It’s ok to need help……

There are many times in life where we are expected to be strong and do things on our own.  We are taught that needing help is a sign of weakness.  We’re told that we need to be independent and hold our heads high.  But what about when things get too hard? Are we supposed to suck it up and deal with it on our own or reach out for help?  Because it seems like the ones who reach out for help get labeled as weak or crazy.  I know this for a fact because I have personally experienced it.  So what happens when the person with a tough, take no crap personality finally has too much to deal with and try to tackle it on their own?  They break…….I broke……..And continue to put all the pieces back together.

images (3)People like me tend to be thought of as tough because of my big mouth and willingness to tell people what I think.  But being bold and blunt is a far cry from being made of steel.  If you are like me and have allowed people to mistake your bold personality for unwavering strength, then this blog will show you that you’re not alone.  Not only are you not alone, you may be at the tipping point and need a push in the right direction as to not end up in some of the situations I have been in.  There are so many things that have happened that I have hidden from people up until they read this very blog.  I am a strong believer in sharing your story, no matter how hard or embarrassing it might be.  Because you never know who might really NEED to read your words to be able to help themselves. With that in mind………read on and I will tell you a little about my story.

As I’m writing this, I find myself stopping every couple of minutes and nervously wringing my hands together.  Completely unsure of how much I actually want to reveal in such a public way.  Anyone who knows me well, knows that I have had some personal struggles in the past couple years.  But not everyone knows exactly how bad things got.  Or why they got so bad.  A lot of things led up to my “breakdown”.  Looking back, I can see that my mental health was an issue all the way back into my teen years, but I had learned a coping method and ignored the real problems.  I remember being in junior high and high school and having such a bad temper that I didn’t know how to control my anger at all.  I went from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds.  This was always my personality so I just chocked it up to having my dads temper.  There were random physical altercations throughout high school, college, and my mid twenties.  I always seemed to get upset and the next thing I knew, I had been in a fight and didn’t even remember it.  Blacking out from anger had become normal to me and, once again, I just thought I had a bad temper due to heredity.  Turns out I was wrong.

I began dating the man who later became the father of my child, when I was 20 years old.  I pretty much thought he hung the moon and that I was so lucky to be with him that I could get past all the cheating and emotional abuse.  I had done such an amazing job of convincing myself of this lie, that I spent nearly seven years with him.  I can remember times of catching him in lies, busting him for cheating, smiling in front of our friends when he would talk down to me so they didn’t see my pain.  I was so insecure that he had pretty much convinced me that nobody else would want me.  I am 5’8″ and was 125 lbs for a period of time that we were together, and he had me convinced, even then, that I needed to lose weight.  I was told that he wouldn’t talk about other girls if I just looked like the girls at his gym.  I was doing modeling as a hobby during that time and could be on the runway during a fashion show feeling so confident, but one word from him and I felt like I was damaged.

I had my son when I was 26 years old and was so insanely in love with my gorgeous child, that I finally had the strength to see my relationship for what it was.  And it was an abusive mess.  Abuse doesn’t always have to be physical.  Being constantly cheated on and talked down to is abuse.  Having an argument and sitting on a bare mattress because my boyfriend took every sheet, blanket, pillow, and cable cord in the house and left, is abuse.  Being locked out of my own apartment.  Being told that I need to get over the fact that the stripper that lived across the hall had been sleeping with him.  Or having to drive myself to the hospital with contractions because he was going out to eat with his friends and didn’t believe my early contractions were an issue.  Coming back to my apartment after being in my hometown for my dads funeral when I was five months pregnant to find an eviction notice due to all the rent money being blown on partying while I was away.  All of those things are abuse.  Finally, now that I had my son, I could see it for what it was and left.  Six weeks in to being a mom and I had to transition into being a single mom.

I moved back to my hometown when I left my son’s father.  I had family there and decided that is where I needed to be.  I was fine being a single mom.  I loved having so much time to spend by myself with my little guy.  I was such a good mom.  I was right on top of everything and was super protective.  I listened to the doctors and did everything they recommended, which included vaccinating my child.  Little did I know that I was injuring my child with every shot.  He became sicker and sicker after every round of vaccines.  Non stop upper respiratory infections, ear infections, colic, acid reflux, etc.  Even though he was sick a lot, he was such a happy baby.  Started talking at 7 months and was hitting every milestone ahead of target.  Then, disaster.  When he was 15 1/2 months old, I took him into his pediatrician for his last round of toddler vaccines.  This round of shots was different.  His scream was so intense and blood curdling.  About 20 minutes after getting his shots, he slumped over into a seizure in the back seat of my car.  I didn’t even realize at the time that it was a seizure.  Over the next few weeks, without knowing it, I was saying goodbye to the kid I had been raising thus far.  He regressed into severe, low-functioning autism within 2-3 weeks of that set of shots.  He lost all his words, wouldn’t look at us, wouldn’t respond to his name, stopped playing with toys appropriately, self harming, etc.  My world was completely torn apart.

About a year into dealing with my son’s autism, I decided to make a permanent decision to not allow myself to have any more children.  Even if I wanted more kids, and I did, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone involved to bring a child into our lives.  So, instead of having a tubal ligation, I opted for a complete hysterectomy.  I knew that ovarian cancer ran in my family, so I figured it was safer to just go ahead and get it over with.  At 29 years old, I was being wheeled into the operating room with tears streaming down my face.  I cried all the way until I was sedated.  The next thing I knew I was waking up in a lot of pain and beginning my long journey of surgical menopause.

A couple months after my surgery, I was hit with a curveball.  My son was engaging in more than his normal amount of head butting.  I became concerned and took him to the children’s hospital in our area.  They admitted him to keep him from hurting himself and I began demanding answers.  I told them I wanted an MRI done of his brain because my niece had Chiari Malformation (brain malformation causing the cerebellum to protrude through an opening in the back of the skull which causes pressure on the spinal column) and I wanted to be sure he didn’t have it as well.  The doctors said no and I stood strong and said do the test or have me escorted out by security.  Surprisingly, I didn’t go to jail.  LOL.  They did the test and to my horror, I was right.  My son had Chiari Malformation and required surgery to fix it.  A month later, I was handing my 2 1/2 year old son over to the neurosurgeon.  The next few days were spent in the hospital helping my son recover from brain surgery.  Thank God for my mom or I would have been there alone.

Over the next couple years, we had several things happen.  A couple stays in the child psychiatric hospital for aggression, got married, got divorced, moved a couple times.  Things just never seemed to calm down.  I kept pushing forward and getting more and more tired with every day that passed.  I kept trying to tell people that I felt like I was going to break, but I felt like no one really heard me.  I didn’t even realize at that time, that I was about to have a complete breakdown.  But, I came face to face with the reality of my breaking point in May of 2014.  What followed next seemed like a bad dream that I couldn’t wake from.

May 24, 2014, I called my mom to tell her I needed someone to watch my son.  I was so stressed out that I needed a break.  I can’t remember the reason, but my mom was unable to watch him for me.  I had already exhausted every other option for help and the respite worker that helped me 14 hours a week was off that day.  I sat there with tears pouring while my son continued to head butt me and scream.  All of the sudden, my logical thinking turned off like a light switch and I became another person.  I became so calm and I could see my actions but was not in control of them.  I called my son’s respite worker and asked if she could stop by my house for a minute on her way through town.  I sat at my kitchen table with my son on my lap as I wrote out two letters.  One to my son and one to my mom.  The letters explained how sorry I was for leaving them and that I wanted my son to know that I loved him very much and was so sorry that I wasn’t able to be strong for him.  The respite worker showed up, I pretended to need to use the restroom, stood at the sink at choked down around 40 nerve pills, and began to cry.

suicide preventionLaying in my hospital room in the ICU that night, fresh from the charcoal drinking fun of the ER, I felt numb.  I couldn’t wrap my head around anything that had happened.  How did I get to this point?  I kept thinking about the ambulance ride to the ER.  I remember laying there while the EMT called out my vitals as my blood pressure continued to drop.  The lower the number got, the more calm I became.  It’s almost over, it’s almost over.  That’s all that I could think.  In my warped, exhausted mind, I honestly thought that I was doing my son and the rest of my family a favor.  I spent the next 4 days in a psychiatric hospital where I ended up signing papers to turn over temporary custody of my son to my brother and his wife.  I had no clue that things were about to go from really bad to worse.

The doctor decided to release me and send me home, despite the fact that I kept saying I wasn’t ready.  My mom and her boyfriend picked me up and went home with me.  I cried for a while in my sons empty room and then decided to go to the pharmacy to get the plethora of medication the doctor had prescribed.  Well, when I went to my car to find it had been broken into while I was in the hospital, my severe nervous breakdown officially happened.  I became completely out of control.  I punched dents in the side of my car, ran in my apartment and attempted to slit my wrist while my moms boyfriend wrestled the knife away from me.  I sat at the table with him trying to hold me still and beat my head so hard against the table that I required a catscan that night.  I was clawing my face, ripping my hair out, screaming.  I could see myself doing all this as if I was watching a scary movie that had no stop option.  I could see how crazy I was being but had no control at that point.  Then…..just as quick as it started, it stopped.  I became completely calm.  Another ambulance ride to the ER for a catscan and x-rays of my hands since I had beaten them so badly, then straight back to the psychiatric hospital for another several days.

So, it turns out, I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder, PTSD, Bipolar, severe anxiety, depression, and panic attacks. I spent the next year working to get myself straightened out and get my son back.  It was the worst year of my life.  I made so many bad decisions right after getting out of the psychiatric hospital.  One of which included trying cocaine for the first time and subsequently losing a really good job because it’s all I wanted to do for the couple weeks that I was doing it.  I soon realized that drugs are not the answer.  I couldn’t rely on that to fix my problems. I needed to focus on my health and getting my son home.  So, I worked hard learning coping techniques, going to therapy, getting a job, and spending as much time as I could with my son.  After a year of dealing with the court system, I was awarded full, legal custody of my son again.  It was the best thing that has happened to me.  I couldn’t be happier to have my son back home with me.  It’s a lesson I had to learn the hard way.  I was very lucky to have family that loved my son enough to care for him for a whole year.

you are not aloneThrough everything that I have gone through, I have found one constant amongst all the changes.  That is God.  I have recently made the choice to fix my relationship with God and have that peace in my heart again that I know I can only find in Him.  I guess that is the conclusion of all of this.  Things get hard.  Things become unbearable sometimes.  When they do, it’s ok to need help!  Whether you believe like I do that God is that help, or if you believe more in energies, or what have you; turn to SOMETHING POSITIVE.  Allow yourself to have faith in SOMETHING.  I have found that it’s A LOT easier to have faith in the people in your life if you have faith in general.  Don’t allow yourself to get dragged down into the depths of hopelessness and fear, because trust me, it will destroy you.  Find something to believe in, and don’t be afraid to ask for help.  Demand it if need be.  I am so thankful that I can sit here next to my sleeping child and have peace in my heart knowing God is with me through everything.  I hope that if you are going through a hard time and have taken the time to read my incredibly long blog, that you can find peace in knowing you are not alone.  There are people who really “get” what you’re going through.  Reach out to them and remember that IT’S OK TO NEED HELP!

God Bless!!






1011777_10100846518992591_7636415134309355048_n I’ve never been one to remember dates that signify sad or upsetting times.  I don’t hold on to death dates, breakup dates, etc.  But there is one date that stays with me and I remember every year without fail.  April 12th.  Specifically, April 12, 2011. That’s the day that everything officially changed for my entire family.  No matter how large or small of an impact it had on extended family, it’s certain that there was an impact.  Even my close friends were affected.  What happened on this date that was so life changing?  How could one event have so much of an effect on everyone?  Well, it’s more of what was made official that day.  Because what caused the major shift in our lives actually started the moment I allowed a medical professional to put a needle in my child.

I typically have a good memory, but my memory of April 12, 2011 literally seems like it was five minutes ago instead of five years ago.  Tuesday, April 12, 2011 my son, Landyn, had his appointment with Dayton Children’s Developmental Pediatrics.  I had scheduled this appointment a couple months earlier because, after asking my son’s pediatrician for help and getting nowhere, I had to do research myself to find out what was happening to my son.  Every change I had seen in my son for over 6 months was all found online.  When I had done months of research and completed an online questionnaire called the MCHAT (Modified Checklist for Autism in Toddlers), I knew what my son had but needed to hear it from a specialist before I could accept it.  I thought I was prepared for that appointment, but I was anything but.

autism is medical

Being a single mom, I had my mom go with me to most of my son’s appointments.  This one was no different.  I knew I couldn’t face this one on my own.  So, that morning, I remember having the worst anxiety I had experienced at that point in my life.  Little did I know the ridiculous anxiety was just beginning.  I got my 21 month old little boy ready for his appointment and off we went.  It was a pretty quiet ride over other than talk of what else could possibly be going on and how I hoped I was wrong.  Once we were at the appointment, we got checked in and sat in the waiting room.  I looked around at a couple of the kids that were in the room and noticed similarities right away.  I didn’t get to pay that much attention though because I had to constantly be holding on to my son due to his dangerous behaviors that had become the norm for us.  “Landyn”, I heard a nurse call out.  Luckily they didn’t keep us waiting long.  It actually surprised me how quickly we were called back.  We only waited about 10 minutes for the doctor to come in and then it was down to business.  12806014_10100895810457101_4618450814111467504_n

In walks a tiny little woman with a soft, friendly voice.  She was extremely nice and began asking about Landyn and what my concerns were.  As I talked with her, she observed Landyn and would call his name randomly.  She attempted to make eye contact with him but the attempt failed.  He was in his own little world, which is how he had become all the time.  I remember her asking what my biggest concern with him was.  I told her that I was afraid he was autistic.  She paused and observed Landyn a bit longer.  The next words that came out of her mouth felt like daggers shooting straight in my heart.  “Landyn is autistic.” It was said with compassion and in her soft tone but what I heard in my head was a band of enemies screaming it at me.  I’m sure all the color drained from my face at that point.  I lost all my composure that I had worked hard to maintain, and I began to cry.

I had just gotten the answer to the question I had been asking for several months.  A question that I knew the answer to, but wasn’t completely prepared to hear it spoken out loud by a professional.  “Landyn is autistic.”  God, how that kept playing in my head like a broken record.  What did this mean?  How bad WAS it?  Is it severe?  Is it mild?  What about treatable?  Curable?  Will he learn to talk again?  But he was normal and then lost everything?  That one question I had for all those months suddenly turned into a battery of unanswerable ones.  I could tell the doctor had become accustomed to this line of questioning but I could still see the tears in her kind eyes as she obviously hated having to deliver that type of news.  She answered all the questions that she could.  She told me that her assessment of him is that he fit the diagnosis of severe, low-functioning autism and hyperkinesis.   Hyperkinesis is basically a different way of saying ADHD when a child is too young to be officially diagnosed as such.  She explained that there was no cure for autism but there were things we could do to treat the symptoms.  She told me about different medications and therapies.  My head was spinning.  Apparently, she noticed and suggested that we come back in a week to discuss more options.  I was all for that idea since I could barely process any more information at that point.  1909959_10100846518768041_2036783123135747404_n

We gathered our things, which included a packet she had given us called, “The First 100 Days:  What to do after an autism diagnosis”.  We left the office after making a return appointment and began down the hall.  Before we even made it to the elevators, I made a mad dash for the restroom for a solid couple minutes of dry heaving.  “Pull yourself together Laura!”, I kept repeating that to myself hoping it would work.  It didn’t.  I got a call from my son’s dad as we were walking to the car. “How’s my boy?” is the first thing he said, which is what he said every time he called.  The same, “I really don’t care but I’ll ask so you don’t report my job to child support” tone that I heard in every call from him.  I asked him if he even remembered that Landyn had an appointment with the developmental specialist that day.  Of course, he didn’t.  He asked what they said and I told him.  I ended up hanging up after telling him because I co
uldn’t take his nonchalant demeanor.  I kept thinking back to a month prior to that when we had gone down to visit Landyn’s cousin for her birthday.  She was five months older than him and had began talking around the same time as Landyn, but hadn’t lost her milestones like he did.  Her mom and I were friends and had our children by two brothers.  She was a lot different than me when it came to parenting.  She was a lot more open to learning about vaccine safety and tried to talk to me about it before Landyn was born, but I didn’t listen.  Looking back, I would give anything to change that decision.  I knew we could all tell that there was a difference in Landyn and his cousin, but my friend and I were respectful enough to not compare our children.  My son’s uncle, however, was not as respectful.  I remember threatening to leave because he and I got into an argument.  He had made a joke about ho
w my son was five months younger than his daughter and “couldn’t even talk”.  The fact that Landyn’s dad didn’t defend his son angered me just as much as the 12932963_10100920055395051_5734024245396438087_njoke itself.

Things over the next five years, which brings us to now, continued to be a struggle.  Medication, therapies, hospital stays, and much more have filled our past five years.  What no one tells you in the beginning of dealing with autism is that it is a roller coaster.  There will be progress then regression then more progress.  Something else they don’t tell you is that no matter how many people tell you it’s not your fault, it never gets any easier to forgive yourself.  In my son’s case, I know that vaccines led to his autism, and I will never be able to completely forgive myself for not taking the advice given by a loved one
before Landyn was born.  The ultimate blame lies with the pharmaceutical industry, but that is a fight that thousands of parents are still trying to win.  It will happen eventually and hopefully sooner than later.  But, not doing my research and putting all my trust in a doctor is the blame that falls on me.  No matter the cause, the result of the events of April 12, 2011 remain the same.  My son, was diagnosed with autism.  A diagnosis that I had feared for months.  So, as I do every year on this date, I am going to spend time with my son and reflect on the things that have happened in our lives and where we go from here.  A normal day to everyone else, a day of reflection for us.


Written By:  Laura Adams


Droppin Knowledge ♣ St. Paddy’s Style

First off, Happy St. Patrick’s Day to everyone:-) In true “me” fashion, I became curious about the real story behind St. Patrick’s Day.  What I ended up finding was not what I had expected at all.  In the modern day of Google, it’s easy to find information. However, you tend to stumble upon conflicting information.  So, in order to give you all the most accurate information, I researched several reliable sources and came up with the best answers I could find.


St. Patrick

The first thing I looked up was “Who” St. Patrick really was.  St. Patrick was not the real name of the Patron Saint.  He was born Maewyn Succat.  He became known as St. Patrick after his death on March 17, 460 AD in Saul, Downpatrick Ireland.  That is where the name Patrick came in, his place of death.  I was really surprised to find that St. Patrick wasn’t actually Irish.  He was born around around 390 AD in Roman Britain.  His parents were of middle class and St. Patrick was with them in Roman Britain until about the age of 16.  At that time, he was captured by Irish raiders and taken to Ireland where he was sold as a slave to an Irish King.  So, theSaint that we all associate solely with Irish culture, was actually English.  Who knew, lol.  But it was his acts later in life that made him worth celebrating.

Even more surprising to me was that even though Patrick was raised with Christian parents, he didn’t believe in God.  That is where the stories of a Pagan religion come from.  As a matter of fact, there are some that say we get our modern day association of green, shamrocks, and Leprechauns from his Pagan and Celtic experiences.  Shamrocks, which have three leaves, are said to be the plant the represents the Pagan Holy Trinity. But if you look at Christian beliefs, it is said that while bringing the news of God to the Irish, St. Patrick picked up a Shamrock that is ONLY found in Ireland and pointed out the three leaves symbolizing the Christian Holy Trinity.   Celtic belief in fairies and magic is what led to the mention of Leprechauns.  Leprechaun, which translated basically just means small fellow, was a magical being that was believed to spend their time making shoes and hiding their gold in pots.  The image that we have of Leprechauns today, isfree_leprechaun_shutterstock_421171571 not at all what was told to exist by the Celtic people.



Another myth that I found to be false is the belief that St. Patrick rid Ireland of snakes.  According to myth, St. Patrick banished snakes from Ireland by chasing them into the sea after attacking him during his 40 day fast.  The real story behind the absence of snakes is that Ireland was surrounded by glaciers and too cold for snakes to survive.  And when the glaciers melted, Ireland was surrounded by water making it impossible for snakes to slither over.  History experts say that the myth probably came into play as a way of representing St. Patrick trying to rid Ireland of the Pagan religion. The Celts and the Druids were represented with a snake symbol.  They were the religions that occupied Ireland far before Christianity was introduced.   I have to say, I honestly had no clue that Ireland didn’t have snakes.  More interesting is HOW could they still not have snakes?  You know people have taken snakes into the country.  I’ll save that for a later day of research.  LOL.



So, back to St. Patrick.  After spending many years working as a shepherd for his slave owner, and finding God while praying in desperation, he claimed that God spoke to him and told him to flee to the sea where a ship awaited that would take him back to England.  It’s said that he traveled 200 miles to reach that ship.  Once he was back in England, that is where he studied under a Priest and gained his faith and knowledge of Christianity.  So, after spending 6 years in slavery, and spending time learning his religion in Roman Britain, he returned to Ireland to spread the word of Christianity.  He spent 29 years ministering, in which time he baptized 120,000 Irishmen and started 300 churches.  So you can see why he is considered a Saint to the Irish.  He brought peace and God to a country that was ruled by Druids and full of evil.

Ok, lets recap.  St. Patrick’s real name was Maewyn Succat according to many scholars. He was named St. Patrick after his death in Saul, Downpatrick Ireland. Although, some say he was named Patritius, which later became Patrick by Pope Celistine.  I guess either could be true.  We learned that he did not drive snakes out of Ireland. Snakes are naturally not there due to the Ice Age.  Leprechauns are not little men in green with big hats.  They were a magical creature that the Celts believed existed.  St. Patrick was NOT Irish, but was instead English.  He spent a large portion of his life in Roman Britain.  He was sold into slavery in Ireland and later came back as a missionary.

Now that we all know who St. Patrick really was and where the myths came from, it begs to question where some of our traditions come from.  Some are obvious and hold true to hisgreen-beertory.  But others kind of baffle me.  Why do we celebrate this Saint of Christianity by wearing green (if not you’ll get pinched as a way to shame you for not celebrating), drinking green beer and partying, or dressing up as a mythical creature that was part of a belief that sat opposite Christianity. I admit I have partied and celebrate
d that way many times.  But, I will not do so in the future.  I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that if St. Patrick was here today, he would want us to celebrate the introduction of God’s way into a country that desperately needed it.  He would want us to do good things.  After all, he IS a Christian Saint.

Everyone is entitled to celebrate how they choose.  I am not condemning anyone for that choice.  I am no Saint myself (pun intended).  But with the things I have learned researching St. Patrick, I can’t help but think that we, as a society have turned a religious holiday into a fairy tale  laden, drunken party day.  I wonder if the first celebration of St. Patrick, March 17, 1762 on the anniversary of his death, was celebrated the way we do today.  Hmmmm……food for thought on this 21st century version of the Day of Feast in honor of Ireland’s Patron Saint.

♣Written by:  Laura Adams♣


I’m saying! ;-)

I’m always finding myself wondering about different phrases or sayings I hear.  “Where did it start?” “Does it meai'm just sayinn what we think it does?” “Is there a rich history behind it?” I’ve found that a lot of the things I’m curious about have a very interesting history.  I want to start breaking some of today’s popular phrases down and relaying my findings to all of you.  If nothing else, it’s just an interesting read.

So, the first phrase that I ever researched is what got me interested in others.  It was the phrase “Cut to the chase”.  That’s one that a lot of people probably know.  I mean, how often do you hear someone rush along a conversation with “cut to the chase!”?  Well, for those of you that don’t know, this phrase stems from the movie industry.  What do you think of when you decide to watch an action movie for instance?  Do you think, “I can’t wait to see the conversations these characters have!”?  Hmmmm….Probably not.  You are most likely thinking, “I want to see the ACTION!”   So, obviously, cutting to the chase scene would be the exciting part.  Hence the phrase, “Cut to the CHASE”.

Once I learned about the origin of cutting to the chase, I started to wonder where other things that we say on a daily basis may come from.  Have you ever wondered what in the heck looking a horse in the mouth has to do with getting gifts?  I found this one to be pretty interesting.  A horses gums recede as they age.  Knowing the age of a horse and thereby determining their worth, was done by looking in their mouths.  When horses were given as gifts, it was considered rude to check the horses gums right away.  It was a “gift” and they recipient was looking in it’s mouth.  So if you get a gift, and you immediately evaluate the value or worth of the gift, you are looking the gift horse in the mouth.

How about “close but no cigar”?  Did you know that at one point, carnivals gave out cigars as prizes?  So if you didn’t win, you may have come close, but did not get a cigar.  If you were alive in the 17th century and frequented the bars, you would be familiar with the meaning of minding your p’s and q’s.  Beer was sold in pints and quarts, and if you had a few too many and got out of hand, the bartender would tell you to mind your p’s and q’s.  Basically, watch your alcohol intake and behavior.

Did you know that at one point in history, your bed would have consisted of a frame with ropes as the support for the mattress?  Think modern day box springs but only in rope form.  The best way to have a good night’s sleep was to make sure the ropes were pulled tight to be a stable hold for the mattress.  So if someone was wishing you a good nights rest, they would want you to sleep on a mattress supported by tight ropes.  Hence, “sleep tight”. Has anyone ever told you to stay on the straight and narrow?  Did you take it to mean you needed to stray from trouble?  You would have been right.  But why is straight and narrow the right way?  It’s actually God’s rules.  So if you are one of my atheist friends, I guess this phrase wouldn’t apply to you, lol.  In Mathew 7:13/14 we are told about the path to Heaven.  We all know that Heaven is the ultimate reward for doing good, so being on the straight and narrow would mean to keep yourself in good standing with God.  The verses say, Mathew 13“Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is broad that leads to destruction, and there are many who enter through it. 14“For the gate is small and the way is narrow that leads to life, and there are few who find it.

I have to say, out of all the phrases I’ve researched, the most interesting to me is the story of “Mad as a Hatter”. The reason is probably more about my interest in the dangers of chemicals on humans rather than general curiosity.  To understand this phrase, we’ll have to travel back to 18th century London.  During that time, hat makers used felt when structuring at hat.  The felt was soaked with a chemical mix containing mercury.  After repeated exposure, day after day, of handling these mercury soaked hats, it began to affect the employees.  The more mercury that seeped through their skin or was inhaled while breathing without masks, the worse they got.  Mercury is a known neurotoxin that can cause aggressiveness, mood swings, and anti-social behavior.  (Sounds oddly familiar to symptoms associated with autism which many of us think mercury played a role in causation).  So as the hatters began displaying these symptoms, they were termed “mad”. As the numbers of “mad” hat makers increased, anyone displaying crazy behavior was considered to be “as mad as a hatter.”

Of course there could be many explanations for all of these phrases, but from all that I’ve researched I find these to be the most consistent and logical.  I guess one could say that it’s all subjective.  The only way to know for fact that these things are accurate would be to have lived through them.  But, since that isn’t an option, I guess you’ll have to take my word for it.  😉


Written by:  Laura Adams


30 Day Push-Fundraiser Challenge

So today as I was thinking about ways to raise money for the event I’ve been working on. The event is on June 11, 2016 from 12 noon till 5 pm . I am so excited because it feels like things just kept falling into place.  We have a venue, we have a ticket page set up, t-shirt’s are being sold, and we have an absolutely STELLAR panel of speaker for this event.  The name of the event is “Educate Before You Vaccinate: Fact vs Fiction”  The event is not at all intended to push people into not vaccinating.  The purpose of the event is to give our community the opportunity to hear the actual science and discoveries as told by the very doctors and scientists who were working on the science and discoveries that are HUGE for us to know.

We decided to set up a fundraising event that will be ongoing.  My thought process with this is, if we keep it going and get our event paid for it doesn’t just benefit our even.  The funding that will still be collecting can provide funds for these events to make their way across the country without having to worry about setting up a new fundraiser.

I really want to make sure that this event is successful and can be a jumping off point for other activists to keep the ball rolling across the country.  We can do it if we work together.

So, here is how this fundraiser is going to work.  It’s going to be done through What we will do is tag 3 friends in a post challenging them to donate $10 to our cause.  Those 3 friends will then tag 3 of their friends challenging them to keep the pattern going. If you can’t donate, then you will have to use our event flyer as your cover photo for 24 hours.  Do you think you can pull off the challenge?  Feel free to do both of course.

Get ready to start tagging your friends!!!

We are doing a 30 day push with this, so lets so lets see how awesome we can do in just 30 days!!!!!!!!!!!

Introducing…… Me

So, since I seem to have a lot to say pretty much all the time, I have decided to start blogging!  I will be blogging about various things from time to time, but my main focus will be on autism, what it’s like to be a single mother of an autistic child, Vaccine topics, borderline personality disorder, bipolar, depression and anxiety, and Chiari Malformation.

I’m hoping to make these blogs as informative and fun as I can.  There’s so much I want to share and I’m excited to get to share it with everyone.  So, I am keeping this one short and sweet and I will start writing tomorrow.  Have a wonderful Day!!!1011777_10100846518992591_7636415134309355048_n