time!) And what did this person say to him? And to help him understand—it’s not personal!! (Then I need to define—“It’s not personal.”) Ugh, and the vicious cycle expands.

For instance, the other day I said to him “Oh, don’t eat Wasabi, it's so hot (spicy) you'll die!” Uh, his eyes blew open and my autism meter was in the red.

He does get very mad at himself when he takes things too far. It’s his nature—the perfectionist (OCD) side of his personality (disorder); or when he can’t do something successfully the very first time, like win at his Nintendo DS or Wii games; or even ride his bike—his temper goes into overkill:

Personality and disorder—tell me, does one define the other? Nick’s disorder does affect his personality in more ways than one. Outside of his autism lies a boy who is fun, easy-going and has a great sense of humor. Which other people also enjoy and love him for.

The other side is his monster: OCD, perfectionism, anxiety-ridden burden that he is learning to live with (and me too); to reduce it, to shrink it down to an itty-bitty flaw and nothing more… I mean we all have flaws; no ONE is perfect.

That’s my job!

More on Disorders

Candy Cigarettes for Kids---Why??

My son, Nick, has a mild case of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) as do a lot of kids on the spectrum, but I think it is fair to say that he does become overly obsessed about a subject, person, or a thing more than his typical peers. In the past it has always been about Superheroes: Spiderman, Batman, Superman--you name it, he’s obsessed about it. However, his latest obsession seems to revolved around--now get this--candy cigarettes.

I don’t know how exactly he made the “maturing” leap from superhero video games to cigarettes; I can only tell you that we are NOT smokers, and we don’t have friends or family who smoke; but someone in society has struck his interest, or maybe school health class because they did a series on: Why you should not smoke and "showed" a video. Either way, he picked up on smokers and is now--obsessed. Now he does know--from health class and from us-- that smoking is unhealthy and I reinforce that smoking is very bad--causes addiction, and can shorten your life…blah, blah, blah…is probably what the boy has been hearing because he’s still obsessed with the subject. A phase, perhaps, but listen to this little adventure:

We were away for a week at the cape (Truro) and went to the flea market that is set up at the Wellfleet Drive-in Theater--if you know the cape, then you know this place. Well don’t you know Nick spotted a toy cigarette; looks real, but, of course, it wasn't and, "dontcha know," that his father actually bought it for him. I was floored and Nick was in make-believe cigarette heaven...

“Good God!” was what I had to say along with a little prayer when Nick and I were waiting inside our minivan for my husband and daughter to finish up shopping, and I had the van door wide open. I casually notice two older nuns walking by from a mere distance and were, seemingly, interested in our car--Hmm, I thought, so I turned to look at Nick seated in the rear of the car. He was relaxing back, feet up on the seat and just puff, puff, puffing away on his “cigarette.” Puffing as real as a real cigarette would look--the boy could have won an academy award for his role under the category: “Fake-Cigarette Smoking.” Horrified, I looked at the nuns, the nuns looked at me, we all looked at Nick, and Nick was just smiling away and oblivious… and if my face looked horrified, they looked like two sopranos singing in a choir. I had to turn away and laugh--just a little--but what else could I really do? Jump out and yell across the parking lot: “ It’s just a ‘toy’ cigarette that my 13 year old is puffing on to his heart's content and that I ... um… bought for him..." Yeah?… NO!! I let it go and I “prayed” that they would just keep on walking… "Have a nice day, Sisters…”


Candy and toy cigarettes need to come off the market!!