My Healing Projects

Happy spring, Readers! And not a moment too soon. :)

I thought I would give you a family update and then hint at some plans I am gestating -- either brilliant or nutso plans, TBD -- to guide me toward greater wellness.

As advertised, here is the update: Life is better. I am not continually struggling against the death-grip of anxiety, trauma, exhaustion, illness, and fear. I say "not continually" because life throws crap at you now and then. Of course. But I (along with Ben, and Lars, and Saskia) have discovered some of those quiet interludes in which healing can begin.

We have figured out what we need to recover, and where we can get it.

For Ben, it is a school in the country. Horses. Sheep. Chickens. Sports of every stripe. Community. Friends. Space from the people who love him most, fought like hell for him, and found (somehow) the strength and wisdom to understand that sometimes love and fight are simply not enough.

You would not believe him if you saw him right now -- even if you only know him from this blog. I miss him like crazy, and I am so proud of him I cry when I tell people about him, or talk to his teacher or house parents. I cry when I see him laugh -- YES! He does that now! -- and when he opens his arms wide to me and says, "Mom, can I hug you? I love you so much."

(I am crying right this very minute, in spite of the fact that at my feet lies the pinnacle of fluffy cuteness, with an exposed belly and an inviting look on his face. The Fluff Therapist in IN.)

For Saskia it is a private arts school where she can devote herself to her singing as well as academics, where there are others as devoted to their arts as she is to hers. And (I hope) sufficient time spent on the butterscotch couch with her old lady, watching Bad TV.

For Lars, it is the becalming of his own, previously unacknowledged anxiety, and a desperately needed respite from the trauma and illness that was grinding the four of us into dust.

For me? Oh, where to begin... Well, I am learning to take care of myself. To pace myself every single day so that my chronic pain and fatigue do not lurch into overdrive. I am learning that it's OK to rest, to NOT be a doer every moment of the day. To not be the first person in the room with a book contract or a kick-ass blog, or a wide fan base. (Fan base???)

I am trying to kick the Mombot out of this house. Out of me. And believe it or not, I am seeing some success.

All that learning and Mombot ass-kicking I'm doing suggests something very, very important: that the chaos, the maelstrom, the shit-storm that had occupied my brain 24/7 for the past 12 years, has finally moved on. Not 100% -- I am WAY too anxious and restless for that. But one of the perks of not trying to figure out, EVERY WAKING MOMENT, how you will keep people alive and not let important things slip through the cracks and remember the names and dosages of a thousand-and-one psych meds, and find a way to do your paid work right so you won't lose the job you desperately want to leave but can't -- one of the perks of that is that you can focus on other stuff, like getting healthy.

So that's what I'm doing -- just like my darling boy does in his school and his home away from home.

And that leads me to my healing projects. I'm only offering a hint right now.

One of them looks like this:

And the other? Kind of like this:

Stay tuned for more on the healing projects...as they grow clearer to me I will share the details of them with you.

And now, Readers, I am so exhausted from writing this post I will have to take a little siesta on the butterscotch couch.

Good night. ;)

Benjy Update. And Me Update.

He has been at his new school for almost two weeks. Most evenings we talk. If we do not it's usually because he's busy and he's OK. I am beginning to learn the art of walking past his empty room and not catching my breath.

All these gasps, as if he just disappeared from where I was expecting him to be.

This school is a beautiful place. The staff there are beyond belief. Two cats named Clyde and Cleo live at the farm on the premises. Not to mention horses, sheep, chickens, and a little bunny with a sad laboratory history who has found his safe, forever home.

Yesterday, Benjy got to feed and water the chickens. For some reason that lies completely beyond my imaginative ken, he really likes chickens.

Yesterday there was no visit to the sheep, but that was OK. It is very likely there was a horse-kiss or two, though. Benjy is learning the pleasure of horse-kisses, which are one of the greatest things a person can experience in this world. This may be true of the next world too, if one exists. In case one does, I sincerely hope there are horses there.

The school part of school is fine at this beautiful place. Those are more or less Benjy's words. I do not believe I have heard the words "school" and "fine" is succession in quite some time. It helps that there are two bunnies in his classroom (well, one in, one just outside, because, as I have mentioned before, if the two bunnies consorted with each other there would soon be six or eight or ten of them, which might be a distraction). Bunny-time is a given. I would imagine holding a bunny to your heart when your heart hurts is akin to holding a cat there (but without the humming motor). A glorious comfort.

We will see Ben in a little more than two weeks. He is marking the days off on the Lolcats calendar I sent him. It took a lot of looking to find a 2013 Lolcats calendar, let me tell you, and when I did it was 75% off.

Double score!
I am also counting the days. We all are. And in the meantime I am focusing on the rest of us -- and most importantly, on me. That is a novelty. But man, do I need it.

You thought I was sane, didn't you? It turns out I am most definitely not. My logic is intact, don't get me wrong. I live in the same world you do, more or less (no people or places only I can see). But suddenly there are no daily fires to put out. There is beginning to be regularity in my life. I can make and keep appointments. I am not living with the constant fear of crisis.

And I have no idea what to do with myself. With the quietude. With my own grief, my sense of loss. This new expansiveness scares me. Literally.

I have to relearn how to be a "normal" adult, living a "normal" life. (I know, there's no such thing. But there may be degrees of normalcy. Of "proper adjustment." I have forgotten all about that zone, and how you live in it.)

Now that I'm not fueled by fear and adrenaline (hey, that adrenaline is some major stuff) I can look into what else is inside me. What I see in there is a whole lot of broken stuff.

So now comes the fixing. I have good people on my side, too many to list here with hands not so co-operative this morning. I know will get there.

I wonder if a bunny would help?