Guest Blog: All By Myself

Please welcome back The Suniverse today. I hope everyone is having a fabulous weekend and enjoying your holiday safely.

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My near-maniacal need to take care of things BY MYSELF is an attribute I always found quite endearing, and one which others find endearing as well.  If by endearing you mean something that makes people want to stab you with really, really sharp toothpicks.  I will generate this response in people who watch me flail around, trying to do something that I really, really can’t do, but refusing to ask for help even as I hurtle past the point of rational action and into that dark territory where hacking at a jelly jar with a really big knife seems like a perfectly acceptable method of removing the lid.  I will do this because I do not like to ask for help.

Because I am very much a person who feels that asking for help makes me a loser.

It doesn’t make you a loser if you ask for help.

Just me.

Yeah, I don’t completely get it, either.

Part of it is being independent, of being free.  Of listening to Kelly Clarkson singing, “Whatever happened to Miss Independence?” and thinking, “Hell, yeah, Kelly, sing the shit out of that song – whatever DID happen to Miss Independence? Stand up, you lazy girl!”

Part of it is that thrill of self-reliance, of completing something on your own, of needing no one else.

And part of it is making sure that I know, deep down, that I can handle anything. 

The thing is, I LIKE being independent.  I really do.  I like being able to think for myself and do for myself [I mean, not stuff like cleaning or killing bugs or figuring out how to change out the propane tank – what am I married for if I’m doing all of that?] and make decisions and say that we’ll be eating chicken for dinner AGAIN tonight because I said so.

Except when I can’t.

The times I can’t, the times I am completely at a loss to be that independent woman really, really terrify me.

I’m a complete mess.

I was not raised to be that woman who clings, who asks permission, who needs someone to guide her.  I mean, I was raised to be that woman, but I threw off those shackles pretty quickly and thoroughly.

What steals my independence now, what makes it so hard sometimes to be who I truly am, is anxiety and its bastard cousin panic. 

Those two have screwed me up and down and all around.

And I hate them for it.

I hate them for stealing my abilities and for crippling me and making me so uncertain and insecure that I have found myself standing in a department store for 40 minutes, looking at sale rack of clothing, totally and completely unable to decide if I should get the black $7 pair of leggings or the gray $7 pair of leggings. 

I’ve come back from that.  I’ve moved forward and I’ve been freed.  But it was a long, hard journey and one that is not completely over.

And so I tend to hang on to that banner of independence and do-it-for-yourself-ness even when I know, rationally, I shouldn’t.  Why not ask the husband if he can pick up a loaf of bread on the way home? BECAUSE I CAN GO TO THE STORE MYSELF, NOW, THANK YOU.  That’s why.  Because I can.

But just because I can, doesn’t mean I always have to.  That’s the part of independence I need to work on – the part that says it’s o.k. to be independent as part of a team that works together.  It’s o.k. to ask for help.  It’s o.k. to sometimes NOT be the responsible one.

And maybe just sit around and jam out to Kelly Clarkson and eat jelly on my bread.

BoB Guest Post: Mini Media Mavens

Hi everyone! This is Mommylebron from Rage Against the {washing} Machine, host of the Bipolar Tuesday that you see here from time to time. I'm going to trust my inflated ego today who tells me you all know who I am and no further introduction is necessary. (sigh, Low Self-Esteem kicked in her two cents and wants you to click the link if you don't know who I am).

I have the honor of participating in a monthly blog carnival for special needs families called Best of the Best. Every month the group is given a topic and we all share posts with our unique perspectives. For this month I am sharing my post here on the Poop! Aren't you excited? (This is where you nod and smile)

This month for BoB we were asked to consider the impact of media with our special needs kiddos. There is so much media exposure to our kids these days and there’s only so much we can do to limit it. In our house we do not have cable and never have. We stick with Netflix and DVDs. Even still my kids seem to keep up with pop culture effortlessly.

We are surrounded by commercialism in every aspect of our lives. My approach is education and awareness. I teach my children about marketing tactics and the value of money. For example, we know that our yogurt unadorned by goofy cartoon characters is just as yummy. I am also frank about what I feel is appropriate and what is not. I recently sat down and watched some of “Toddlers and Tiaras” with LeBella, who is ten. She could not believe her eyes. “Why do their moms let them dress so fresh and act like that?” I can only hope she retains this opinion.

And I also believe in teaching them to harness and use media themselves. LeBella has her own blog, Silly-licious Princess, she uses as a platform to share her creativity as well as to teach people what it is like to grow up with bipolar disorder. She understands now that there are other kids like her and she wants to reach out to them to show that they are not alone. And she wants to give their parents an idea of how they think. Her choice to blog was a big step. It showed that she had finally over come the stigma she placed on herself.Her voice is as close to the front line as we can get.

Media is a powerful tool. And like all powerful tools, it contains the power to both destroy and to build. We must teach our kids both to build and to protect themselves from those who destroy.

Mommylebron