Guest guest Posted November 3, 2001 Report Share Posted November 3, 2001 Ron, That is really incredible! that you could remember a feeling so intense that would compare to your childs agony. I have no feelings like that to relate to. I wish I did. Or maybe I don't. I am just glad that this can help you connect to your son in a new way! Jacquie H > Ever since Sam has been dx'd I've been wondering how he truly > feels...especially when he is frustrated, crying, angry and all those other > moods he shows. Somewhere inside of me, there is something that tells me if > I know how he feels, I may be able to comfort him better during these times. > Then I remembered the golf ball: > > I was so young, 4 maybe 5 years old. I couldn't have been too much older > than this because my mom was using the pay telephone outside of the Stop & > Shop. She had left my dad when I was 3 and struggled to house, feed and > clothe my sister and I. We lived on the 2nd floor of a 3 story tenement > apartment in Fall River, Mass. which my aunt and uncle owned and she didn't > have a phone. At the time party lines were still in existence but still, > this was too expensive for a woman working in a sewing mill making maybe 75 > or 80 dollars a week. Though she could use my aunt's phone, I think she > chose to use a pay phone for privacy. > The phone she was using was at the outside corner of the market. Just beyond > the market was a chain link fence that protected the public from a concrete > culvert that jutted out from the parking lot and continued downward to the > Quechachan River where it dumped its contents of wastewater. > As she talked on the phone, my eyes explored the culvert that dropped perhaps > 7 or 8 feet below me. On the other side of the fence, worned by repeated > climbing, I noticed a golf ball. I tried to reach for it, hoisting my > jacket up to my elbow so my chubby arms could reach through the hole of the > fence. I could barely touch it. > Disregarding the warnings from my mom, who was apparently nervous the fence > would give way and I would be swallowd by the culvert below and dumped into > the river, I continued my efforts to capture the ball. My fingertips could > just touch the top. Finally, by tapping the top of the ball and with some > luck I was able to capture my treasure. > I stood and looked at the ball. I don't believe I had ever seen a golf ball > before. I examined it, twirling it in my hands, looking in wonder at all the > dimples. It's hard plastic surface felt to me the ball would bounce very > high if dropped on the pavement. I let it drop on the pavement and it shot > back up to me as if launched from a sling shot. I was amazed and happy about > my discovery. Yet, deep down in my gut, where happy and sad lived, I could > feel anxiety build. > My dilemna? > If I continued to play with the ball I now cherished so, there was a chance > it would once again be lost where I found it. Yet, I wanted to bounce it. I > NEEDED to bounce it. I didn't know if I would be able to live if I couldn't > bounce it. Yet, just the thought of losing my new toy saddened me to the > point of desperate fear. > (As I write this, I know it sounds crazy...yet as I remember the fear and > anxiety was so real, I can almost feel it today). > I bounce the ball again. And caught it. Again....and again...each time I > applied a bit more force to my throw to the ground, seeing how high it would > go. Both glee and anxiety grew with each toss. > Finally, I could not help myself. I had to see how high the ball would fly > before coming back down to earth. With all my might, I let the ball go. > As if in slow motion, I watched as the ball hit the asphalt and ascended what > looked like to me to the stars. And I watched in horror as the arc of the > throw, along with the pitch of the ground, was now allowing the ball to sail > back to its original home. > The ball landed in the culvert, bouncing from one broken piece of concrete to > another. > The rage, sadness and pain grew inside of me. I kicked at the fence, > refusing to believe my new toy was gone. As I pulled on the fence, now in a > full blown tantrum, I yelled, screamed trying to call my lost golf ball back > to me. > People walked by, at first concerned there was something seriously wrong, > then continued there walk toward their cars as they discovered there was > nothing seriously wrong. > But to me, there was something serious. At that moment, that golf ball was > THE most important thing in my life. And being that important to me, I felt > (and acted) like I would not be able to live without my ball. > To my relief, my mom got off the phone and came over to me. I just KNEW she > would help me in such a desparate need. > Instead, she pulled at my arm, dragging me away from the fence. > And all I could do is cry. > No one, not even my mom understood how important that one old golf ball was > to me. And there was no way to communicate this to anyone. My ball was lost > forever and I felt as if my life was over. No amount of screaming or crying > would get me back my ball. The pain and sadness was overwhelming as I > reluctantly walked back to the car. > > I don't know how long this sadness lasted. It could have been an hour, a > day, a week...I don't know. > > As I see Sam, sometimes so sad he seems to want to jump out of his skin, that > same feeling comes over me. > I never put it all together before this evening. For some reason, I thought > of that golf ball I so cherished as a child almost 40 years ago, then though > of Sam, sometimes so sad, angry and broken hearted over a lost Blues Clues > crayon, or a t.v. program going off the air...pick a moment. > What I DO think I know tonight, is I KNOW how Sam feels. His frustration, > rage and lack of understanding and inability to communicate his wants/needs > are the same as I had so long ago. > For me, it just wasn't a golf ball. It was a discovery of pleasure and > security, then the loss of it that so saddened me...and him...and the lack of > ability to reason with the loss or communicate to anyone the importance of > that loss.... > > I don't know if this makes any sense to anyone but me. > Jesus, God, this hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. It always saddened me > when Sam melted down when something that seemed so insignificant to me or > Terry would happen...yet, he at times acts like it's the end of the > world....Now I can empathize. > > Ron...who just saw a light go on > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 4, 2001 Report Share Posted November 4, 2001 In a message dated 11/4/2001 12:23:01 PM Eastern Standard Time, nasusxo@... writes: > Ok now I just want to send you a golf ball. That is so sad. > > Oh , I'm over it....the point is, at that young age, I needed that ball more than I needed air to breathe. Now, it sounds silly, but it gives me some perception as to where Sam is coming from when he loses something, or can't have something, that to me is so insignificant, but to him, his world starts crumbling down around him... Ron...who will dig as deep as he needs to to understand Sam Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 4, 2001 Report Share Posted November 4, 2001 Ok now I just want to send you a golf ball. That is so sad. At 09:12 PM 11/3/2001, you wrote: >Ever since Sam has been dx'd I've been wondering how he truly >feels...especially when he is frustrated, crying, angry and all those other >moods he shows. Somewhere inside of me, there is something that tells me if >I know how he feels, I may be able to comfort him better during these times. >Then I remembered the golf ball: > >I was so young, 4 maybe 5 years old. I couldn't have been too much older >than this because my mom was using the pay telephone outside of the Stop & >Shop. She had left my dad when I was 3 and struggled to house, feed and >clothe my sister and I. We lived on the 2nd floor of a 3 story tenement >apartment in Fall River, Mass. which my aunt and uncle owned and she didn't >have a phone. At the time party lines were still in existence but still, >this was too expensive for a woman working in a sewing mill making maybe 75 >or 80 dollars a week. Though she could use my aunt's phone, I think she >chose to use a pay phone for privacy. >The phone she was using was at the outside corner of the market. Just beyond >the market was a chain link fence that protected the public from a concrete >culvert that jutted out from the parking lot and continued downward to the >Quechachan River where it dumped its contents of wastewater. >As she talked on the phone, my eyes explored the culvert that dropped perhaps >7 or 8 feet below me. On the other side of the fence, worned by repeated >climbing, I noticed a golf ball. I tried to reach for it, hoisting my >jacket up to my elbow so my chubby arms could reach through the hole of the >fence. I could barely touch it. >Disregarding the warnings from my mom, who was apparently nervous the fence >would give way and I would be swallowd by the culvert below and dumped into >the river, I continued my efforts to capture the ball. My fingertips could >just touch the top. Finally, by tapping the top of the ball and with some >luck I was able to capture my treasure. >I stood and looked at the ball. I don't believe I had ever seen a golf ball >before. I examined it, twirling it in my hands, looking in wonder at all the >dimples. It's hard plastic surface felt to me the ball would bounce very >high if dropped on the pavement. I let it drop on the pavement and it shot >back up to me as if launched from a sling shot. I was amazed and happy about >my discovery. Yet, deep down in my gut, where happy and sad lived, I could >feel anxiety build. >My dilemna? >If I continued to play with the ball I now cherished so, there was a chance >it would once again be lost where I found it. Yet, I wanted to bounce it. I >NEEDED to bounce it. I didn't know if I would be able to live if I couldn't >bounce it. Yet, just the thought of losing my new toy saddened me to the >point of desperate fear. >(As I write this, I know it sounds crazy...yet as I remember the fear and >anxiety was so real, I can almost feel it today). >I bounce the ball again. And caught it. Again....and again...each time I >applied a bit more force to my throw to the ground, seeing how high it would >go. Both glee and anxiety grew with each toss. >Finally, I could not help myself. I had to see how high the ball would fly >before coming back down to earth. With all my might, I let the ball go. >As if in slow motion, I watched as the ball hit the asphalt and ascended what >looked like to me to the stars. And I watched in horror as the arc of the >throw, along with the pitch of the ground, was now allowing the ball to sail >back to its original home. >The ball landed in the culvert, bouncing from one broken piece of concrete to >another. >The rage, sadness and pain grew inside of me. I kicked at the fence, >refusing to believe my new toy was gone. As I pulled on the fence, now in a >full blown tantrum, I yelled, screamed trying to call my lost golf ball back >to me. >People walked by, at first concerned there was something seriously wrong, >then continued there walk toward their cars as they discovered there was >nothing seriously wrong. >But to me, there was something serious. At that moment, that golf ball was >THE most important thing in my life. And being that important to me, I felt >(and acted) like I would not be able to live without my ball. >To my relief, my mom got off the phone and came over to me. I just KNEW she >would help me in such a desparate need. >Instead, she pulled at my arm, dragging me away from the fence. >And all I could do is cry. >No one, not even my mom understood how important that one old golf ball was >to me. And there was no way to communicate this to anyone. My ball was lost >forever and I felt as if my life was over. No amount of screaming or crying >would get me back my ball. The pain and sadness was overwhelming as I >reluctantly walked back to the car. > >I don't know how long this sadness lasted. It could have been an hour, a >day, a week...I don't know. > >As I see Sam, sometimes so sad he seems to want to jump out of his skin, that >same feeling comes over me. >I never put it all together before this evening. For some reason, I thought >of that golf ball I so cherished as a child almost 40 years ago, then though >of Sam, sometimes so sad, angry and broken hearted over a lost Blues Clues >crayon, or a t.v. program going off the air...pick a moment. >What I DO think I know tonight, is I KNOW how Sam feels. His frustration, >rage and lack of understanding and inability to communicate his wants/needs >are the same as I had so long ago. >For me, it just wasn't a golf ball. It was a discovery of pleasure and >security, then the loss of it that so saddened me...and him...and the lack of >ability to reason with the loss or communicate to anyone the importance of >that loss.... > >I don't know if this makes any sense to anyone but me. >Jesus, God, this hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. It always saddened me >when Sam melted down when something that seemed so insignificant to me or >Terry would happen...yet, he at times acts like it's the end of the >world....Now I can empathize. > >Ron...who just saw a light go on > > > Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 4, 2001 Report Share Posted November 4, 2001 I feel much the same way... (inAus) Subject: Re: The golf ball Ron: I would like to answer back when I stop crying. , 40, Columbus, OH Bipolar, Borderline Personality Disorder, and???? Mom to: , 15, probably Bipolar Annie, 12, so far so good! JD, 8, Autism, severe ADHD, maybe bipolar, AND my reason for getting out of bed each day!!! Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 4, 2001 Report Share Posted November 4, 2001 I thought > of that golf ball I so cherished as a child almost 40 years ago, then though > of Sam, sometimes so sad, angry and broken hearted over a lost Blues Clues > crayon, or a t.v. program going off the air...pick a moment. > What I DO think I know tonight, is I KNOW how Sam feels. His frustration, > rage and lack of understanding and inability to communicate his wants/needs > are the same as I had so long ago. Ron, I am nearly in tears. I think the full impact of 's potential diagnosis, and the glimpse into it you just gave, both helped and strengthened me for what I think I will hear on Tuesday. I know so much about Autism, and tell myself that it won't be a big deal, it will be a relief, to get the dx, yet it scare the daylights outa me, and at the same time fills me with rage. Why did this have to happen to my little boy? He's such a sweetie, and it's not fair....At least I know that I have you all to come to and cry to, cuz you are the only ones that understand. Thank you for sharing such an intimate moment in your life, and for sharing the amazing epiphany and revelation that comes with it. Bless you, Terry, and little Sam too. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 5, 2001 Report Share Posted November 5, 2001 Ron, If only we could all access that feeling/understanding when our kids are in the midst of a tantrum! Sam is very lucky! Sue ---------------------------------------------------- Sign Up for NetZero Platinum Today Only $9.95 per month! http://my.netzero.net/s/signup?r=platinum & refcd=PT97 Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 5, 2001 Report Share Posted November 5, 2001 Ron , This makes TOTAL sense! And Thank Goodness that you're mind is open enough to see the light when the switch has been flipped! Great, great story.... Penny :-) Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 5, 2001 Report Share Posted November 5, 2001 In a message dated 11/3/2001 11:14:08 PM Central Standard Time, Bosocks1@... writes: > I don't know if this makes any sense to anyone but me. > Jesus, God, this hit me like a ton of bricks tonight. It always saddened > me > when Sam melted down when something that seemed so insignificant to me or > Terry would happen...yet, he at times acts like it's the end of the > world....Now I can empathize. > > Makes perfect sense Ron. Their little worlds are so small & everything is of the utmost importance to them. As we get older we learn to shut ourselves off from strong emotions. So what may not be important to us may be very meaningful to them & I try to remind myself that our kids are not emotionally stunted like most adults & their feelings are very valid. Thank you for reminding me what it feels like to be a kid. By the way, did you ever think about writing professionally? You should, really. Tracey Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Guest guest Posted November 6, 2001 Report Share Posted November 6, 2001 In a message dated 11/6/2001 1:26:36 AM Eastern Standard Time, Taybrynn@... writes: > By the way, did you ever think about writing professionally? You should, > really. > > Tracey > > > Thank you for the compliment... A long time ago...a writing instructor told me not to worry about making a living at writing...she said, " writer's write. " Very few have the priveledge of making a living at it. With that said, I'd love to make a living at it...but to me, that's like knowing how to play the guitar and wanting to be a rock star.... Perhaps some day....maybe some day somone will look at my journals and publish them...who knows. thanks again Ron Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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