I started this a couple of days ago . . .
Today I made contact with a friend I taught with during the dark time that was . . . teaching in Atlanta! Janie was one of my favorite people there, and I don't know what I would have done without her. I was thinking about her last night and took a gamble that I was FBing the correct person. I was! It was wonderful to hear from her today. It's been 22, gulp, years since I saw her last. So this makes me ponder the gift of Facebook.
I was a reluctant joiner. Lots of kids at the college were getting on it and talking about it, but it seemed like a kid thing, and I was too crazy in my own life to spend time on anything else. What finally forced me to join was my 25th high school reunion -- but not until after the reunion. When I was helping to notify people of the reunion plans, I relied on Classmates, and thought that was pretty cool. It was a difficult reunion to find people for because it was only 2 years after Katrina, and everyone was scattered to the winds (I graduated from Riverdale High School in New Orleans, for those of you who were wondering what my reunion had to do with Katrina.) It was hard to get the word out, and anyone not on Classmates had to hear it by word of mouth. In the end, there were people still in town who never knew about it because that word of mouth hadn't gotten to them. That was a shame.
The reunion fell at a good time in my life, when I really needed it. I was still digging myself out of my divorce, and had stabilized just enough to realize that I no longer had any idea who I was anymore. My identity had been lost in wife, mother, worker. In my marriage, I had been kept distant from my friends without really realizing the extent of the distance. When I began to get MY life back, I wanted my friends back. I had missed them all terribly! I've always been a social person, and the friendships I've made over the years are one the most important things in my life. I rely on the kindness, support, laughter, fun, etc. I was always good about writing (yes, actual letters) to people and visiting whenever I could, but all of that had been lost over the years when I was in Ohio and the "ex" was using his psychological manipulation to control my ability to keep the lines open. So, going to my 25th reunion was a HUGE way to rediscover myself. It truly shocked me as I heard the way people referred to me and described me. It was like they were talking about someone I hadn't seen in a long time! Oh wait, I hadn't seen that person in a long time. I kept having fleeting thoughts along the lines of, "She sounds like a pretty nice person," only to realize I was thinking that about myself. I was relearning the things I liked and valued, what was meaningful to me, what my goals had been in the past, and most importantly, what I still had to offer and give in my life. What an awakening it was!!! Had I not gone to that reunion, rediscovered these friends, and accepted the person they seemed to know, I think I wouldn't have been able to get off of the path I was on, which wasn't my true path.
When I returned home from the reunion, I wanted to stay in touch with everyone, and that's when I gave in to the FB addiction. When I fell, I fell hard. I would come home after a long, hard day at work, get the kids fed and in bed, and somewhere around midnight, I'd hop on FB and feel much less alone reading what others had done with the day and what they had to say, joking about silly stuff, etc. How I needed that company, virtual as it was, it was soooo real to me! I thought it was a great blessing to have the contact, but I didn't realize how much more was going to come with it. I had found high school and middle school friends, and I was happy.
Then one day, a friend called. She was a fellow little sister in my college fraternity (Sigma Alpha Mu aka Sammys), and one of the very few people I had managed to stay in touch with from that group of friends. She was as diligent as I was about contact, otherwise I'm sure I would have lost her too. My ex NEVER would have fit in with my Sammy brothers and sisters!! (Of course that should have been my first sign, right! He also didn't like New Orleans! Ding, ding, ding, ding!) Anyway, she had just discovered her daughter reading a book by the fantastic young adult author, Libba Bray! Libba was one of our pledge sisters! Cool! We had to find her. We did, not through FB though, but when she called to catch up, she mentioned finding one of the Sammy brothers on FB the night before. . . . It had never even occurred to me to look people from other groups of my life up on FB! Why hadn't it???? So I sent him a friend request that night, completely sure he wouldn't even remember who I was. Fortunately he did, and within 24 hours, I had reconnected with nearly 30 people I thought I had completely lost forever!!! That number grew quickly, and huge! I couldn't believe it! I said to one of them that I thought I had lost them all, to which she responded, "We've been here all along,it was you who left. Glad you're back." She was right. Most of these folks I hadn't seen in about 20+years. By this point, the boys and I had already decided to move back to Texas, but that was when we were still planning to move to San Antonio. I couldn't wait to get down to see everyone, and I came as quickly as possible. It helped me realize that I needed to come back to Denton , where I felt at home, and be with people who knew the real ME again. What an amazing comfort!!
Last summer, another piece of my life was put in place when I found my elementary school class, through FB of course, and went to the class of 1976 reunion down in Houston. How anyone from that long ago could possibly remember me after all this time was so strange, but it was consistent with what I had already been discovering about myself. The bottom line was that when all the pieces of my childhood, middle school, high school, and college days were put together, they formed a mosaic of a person I enjoyed rediscovering. I did matter to other people. I was valued. I was worth it. I was ok. I was still in there, and slowly peeling back the layers of defense, hurt, struggle, and fear. I was there, and I was going to be ok because I was now on my way back. I had the pieces of my life repainted, I was back in the classroom where I belonged, I was closer to family and friends, I was in a much better state of mind to raise my boys and set the example of living a full life. It's still a work in progress, but I'm making forward movement pretty regularly.
I guess my point then is that Facebook did save my life in a way. Through it, I found all the people who played a part in various stages of my life. In each person, there was a little piece of me which they had unknowingly preserved, and gave back to me when I resurfaced. Ten or twenty years ago, I don't know how this would have been possible. I now know people I didn't know very well a long time ago, but have grown to dearly love. I know people I've never met, but are a perfect connection for my sense of humor, and I dearly love them. I have connected with friends I only knew for 10 days on a tour of Italy back in 1987, and although we have written each other regularly for all of these years, I have them at my fingertips now. The wonderful woman who used to do my hair in Denton remembered me even. Now think about how many heads she had seen? (Love you Jana!) And I now have Janie, from the Atlanta years. I love putting this puzzle together. I love my life, all of it, the good, the bad, and the ugly. It all makes the picture of me more complete, and that feels good.
In my Sammy days, we had a frat house with a great front porch where we would gather daily, laugh, talk, have a drink, give a hug, sometimes even do homework (nah!), and generally enjoy each other. It was a happy place to be, and I knew that if I was having a bad day, I could go sit on the porch for a while and feel better soon. When my Sammy friends are on FB, we have referred to sitting on the virtual porch. My porch has grown, and now my friends from different groups are making friends with my other friends. (I think you get it.) My virtual porch is big, it can hold lots of people, it offers plenty of love, support, humor, advice, and encouragement, and it's a very happy place to sit with ALL of my friends. :) I thank Facebook for bringing me the preservers of my life so I could have them back again.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
A priceless Ethan moment from 2009
I ran across this when finding the other two posts about moving, and it gave me a happy giggle. I like giggling about Ethan, so I thought I'd share it too. Boys!
When is a rack not a rack?
by Leigh Range on Wednesday, February 11, 2009 at 1:11pm
This is one of those moments that I wanted to remember about my dear, sweet 13 year old son when he is older and complaining about his own children doing stupid things.
Ethan is home sick from school today, and actually wanted to do some science homework on the computer. Unfortunately, he's grounded from everything in life, so I had to break down and tell him where my laptop was hidden.
I told him to go into my closet and look on top of the lower rack on the left. Not too hard, right? For some reason he was struggling with these directions. After several rounds of, "I don't see it!" followed by me saying, "ok, there's a top rack, and a bottom rack. It's on top of the bottom rack." We each kept repeating these responses, and I'm wondering what part of his brain Ethan had actually damaged in his sleep somehow. I mean, the closet isn't THAT big, and we did determine that he was actually looking on the left side of the closet as instructed, what could the problem possibly be? Finally, after I rather forcefully repeated the top rack, bottom rack line again. He found it. Whew! Good lord! So I say, "Why on earth couldn't you find it before?" To which he responded, "Well, when you say RACK, I think BOOBS!" What???????
I proceeded to inform him that he was a complete idiot! His response to that was, "No, I'm just a 13 year old boy! To me, that's what a rack is." Oh I get it now, I'm thinking, because surely it would have made sense that I'd tell him to go to the closet and look on top of the lower BOOBS on the left side! Right?
When did we go from this:
to this?
Ethan is home sick from school today, and actually wanted to do some science homework on the computer. Unfortunately, he's grounded from everything in life, so I had to break down and tell him where my laptop was hidden.
I told him to go into my closet and look on top of the lower rack on the left. Not too hard, right? For some reason he was struggling with these directions. After several rounds of, "I don't see it!" followed by me saying, "ok, there's a top rack, and a bottom rack. It's on top of the bottom rack." We each kept repeating these responses, and I'm wondering what part of his brain Ethan had actually damaged in his sleep somehow. I mean, the closet isn't THAT big, and we did determine that he was actually looking on the left side of the closet as instructed, what could the problem possibly be? Finally, after I rather forcefully repeated the top rack, bottom rack line again. He found it. Whew! Good lord! So I say, "Why on earth couldn't you find it before?" To which he responded, "Well, when you say RACK, I think BOOBS!" What???????
I proceeded to inform him that he was a complete idiot! His response to that was, "No, I'm just a 13 year old boy! To me, that's what a rack is." Oh I get it now, I'm thinking, because surely it would have made sense that I'd tell him to go to the closet and look on top of the lower BOOBS on the left side! Right?
When did we go from this:
Ethan at 6 months
Who, me?
Oh if he were only this easy now!!! I miss those days, but now know that he had already been exposed to ugliness and evil. Bless him. That sweet child is still in there, but he's scared and hurt. I pray daily that he will fieel the confidence to come back out.
Repost: Update on Move (2009)
Figured I might as well finish up the story of the great migration from Ohio to Texas in 2009. As you know already, we didn't move to San Antonio. Instead, we came back to Denton. Soooooo glad I did. I'm happy here. :)
Update on the Texas move!
by Leigh Range on Wednesday, June 3, 2009 at 1:13pm
I've gotten bunches of questions and notes from many of you asking what the hell I'm doing regarding the move to San Antonio, so I thought I'd write the answers in a note here to make it easier for all.
What the hell am I doing?
Apparently not exactly what I THOUGHT I was doing, but still basic plan in place. I've spent the last 10 days down in TX looking for a house, trying to make plans, etc. As I went about San Antonio looking for housing, schools and all, it just kept feeling more and more like this wasn't the right thing afterall. Moving back to Texas was definitely the right thing, but San Antonio was not feeling the right place to be within Texas. After a few days, I had a little breakdown and knew for sure that it wasn't where we were supposed to be. But now what? I've quit my job, sold my house, and have to go somewhere!AND have two kids in tow who can't know how incredibly confused I am or they will start to worry. Crap! Time to rethink this venture.
Many of you asked why San Antonio in the first place, and while my sister and dad were much of the reason, I also just figured I'd try some place new. That question was usually followed by the why not back up north to the D/FW area, and the best answer I could ever give to that one was because I'd already done that twice. However, in my frustration with the search in SA, all I wanted to do was head up north where I felt at home, and be with my friends. BELLS GOING OFF HERE! LIGHT BULB GOING ON! Duh! Maybe that's where I should be looking in the first place? Time for a gut check, so the next day I hop in the car and head up to Denton/DFW for the weekend, just to see. As I got closer, I felt more and more at home. I was also able to get in touch with some old friends at the former school district I worked for last, and even had a really productive day meeting people and talking on Monday. Everything seemed so much more "right." Housing --- well there's tons of it. School districts --- several good ones to choose from. Job opportunities --- more. Seems like a no brainer doesn't it? The other requirements of friends and family are more than met as well. And finally, I discovered I'm really not any farther away from family in Huntsville, Houston, and College Station than I was in SA. That was the last puzzle piece.
So, as I am almost always a "glass half full" kind of person, I've decided to look at this as a "third time's the charm situation." I think I just fought it for a few reasons that really don't hold up, and I have had many happy times up there both times I've lived there before. It all feels right, and that goes a long way.
While I was gone over the 10 days, all hell was breaking loose back in Ohio. Ethan and his father had a rather bad fight which led to Ethan (at 13) staying at the house by himself for most of the time I was gone. Fortunately, the house is still standing, and basically he did very well and was very responsible, but that whole common sense thing is still a bit of a missing link in the 13 year old brain. The other tragedy was that one of our cats died, and it was hard for me and the boys not to be together. We will miss our Gulu Gulu very much :( !!! It was a big surprise.
Now, over the next four weeks, I've got to finish up my job, pack up, sell up what I'm not packing up, make all the PODS arrangements, ship the kids off, and then on July 1st, Gertie (the remaining cat) and I will head down to the Denton area. For those of you who haven't been there for many years, it's not at all how you remember it, and yet it is. It is probably 3 times the size it was back in the old days, and the whole area has grown up so unbelievably that you just simply have to see it to believe it. Not really the small college town it used to be, but still maintains those characteristics as well.
I'll let you know when I have a final "planting" location after I get down there in July. All I can say is that life is weird, and sometimes those winds of change blow you in a direction you weren't expecting. The great bit of wisdom I've learned through many difficult and trying times over the last several year is, what happens as the unexpected is usually what the best answer is in the end. Sometimes you have to learn how to shut and listen, and pay attention to the signs in front of you. My stubborn nature has some difficulty in that area, but I'm getting better. The basic plan is still in place, just a new locale.
That's what's up with the move. If any of you out there are sitting around with absolutely nothing to do and think it would be fun to pack boxes, have a yard sale, and drive 1,200 miles with me and a cat, let me know! LOL
I love each and every one of you and can't tell you how much I've needed and appreciated all of your support. You guys do a great job of encouraging me and telling me I can do it. Thanks!
What the hell am I doing?
Apparently not exactly what I THOUGHT I was doing, but still basic plan in place. I've spent the last 10 days down in TX looking for a house, trying to make plans, etc. As I went about San Antonio looking for housing, schools and all, it just kept feeling more and more like this wasn't the right thing afterall. Moving back to Texas was definitely the right thing, but San Antonio was not feeling the right place to be within Texas. After a few days, I had a little breakdown and knew for sure that it wasn't where we were supposed to be. But now what? I've quit my job, sold my house, and have to go somewhere!AND have two kids in tow who can't know how incredibly confused I am or they will start to worry. Crap! Time to rethink this venture.
Many of you asked why San Antonio in the first place, and while my sister and dad were much of the reason, I also just figured I'd try some place new. That question was usually followed by the why not back up north to the D/FW area, and the best answer I could ever give to that one was because I'd already done that twice. However, in my frustration with the search in SA, all I wanted to do was head up north where I felt at home, and be with my friends. BELLS GOING OFF HERE! LIGHT BULB GOING ON! Duh! Maybe that's where I should be looking in the first place? Time for a gut check, so the next day I hop in the car and head up to Denton/DFW for the weekend, just to see. As I got closer, I felt more and more at home. I was also able to get in touch with some old friends at the former school district I worked for last, and even had a really productive day meeting people and talking on Monday. Everything seemed so much more "right." Housing --- well there's tons of it. School districts --- several good ones to choose from. Job opportunities --- more. Seems like a no brainer doesn't it? The other requirements of friends and family are more than met as well. And finally, I discovered I'm really not any farther away from family in Huntsville, Houston, and College Station than I was in SA. That was the last puzzle piece.
So, as I am almost always a "glass half full" kind of person, I've decided to look at this as a "third time's the charm situation." I think I just fought it for a few reasons that really don't hold up, and I have had many happy times up there both times I've lived there before. It all feels right, and that goes a long way.
While I was gone over the 10 days, all hell was breaking loose back in Ohio. Ethan and his father had a rather bad fight which led to Ethan (at 13) staying at the house by himself for most of the time I was gone. Fortunately, the house is still standing, and basically he did very well and was very responsible, but that whole common sense thing is still a bit of a missing link in the 13 year old brain. The other tragedy was that one of our cats died, and it was hard for me and the boys not to be together. We will miss our Gulu Gulu very much :( !!! It was a big surprise.
Now, over the next four weeks, I've got to finish up my job, pack up, sell up what I'm not packing up, make all the PODS arrangements, ship the kids off, and then on July 1st, Gertie (the remaining cat) and I will head down to the Denton area. For those of you who haven't been there for many years, it's not at all how you remember it, and yet it is. It is probably 3 times the size it was back in the old days, and the whole area has grown up so unbelievably that you just simply have to see it to believe it. Not really the small college town it used to be, but still maintains those characteristics as well.
I'll let you know when I have a final "planting" location after I get down there in July. All I can say is that life is weird, and sometimes those winds of change blow you in a direction you weren't expecting. The great bit of wisdom I've learned through many difficult and trying times over the last several year is, what happens as the unexpected is usually what the best answer is in the end. Sometimes you have to learn how to shut and listen, and pay attention to the signs in front of you. My stubborn nature has some difficulty in that area, but I'm getting better. The basic plan is still in place, just a new locale.
That's what's up with the move. If any of you out there are sitting around with absolutely nothing to do and think it would be fun to pack boxes, have a yard sale, and drive 1,200 miles with me and a cat, let me know! LOL
I love each and every one of you and can't tell you how much I've needed and appreciated all of your support. You guys do a great job of encouraging me and telling me I can do it. Thanks!
Repost: My Catch Up Story
This is something I posted a couple of years ago (2009) when I first started finding everyone on Facebook. I got tired of explaining the chaos every time, so wrote it up. Imagine that? Lol. Decided to archive it here.
My catch up story . . .
by Leigh Range on Monday, January 19, 2009 at 10:03pm
Chapter 1: I was born. (oh wait, that would be plagiarism!)
Seriously, I left off with some of you at high school and some of you in college, so skip around:
1982-88 The Denton, TX years:
went to college at what is now UNT --- joind Sigma Alpha Mu Fraternity (Sammy's) as a little sister --- loved it and made wonderful friends who I'm happy to have found again --- moved across town to TWU and finished my degree in education & reading --- taught at Grapevine Middle School --- great job! --- decided I needed a change so moved to Atlanta, GA
1988-89 the brief Atlanta years: taught 6th grade, loved the kids, but really bad teaching situation--- got very ill with Epstein-Barr Virus and couldn't continue --- came back to Texas
1990-92 the Huntsville, TX years:
got better --- went to grad school at Sam Houston State and earned a Master's in History -- certified in secondary history & English (just in case I needed. This was before I fully realized that you rarely get to teach history or social studies unless you can also coach something!) ---- really happy time --- studied mainly medieval and British history through Tudor period. Really, is there anything else? --- met future husband and moved on with him while he did his doctorate
1992-96 the Denton, TX years Part II:
married --- taught at Northwest HS in Justin, TX while husband goes to school --- loved this job! --- still miss some of those kids! --- had Ethan in 1995 !!!!! --- happy, happy, happy baby! --- got to stay home with him and loved it --- husband gets PhD in English from UNT and then gets a job
1996-2004 the Ohio years:
Move to Ohio for husband to teach at Muskingum College --- after first year, finally back in the classroom teaching at the College too as part-time and loving it!!! --- 1999 Asa is born!!!!! --- another sweet boy! --- Life seems pretty good
2004- present, still Ohio, but everything changes:
ooops, just thought life was pretty good, apparently we didn't all feel that way! --- need full-time job, husband leaving --- accepted offer of Asst. to VPAA for Student Services at Muskingum --- life of official single parenting begins --- learn tons of new skills in education programming, etc, but work too much, always worn out, too much time away from kids ---- hard to switch to no summers off after all these years! --- 2005 divorce is final --- boys and I move on --- lots of health issues --- I'll get over it --- stay positive, more out there for me yet!
Currently: realized in the last few years how much I miss my "old" self and working hard to get back there --- friends are priceless! --- been up here almost 13 years without family and couldn't have made it without my friends --- making some changes in my life, my kids and I are moving back to Texas, to San Antonio to be exact, and I'm going to go back to public school teaching--- I miss the classroom terribly and although I've enjoyed some aspects of administration, it's not for me forever --- looking forward to having more time with my own kids, and doing what I love and am best at--- know exactly what I need to do for me and the boys --- just a bit frightening making such a big move and change with kids in tow -- wish us luck!
Life may change, but some things, many of the best things, don't. My mantra is, "It is what it is." Live it, learn from it, and keep going. More to see, do, and experience. Don't want to miss out on anything. Love to travel!! In the course of all these years squeezed in a few trips to England, Ireland, and Italy, some of my favorite places. Art, history, beauty, peacefulness, and love make me feel alive. Adore Ethan and Asa! They suck the life out of me, but I wouldn't trade them for anything! Hope to get out into the world again in the coming year, maybe even go on a date . . . no, that might be going a bit too far.
Anyway, I'm happy and excited about life still. Hard not to be. I'm even more glad to have so many of you back in my life!
Seriously, I left off with some of you at high school and some of you in college, so skip around:
1982-88 The Denton, TX years:
went to college at what is now UNT --- joind Sigma Alpha Mu Fraternity (Sammy's) as a little sister --- loved it and made wonderful friends who I'm happy to have found again --- moved across town to TWU and finished my degree in education & reading --- taught at Grapevine Middle School --- great job! --- decided I needed a change so moved to Atlanta, GA
1988-89 the brief Atlanta years: taught 6th grade, loved the kids, but really bad teaching situation--- got very ill with Epstein-Barr Virus and couldn't continue --- came back to Texas
1990-92 the Huntsville, TX years:
got better --- went to grad school at Sam Houston State and earned a Master's in History -- certified in secondary history & English (just in case I needed. This was before I fully realized that you rarely get to teach history or social studies unless you can also coach something!) ---- really happy time --- studied mainly medieval and British history through Tudor period. Really, is there anything else? --- met future husband and moved on with him while he did his doctorate
1992-96 the Denton, TX years Part II:
married --- taught at Northwest HS in Justin, TX while husband goes to school --- loved this job! --- still miss some of those kids! --- had Ethan in 1995 !!!!! --- happy, happy, happy baby! --- got to stay home with him and loved it --- husband gets PhD in English from UNT and then gets a job
1996-2004 the Ohio years:
Move to Ohio for husband to teach at Muskingum College --- after first year, finally back in the classroom teaching at the College too as part-time and loving it!!! --- 1999 Asa is born!!!!! --- another sweet boy! --- Life seems pretty good
2004- present, still Ohio, but everything changes:
ooops, just thought life was pretty good, apparently we didn't all feel that way! --- need full-time job, husband leaving --- accepted offer of Asst. to VPAA for Student Services at Muskingum --- life of official single parenting begins --- learn tons of new skills in education programming, etc, but work too much, always worn out, too much time away from kids ---- hard to switch to no summers off after all these years! --- 2005 divorce is final --- boys and I move on --- lots of health issues --- I'll get over it --- stay positive, more out there for me yet!
Currently: realized in the last few years how much I miss my "old" self and working hard to get back there --- friends are priceless! --- been up here almost 13 years without family and couldn't have made it without my friends --- making some changes in my life, my kids and I are moving back to Texas, to San Antonio to be exact, and I'm going to go back to public school teaching--- I miss the classroom terribly and although I've enjoyed some aspects of administration, it's not for me forever --- looking forward to having more time with my own kids, and doing what I love and am best at--- know exactly what I need to do for me and the boys --- just a bit frightening making such a big move and change with kids in tow -- wish us luck!
Life may change, but some things, many of the best things, don't. My mantra is, "It is what it is." Live it, learn from it, and keep going. More to see, do, and experience. Don't want to miss out on anything. Love to travel!! In the course of all these years squeezed in a few trips to England, Ireland, and Italy, some of my favorite places. Art, history, beauty, peacefulness, and love make me feel alive. Adore Ethan and Asa! They suck the life out of me, but I wouldn't trade them for anything! Hope to get out into the world again in the coming year, maybe even go on a date . . . no, that might be going a bit too far.
Anyway, I'm happy and excited about life still. Hard not to be. I'm even more glad to have so many of you back in my life!
Monday, May 23, 2011
What's in a name?
So, I've been asked why I called my blog Dunbeg Dreaming: Thoughts from the cliff. Here's why . . .
Have you ever been somewhere that had an incredible, indescribable hold on you? A place where you're sure you've been before? I can't say that I believe in reincarnation in the traditional Hindu sense, I'm quite the Episcopalian in my thinking (Episcopalian aka almost a Catholic.) However, knowing that energy never dies, I have to believe that there are aspects of our souls which do pass through time, and since "time" is a human creation, who knows when anything is actually "happening" in the universe?!
All that being said, what does it have to do with Dunbeg Dreaming? Well, I've been to several places in my travels where I've had the overwhelming sensation I had been there before, in some other place and time. One example was my first trip to Rome, Italy, in 1987. I creeped out a friend I was wandering with for the day from our tour group, by never once referring to a map of the city, and yet getting us where we wanted to go with complete ease. After touring St. Peter's, we headed toward the Pantheon. I said to her, rather matter of factly, "Just follow me. I know how to get there." Off we went, and I was right. I hadn't even realized that I had done it. My friend pointed it out to me as we were wandering through the Forum and I was giving her a not-so-mini history lesson. Finally, she just stopped dead in her tracks and said, "Leigh, you are completely giving me the creeps! Stop knowing it like you were here yesterday!" Then I realized what she was talking about. Wow! Kind of creeped myself out after that. So when I went back in 2008, I thought I'd test myself to see if I still had it. Yep! As long as I was in the "old" section, I could go anywhere, know exactly where I was, and never get lost or confused. In the Forum, I had the same sense of recognition I felt 20 years earlier. Then, in order to test a little more, I ventured into the more modern sections, and I was completely lost. Ended up taking a taxi back to my hotel because I was totally disoriented, and that had nothing to do with the wine. :)
There are places in England where I've felt similar experiences, like in York, or the far north of Scotland. But the place I felt it the strongest ever was at the little Iron Age fort on the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland. It's Fort Dunbeg. That is a picture of it I'm using as my thumbnail here. I'll never forget the first time I was there. My sister, Katharine, and I were on a trip to Ireland together (2003, we think). It was my first time over, and I was loving every minute. My family history is pretty purely Irish, Scottish, English, and Welsh, so I always feel a strong connection to that part of the world. The Irish music sinks deeeep into my soul, as if I can feel it moving through my blood. I love the ancient history of the variety of peoples who inhabited Ireland, and I find it fascinating that there are no indigenous people of Ireland. Anyway, we were driving out on the Dingle Peninsula, and had seen Fort Dunbeg listed in one of the guide books, so decided to look for it. It's so small, and everything is blessedly not touristified there, so we almost drove past it. As soon as we got out of the car though, I took a deep breath of that cold, crisp, ancient sea air. As I went closer to the fort, I felt more and more "at home." I almost wanted to run to it like the Prodigal Son who hadn't been home for many years. It was an overwhelming feeling. The waves were crashing around the cliffs and rocks, the cold wind was blowing, and I have never felt more at home anywhere, at any time in my life. I walked through the doorway opening to the interior, and could just "see" all the activity and life that had been there. That fullness of soul is something so unusual. My mind felt crystal clear and at peace. I watched the waves crash, the sheep eating grass right up to the edge of the cliff, and just stood on that cliff --- thinking. I could have stayed there, watching the waves, feeling the air, etc. forever.
It's safe to say that Katharine didn't quite have the same experience. I believe her response was something like, "Yea, this is cool. Ok, it's too fucking cold! Let's go!" Not that she didn't appreciate it, but it wasn't the same. You crack me up Katharine!
Have you ever been somewhere that had an incredible, indescribable hold on you? A place where you're sure you've been before? I can't say that I believe in reincarnation in the traditional Hindu sense, I'm quite the Episcopalian in my thinking (Episcopalian aka almost a Catholic.) However, knowing that energy never dies, I have to believe that there are aspects of our souls which do pass through time, and since "time" is a human creation, who knows when anything is actually "happening" in the universe?!
All that being said, what does it have to do with Dunbeg Dreaming? Well, I've been to several places in my travels where I've had the overwhelming sensation I had been there before, in some other place and time. One example was my first trip to Rome, Italy, in 1987. I creeped out a friend I was wandering with for the day from our tour group, by never once referring to a map of the city, and yet getting us where we wanted to go with complete ease. After touring St. Peter's, we headed toward the Pantheon. I said to her, rather matter of factly, "Just follow me. I know how to get there." Off we went, and I was right. I hadn't even realized that I had done it. My friend pointed it out to me as we were wandering through the Forum and I was giving her a not-so-mini history lesson. Finally, she just stopped dead in her tracks and said, "Leigh, you are completely giving me the creeps! Stop knowing it like you were here yesterday!" Then I realized what she was talking about. Wow! Kind of creeped myself out after that. So when I went back in 2008, I thought I'd test myself to see if I still had it. Yep! As long as I was in the "old" section, I could go anywhere, know exactly where I was, and never get lost or confused. In the Forum, I had the same sense of recognition I felt 20 years earlier. Then, in order to test a little more, I ventured into the more modern sections, and I was completely lost. Ended up taking a taxi back to my hotel because I was totally disoriented, and that had nothing to do with the wine. :)
There are places in England where I've felt similar experiences, like in York, or the far north of Scotland. But the place I felt it the strongest ever was at the little Iron Age fort on the Dingle Peninsula in Ireland. It's Fort Dunbeg. That is a picture of it I'm using as my thumbnail here. I'll never forget the first time I was there. My sister, Katharine, and I were on a trip to Ireland together (2003, we think). It was my first time over, and I was loving every minute. My family history is pretty purely Irish, Scottish, English, and Welsh, so I always feel a strong connection to that part of the world. The Irish music sinks deeeep into my soul, as if I can feel it moving through my blood. I love the ancient history of the variety of peoples who inhabited Ireland, and I find it fascinating that there are no indigenous people of Ireland. Anyway, we were driving out on the Dingle Peninsula, and had seen Fort Dunbeg listed in one of the guide books, so decided to look for it. It's so small, and everything is blessedly not touristified there, so we almost drove past it. As soon as we got out of the car though, I took a deep breath of that cold, crisp, ancient sea air. As I went closer to the fort, I felt more and more "at home." I almost wanted to run to it like the Prodigal Son who hadn't been home for many years. It was an overwhelming feeling. The waves were crashing around the cliffs and rocks, the cold wind was blowing, and I have never felt more at home anywhere, at any time in my life. I walked through the doorway opening to the interior, and could just "see" all the activity and life that had been there. That fullness of soul is something so unusual. My mind felt crystal clear and at peace. I watched the waves crash, the sheep eating grass right up to the edge of the cliff, and just stood on that cliff --- thinking. I could have stayed there, watching the waves, feeling the air, etc. forever.
It's safe to say that Katharine didn't quite have the same experience. I believe her response was something like, "Yea, this is cool. Ok, it's too fucking cold! Let's go!" Not that she didn't appreciate it, but it wasn't the same. You crack me up Katharine!
In 2007, I had the priviledge of co-leading a group of students from our college in Ohio on a trip to Ireland. As my friend Meri Linn and I planned the agenda, I insisted that we make a stop at Fort Dunbeg. She was game for anything. We had a great group of kids for this trip, and it was clearly obvious on the day we did our Dingle trip. That morning is was cold, VERY windy, and light drizzle. The tour guide and bus driver had never even heard of Fort Dunbeg (and yes, they were from Ireland), and when the driver finally found it, the tour director looked at me as if I was a little crazy. It was just a little stone compound. Even worse, the wind was now GALE FORCE, with a driving rain that felt like needles!! So she says to me as I start to get up to leave the bus, "You don't actually want to go out there in this, on the cliff, do you?" Of course I do! I said that anybody who wanted to join me was welcome to, but it was optional. I just needed about 15 minutes and I'd be happy. Well, every single one of those kids went out there!! I was so proud of them! They didn't want to miss out on anything, even this little pile of stones. The wind was so strong we could barely stand up. Those kids ventured out to the cliff, climbed the rocks, and loved it! Fortunately, we didn't find out until that night just how strong the winds were, and thank goodness they were blowing inland! We didn't lose anyone off the cliff, and in the end, it was the favorite day for most of them.
So Dunbeg . . . . it's my home. Some part of me was there a very, very long time ago, and it is still part of my soul. I long for another trip back, but until then, I like to visualize the cliffs when I need to relax and think, and I'm dunbeg dreaming :)
A youtube video that someone took:
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Mother's Day: the naked truth
Ok, now that we've all given our mothers the proper, and completely appropriate adulation for Mother's Day, let's look at the reality of it . . . . the whole motherhood thing is really pretty weird, from the very beginning!
I guess I should back up to the first parents. (I'm going to go with the creationist theory here for the fun of it.) First, God made Adam. Now think about that whole process. If the original plan was just for Adam, why did He give Adam a penis? God: "oh yes, the new creation is beautiful and handsome, but he seems to be missing something. How 'bout we give him a little permanently attached play thing? Hmmm . . . now he'll always have something to keep himself occupied." Poof! Penis attached! Apparently it wasn't enough for Adam though, and he needed a companion. So God made Eve.
Now, imagine the making of Eve. "Well, that attached play toy I gave Adam didn't quite keep him occupied, so I think we'll skip it on Eve, but maybe she can make use of that penis thing. Hmmm . . . while we're at it, let's make use of it productively. (pun intended)" So there ya go, sex was created, and procreation through the act. So, humans are different from the animal kingdom when we mate (I guess), but when you think about it, isn't the whole sex act to produce a new human being kind of strange? Just ponder it for a moment. It's ever so complicated for that one special sperm to win the race to the egg, and there can be all kinds of interference along the way to keep it from reaching it's goal. Uncomplicated physical act, but complicated fertilization. Then those two little microscopic entities join up, and an entirely new human being begins to form, INSIDE the woman, Eve. God: "I know, let's do this!!! Let Adam and Eve do the sex thing thinking that they're just having some fun, but then we'll give them a real surprise! He, he, he. And let's make sure Eve is the one to have the new being in the belly because Adam, although tough in his own way, couldn't quite deal with what would happen next."
What happens next? Morning sickness, swelling limbs, an unbelievably growing belly, lots of discomfort . . . and the wonderful feeling when you feel that being move for the first time, the joy when you literally watch a foot move across your belly, and that reassuring heartbeat. You wait for what sometimes seems like an eternity. Hey, this might be fun! After all, babies are so sweet, and it takes nothing at all to make us go silly over the slightest movement or facial motion. Yep, this'll be fun! And then . . . it has to come out of WHAT????????? Seriously? Childbirth . . . what can I say? It's one of the most natural, unnatural things in the world. Sex. Lucky sperm meets egg. Growth of a human being, floating around, growing all the parts, waiting to end it's physical parasite existence and enter the world. Bringing that little life out through a ridiculous place, the strangest pain you'll ever feel, and very quickly forget. Then boom!! The baby is here!
As mom, we have grown a parasite, which has become a new human being, and WE are responsible for it! Yikes!!! Then, the REAL journey begins! Every little thing is amazing to us. All the things they learn. Did you ever think you'd be cheering when someone was able to roll over? It's all so exciting that we suddenly have no problem handling lots of pee and poop all day. In fact, it's the most common topic of conversation. We don't mind at all being barfed on. When that little baby cries in the middle of the night, we hate to get out of bed, but are somehow relieved that it's crying, then equally relieved when that stops. We can handle all of it, until we hear the much dreaded word come from that adorable mouth . . . no! Gasp!! Did that sweet baby I carried for 9 months just tell me NO? Where did he learn that word?? Oh, from me. Ooops.
That's the point where it all changes. From "no" on, it's a different ball game. From that point, although there are many bright spots, there are many, many challenges. We have the moments where we think, "And we thought this would be fun?" And then we see the real miracle. Yes, the whole creation of life from the basic act of sex, the growth of a fetus, child birth, etc., all that is a miracle. Pure miracle! But the real miracle is the unbelievable love we feel for that child. There is nothing like it in the universe. It's there for mothers who have given birth, and those who have adopted. It's a switch that goes off in our hearts when we have the first awareness of this new life. No matter what they do, it never goes away. It causes us to react in ways we didn't know we could. It gives us unbelievable joy, and it can bring unbelievable pain. But in that miracle, the joy of the child always outweighs any pain. There is nothing like the love of a mother, and blessedly, nothing like the love of the child for his mom. There are lots of physical miracles, but it's the miracle of the heart that is most astounding.
I love you Ethan and Asa! :)
I guess I should back up to the first parents. (I'm going to go with the creationist theory here for the fun of it.) First, God made Adam. Now think about that whole process. If the original plan was just for Adam, why did He give Adam a penis? God: "oh yes, the new creation is beautiful and handsome, but he seems to be missing something. How 'bout we give him a little permanently attached play thing? Hmmm . . . now he'll always have something to keep himself occupied." Poof! Penis attached! Apparently it wasn't enough for Adam though, and he needed a companion. So God made Eve.
Now, imagine the making of Eve. "Well, that attached play toy I gave Adam didn't quite keep him occupied, so I think we'll skip it on Eve, but maybe she can make use of that penis thing. Hmmm . . . while we're at it, let's make use of it productively. (pun intended)" So there ya go, sex was created, and procreation through the act. So, humans are different from the animal kingdom when we mate (I guess), but when you think about it, isn't the whole sex act to produce a new human being kind of strange? Just ponder it for a moment. It's ever so complicated for that one special sperm to win the race to the egg, and there can be all kinds of interference along the way to keep it from reaching it's goal. Uncomplicated physical act, but complicated fertilization. Then those two little microscopic entities join up, and an entirely new human being begins to form, INSIDE the woman, Eve. God: "I know, let's do this!!! Let Adam and Eve do the sex thing thinking that they're just having some fun, but then we'll give them a real surprise! He, he, he. And let's make sure Eve is the one to have the new being in the belly because Adam, although tough in his own way, couldn't quite deal with what would happen next."
What happens next? Morning sickness, swelling limbs, an unbelievably growing belly, lots of discomfort . . . and the wonderful feeling when you feel that being move for the first time, the joy when you literally watch a foot move across your belly, and that reassuring heartbeat. You wait for what sometimes seems like an eternity. Hey, this might be fun! After all, babies are so sweet, and it takes nothing at all to make us go silly over the slightest movement or facial motion. Yep, this'll be fun! And then . . . it has to come out of WHAT????????? Seriously? Childbirth . . . what can I say? It's one of the most natural, unnatural things in the world. Sex. Lucky sperm meets egg. Growth of a human being, floating around, growing all the parts, waiting to end it's physical parasite existence and enter the world. Bringing that little life out through a ridiculous place, the strangest pain you'll ever feel, and very quickly forget. Then boom!! The baby is here!
As mom, we have grown a parasite, which has become a new human being, and WE are responsible for it! Yikes!!! Then, the REAL journey begins! Every little thing is amazing to us. All the things they learn. Did you ever think you'd be cheering when someone was able to roll over? It's all so exciting that we suddenly have no problem handling lots of pee and poop all day. In fact, it's the most common topic of conversation. We don't mind at all being barfed on. When that little baby cries in the middle of the night, we hate to get out of bed, but are somehow relieved that it's crying, then equally relieved when that stops. We can handle all of it, until we hear the much dreaded word come from that adorable mouth . . . no! Gasp!! Did that sweet baby I carried for 9 months just tell me NO? Where did he learn that word?? Oh, from me. Ooops.
That's the point where it all changes. From "no" on, it's a different ball game. From that point, although there are many bright spots, there are many, many challenges. We have the moments where we think, "And we thought this would be fun?" And then we see the real miracle. Yes, the whole creation of life from the basic act of sex, the growth of a fetus, child birth, etc., all that is a miracle. Pure miracle! But the real miracle is the unbelievable love we feel for that child. There is nothing like it in the universe. It's there for mothers who have given birth, and those who have adopted. It's a switch that goes off in our hearts when we have the first awareness of this new life. No matter what they do, it never goes away. It causes us to react in ways we didn't know we could. It gives us unbelievable joy, and it can bring unbelievable pain. But in that miracle, the joy of the child always outweighs any pain. There is nothing like the love of a mother, and blessedly, nothing like the love of the child for his mom. There are lots of physical miracles, but it's the miracle of the heart that is most astounding.
I love you Ethan and Asa! :)
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Is it hope, or faith?
I believe that I have basically spent the last year in fear. There were more years of fear before this, but they weren't quite as full of it as this one. On April 29, 2010, Ethan entered the hospital for the first time, in an attempt to deal with his substance abuse and any related mental health issues. He was 14. That day, as I walked out to the parking lot with his enormous shoes (he couldn't have them in there) and a stack of papers, I thought it could never get any worse. I felt alone, scared, anxious, sad, guilty, and about a million other things. I wondered if I was doing the right thing. I cried, and cried, and cried. I was leaving my baby there, and I had no idea what was going to happen. The only thing that kept me going was hope, and I had that because he voluntarily allowed himself to be admitted. I was proud of him for that, and it gave me hope that he would benefit from this.
From that point, I had to switch over to faith. Faith that he would get better. Faith that whatever it was going to take, it would be best in the end. Faith and prayer.
20 days later, he was sent home with 10 medications, a million diagnoses, and a very nervous mother. He had also picked up some bad habits while in there. However, what could I do but have hope that it would be an improvement and we could get on with life. Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of faith that was going to be the case. So, five days later, Ethan came to me and said, "Mom, I don't think I was finished yet. I need to go back." The next day we checked him back in. Turns out he just wanted a few days off so he could get high for a while and had every intention of going back in the first place. Less faith, less hope. But here we go again because . . . what else are we supposed to do?
With every visit ,I felt like things weren't getting better, but were instead slipping away and out of control. What the hell was going on??? I was concerned about the massive amount of medications he was on, but how would I know if he was really suffering from bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc. Can't even remember all the things they listed. After all, the doctors and staff there were supposed to be the ones in the know. I had to just HOPE that they were right. A couple of weeks back in, he revealed some things that he had experienced and been exposed to when we lived in Ohio. Without going into much detail, I can tell you that at the age of 12, he was exposed to evil, violence, and an inescapable obligation . . . oh, and drugs, lots of drugs. I didn't have a clue. He was well trained to appear to be a normal suburban kid. He dressed right, got in trouble for the right things like smoking cigars, ringing doorbells, etc. all so that I wouldn't suspect there was anything worse going on. And I didn't suspect. I knew he had other issues such as a father who had basically never been much of a father, insecurities about his appearance, struggling with math, and all the usual middle school issues.
This information was exposed on Friday, June 4. I went through the weekend trying to process it all and dredge up the hope that maybe we could now get to the root of the problem and begin to correct things. The following Monday night, just 3 days later, I received a call from the hospital checking to make sure I was going to be present at Ethan's mental health hearing Wednesday morning and his discharge to the state hospital in Wichita Falls. What?????????????????? "Do you mean you weren't notified that we had filed on Ethan?" No!!! What the hell does that even mean?????????? What mental health hearing? What discharge? What? What? What? The next 36 hours, if that long, was filled with anxiety, fear, false information, false documents, and a day I thought was most certainly the worst day I would ever experience as a mother. What kept me going over that 36 hours was Ethan. He kept reassuring me, constantly saying, "Mom, you know I need to do this. I'm ok." At the end of that day, I was a complete blubbering ball of mush. There isn't enough space here to write what all I felt, but what picked me up off the ground was faith. I didn't even know what to hope for, and I couldn't focus it, but faith, that was absolutely ALL I had to lean on. And off went Ethan to 3 months in the state hospital.
I remained faithful, but somewhat hopeless throughout that summer. All of the treatment he'd received was for mental health, and once in Wichita Falls, I discovered that that campus didn't have an adolescent substance abuse program. Navigating the mental health system is a nightmare!! I was a complete rookie and had many misfires. Throughout, I only had faith. I had lost a lot of hope. I knew he wasn't getting all of the right kind of help that he needed, but there did seem to be a little progress in dealing with the PTSD related to the Ohio stuff. The plan was that when he was released from the state hospital, Ethan would enter a substance abuse program to work on that component. Sounds logical, right? Only one problem, on top of the complete lack of adolescent treatment programs, especially dual-diagnosis programs, the ones that are out there wouldn't take him because he hadn't "used" in the last 30 days and therefore, insurance wouldn't likely cover it for them. No shit he hasn't used in the last 30 days!!! He's been in the fucking state hospital you idiots!!! At one point, my frustration was so high that I asked one of the intake people if I should just go buy him some pot so he would qualify. That's how crazy it was. In the end, he was released and came home, with no program in place. This couldn't be the right thing, I thought, and lost a lot of faith. Instead, I could only hope.
It didn't take him long to go back to the lifestyle he felt most comfortable in. From September, when he came home, until Thanksgiving, things got steadily worse. By the week after Thanksgiving, it had reached a dangerous point and I was downright scared. Scared to death! That was when I discovered he had been hoarding his medication to take as he pleased in the amounts and when he wanted, and was also using it to get what he wanted instead from others. When confronted with this, and told we were going to have to find a treatment program, he became violent. He was high, and remembers very little of what happened, but he threw things at me, broke things, trashed what he could before the police arrived. Once again, I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. Ethan was back in the hospital. Ok, have to dredge up some more faith and hope if I can find them.
Needless to say, that hospitalization didn't help either. Same story, diagnose him immediately and throw a bunch of meds at him. The incredibly arrogant ass of a doctor even told me he had "cured" Ethan in the first day or two. Right . . . . Two weeks later, he was home. I was scared. I knew it wasn't right, but wasn't given any choices. Ethan had now been in the hospital 4 times, but none had dealt with the substance abuse issue. He'd been hospitalized, but not rehabed. Things went downhill again by January, and kept spiraling downward more and more rapidly. After 4 hospitalizations, two psychiatrists outside of the hospital, incredibly thorough psychological and brain testing, and about $30k, Ethan didn't seem to be any better, and was possibly even worse. I was terrified that he would not survive himself, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do to help him if he wasn't going to help himself. Natural consequences were going to have to catch up with him, but I was so very afraid it might be too late. I had no way to control him at all. It was horrible, frustrating, frightening, every anxious moment was rooted in fear. I rapidly lost hope and faith. I prayed a lot through this last year, but in the last couple of months, I was actually praying for him to get arrested. Probation was the only thing I thought might save him.
Then finally, it happened. He was truant, as usual, and when he was picked up, he had some prescription meds on him, but they weren't his. Bingo!!! They brought him up to my school to bring me in and confirm his story, and he was arrested. As odd as it may sound unless you've been there, I was greatly relieved! When the court decided to keep him for 2 weeks, I was hopeful. Probation! Yea!!! Perhaps that, and a couple of weeks in juvenile detention, would scare him into soberness. The judge even sent Ethan's father a summons to appear at the next hearing. I admit to some satisfaction at seeing him have to finally act a little responsible for his son. Then, 2 more weeks while they did the evaluations, etc. Finally, people were listening to me. They were shocked at what all we had tried to do and what had happened. The probation officer completely "got it" and began the process of keeping him safe! I found hope again, and my faith grew. I actually trusted that these people were going to get him the help he needed. This meeting with the probation officer was exactly a year to the day, April 29th, of Ethan's first hospitalization.
So, here we are today. At today's hearing, he was ordered detained until a space opens at the program. That placement is typically a minimum 45-60 day placement. If he needs more beyond that, he will go to additional long term care for 6-9 months. It's hard to think of him away for so long, but I'd rather have him away for a long time, and maybe even angry at me for years to come, than not here at all. I need Ethan alive, and I have faith and hope that he can do this, no matter how long it takes. That wonderful child many of us remember is still in there. He will be scarred, but he can come back.
So what is hope? What is faith? They are two different things. In this case, faith has been when I have little else to lean on and need to believe that what is happening is right for the purpose it serves, whether I like it or understand it, or not. Hope is when you believe there is a future, and it will be good. Tonight, with the blessing of Ethan's cooperation, I have both. I have faith that our journey together is serving a purpose, and I so want to help any other family going through something similar. It's the worst nightmare. I have faith that Ethan can come through this and put all of these experiences to good use. I also have hope for the future, and for happiness for all of us. I also pray . . . . a lot!
From that point, I had to switch over to faith. Faith that he would get better. Faith that whatever it was going to take, it would be best in the end. Faith and prayer.
20 days later, he was sent home with 10 medications, a million diagnoses, and a very nervous mother. He had also picked up some bad habits while in there. However, what could I do but have hope that it would be an improvement and we could get on with life. Unfortunately, I didn't have a lot of faith that was going to be the case. So, five days later, Ethan came to me and said, "Mom, I don't think I was finished yet. I need to go back." The next day we checked him back in. Turns out he just wanted a few days off so he could get high for a while and had every intention of going back in the first place. Less faith, less hope. But here we go again because . . . what else are we supposed to do?
With every visit ,I felt like things weren't getting better, but were instead slipping away and out of control. What the hell was going on??? I was concerned about the massive amount of medications he was on, but how would I know if he was really suffering from bipolar disorder, ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc. Can't even remember all the things they listed. After all, the doctors and staff there were supposed to be the ones in the know. I had to just HOPE that they were right. A couple of weeks back in, he revealed some things that he had experienced and been exposed to when we lived in Ohio. Without going into much detail, I can tell you that at the age of 12, he was exposed to evil, violence, and an inescapable obligation . . . oh, and drugs, lots of drugs. I didn't have a clue. He was well trained to appear to be a normal suburban kid. He dressed right, got in trouble for the right things like smoking cigars, ringing doorbells, etc. all so that I wouldn't suspect there was anything worse going on. And I didn't suspect. I knew he had other issues such as a father who had basically never been much of a father, insecurities about his appearance, struggling with math, and all the usual middle school issues.
This information was exposed on Friday, June 4. I went through the weekend trying to process it all and dredge up the hope that maybe we could now get to the root of the problem and begin to correct things. The following Monday night, just 3 days later, I received a call from the hospital checking to make sure I was going to be present at Ethan's mental health hearing Wednesday morning and his discharge to the state hospital in Wichita Falls. What?????????????????? "Do you mean you weren't notified that we had filed on Ethan?" No!!! What the hell does that even mean?????????? What mental health hearing? What discharge? What? What? What? The next 36 hours, if that long, was filled with anxiety, fear, false information, false documents, and a day I thought was most certainly the worst day I would ever experience as a mother. What kept me going over that 36 hours was Ethan. He kept reassuring me, constantly saying, "Mom, you know I need to do this. I'm ok." At the end of that day, I was a complete blubbering ball of mush. There isn't enough space here to write what all I felt, but what picked me up off the ground was faith. I didn't even know what to hope for, and I couldn't focus it, but faith, that was absolutely ALL I had to lean on. And off went Ethan to 3 months in the state hospital.
I remained faithful, but somewhat hopeless throughout that summer. All of the treatment he'd received was for mental health, and once in Wichita Falls, I discovered that that campus didn't have an adolescent substance abuse program. Navigating the mental health system is a nightmare!! I was a complete rookie and had many misfires. Throughout, I only had faith. I had lost a lot of hope. I knew he wasn't getting all of the right kind of help that he needed, but there did seem to be a little progress in dealing with the PTSD related to the Ohio stuff. The plan was that when he was released from the state hospital, Ethan would enter a substance abuse program to work on that component. Sounds logical, right? Only one problem, on top of the complete lack of adolescent treatment programs, especially dual-diagnosis programs, the ones that are out there wouldn't take him because he hadn't "used" in the last 30 days and therefore, insurance wouldn't likely cover it for them. No shit he hasn't used in the last 30 days!!! He's been in the fucking state hospital you idiots!!! At one point, my frustration was so high that I asked one of the intake people if I should just go buy him some pot so he would qualify. That's how crazy it was. In the end, he was released and came home, with no program in place. This couldn't be the right thing, I thought, and lost a lot of faith. Instead, I could only hope.
It didn't take him long to go back to the lifestyle he felt most comfortable in. From September, when he came home, until Thanksgiving, things got steadily worse. By the week after Thanksgiving, it had reached a dangerous point and I was downright scared. Scared to death! That was when I discovered he had been hoarding his medication to take as he pleased in the amounts and when he wanted, and was also using it to get what he wanted instead from others. When confronted with this, and told we were going to have to find a treatment program, he became violent. He was high, and remembers very little of what happened, but he threw things at me, broke things, trashed what he could before the police arrived. Once again, I thought it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. Ethan was back in the hospital. Ok, have to dredge up some more faith and hope if I can find them.
Needless to say, that hospitalization didn't help either. Same story, diagnose him immediately and throw a bunch of meds at him. The incredibly arrogant ass of a doctor even told me he had "cured" Ethan in the first day or two. Right . . . . Two weeks later, he was home. I was scared. I knew it wasn't right, but wasn't given any choices. Ethan had now been in the hospital 4 times, but none had dealt with the substance abuse issue. He'd been hospitalized, but not rehabed. Things went downhill again by January, and kept spiraling downward more and more rapidly. After 4 hospitalizations, two psychiatrists outside of the hospital, incredibly thorough psychological and brain testing, and about $30k, Ethan didn't seem to be any better, and was possibly even worse. I was terrified that he would not survive himself, but there seemed to be nothing else I could do to help him if he wasn't going to help himself. Natural consequences were going to have to catch up with him, but I was so very afraid it might be too late. I had no way to control him at all. It was horrible, frustrating, frightening, every anxious moment was rooted in fear. I rapidly lost hope and faith. I prayed a lot through this last year, but in the last couple of months, I was actually praying for him to get arrested. Probation was the only thing I thought might save him.
Then finally, it happened. He was truant, as usual, and when he was picked up, he had some prescription meds on him, but they weren't his. Bingo!!! They brought him up to my school to bring me in and confirm his story, and he was arrested. As odd as it may sound unless you've been there, I was greatly relieved! When the court decided to keep him for 2 weeks, I was hopeful. Probation! Yea!!! Perhaps that, and a couple of weeks in juvenile detention, would scare him into soberness. The judge even sent Ethan's father a summons to appear at the next hearing. I admit to some satisfaction at seeing him have to finally act a little responsible for his son. Then, 2 more weeks while they did the evaluations, etc. Finally, people were listening to me. They were shocked at what all we had tried to do and what had happened. The probation officer completely "got it" and began the process of keeping him safe! I found hope again, and my faith grew. I actually trusted that these people were going to get him the help he needed. This meeting with the probation officer was exactly a year to the day, April 29th, of Ethan's first hospitalization.
So, here we are today. At today's hearing, he was ordered detained until a space opens at the program. That placement is typically a minimum 45-60 day placement. If he needs more beyond that, he will go to additional long term care for 6-9 months. It's hard to think of him away for so long, but I'd rather have him away for a long time, and maybe even angry at me for years to come, than not here at all. I need Ethan alive, and I have faith and hope that he can do this, no matter how long it takes. That wonderful child many of us remember is still in there. He will be scarred, but he can come back.
So what is hope? What is faith? They are two different things. In this case, faith has been when I have little else to lean on and need to believe that what is happening is right for the purpose it serves, whether I like it or understand it, or not. Hope is when you believe there is a future, and it will be good. Tonight, with the blessing of Ethan's cooperation, I have both. I have faith that our journey together is serving a purpose, and I so want to help any other family going through something similar. It's the worst nightmare. I have faith that Ethan can come through this and put all of these experiences to good use. I also have hope for the future, and for happiness for all of us. I also pray . . . . a lot!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
It' not your mama's prom . . . but not much different either.
Yep, that was MY senior prom back in 1982. Let me just say, it wasn't the highlight of my high school years. Nobody asked me, so I asked a guy I worked with. All I can remember is that his name was Steve, he wasn't a lot of fun, and he didn't bring me flowers. (That is now a long running joke, the whole flowers thing.) The best part of the evening was partying with all my friends at Pat O'Briens and at the Marriott. That was fun, and I'm glad I went.The next proms I went to were with my ex-husband, when I was a teacher at Northwest HS. For the first one, I had a great time seeing the kids enjoying themselves, etc. The second one, I was VERY pregnant, and just wanted to go home and get off my feet. I should also mention that my "date" to those two was actually less fun than the one I had in 1982. Not trying to be mean, just the truth.
So last night I went to the prom at my current high school. I really, seriously loved seeing those kids looking all dressed up, grown up, and having fun! They looked beautiful and handsome, and they danced like crazy people. They just went for it!!! There were other things that were quite different from any other prom I've attended before, and it said a lot to me about how the world has changed. It used to be that you HAD to have a date to go to the prom. Going with a group was ok to the other dances, but not prom. Now though, it was perfectly ok to go with a group, all girls, all boys, or mixed. I loved that! They had the right attitude to not miss out on the experience just because they didn't have a date. Bravo! Another difference, I have a couple of girls who are an openly lesbian couple. They had their nice dinner out, took their "couple" pictures, and had a wonderful time. Nobody whispered and talked badly about it. It was just them. The ability of the young to be more tolerant about at least some things, is comforting to me. Yes, they still have some areas of tolerance to work on, but there's progress. There are also some "mixed race" couples. That NEVER would have been accepted in New Orleans in 1982!! No freak out about it now. Bravo again! There was also the couple who came in the fantastic duct tape tuxedo and dress! (When I get an ok from him to put a picture on here, I'll post one.) He is an incredible artist, and it shows in the amazing creativity.
I suppose the final observation is that it was formal and informal; it was traditional and non-traditional. It was a great celebration. The students displayed their own unique identities in what they wore, what they did, and how they enjoyed themselves. It was wonderful to see, and I'm very glad I went. I needed the hope and happiness I saw there for a couple of hours. I'm not trying to over dramatize a simple prom, but I felt happy for them and with them when I left. I appreciate my students. They drive me crazy often, but they also give me hope.
Here is the duct tape tuxedo (complete with accessories) and prom dress! Amazing! All strips of duct tape.
Oh, and here's the other thing that hasn't changed about prom . . . .
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