“Speaking one’s mind once is more honorable than quoting a thousand men.” ― Mokokoma Mokhonoana
A thousand men did not say the following, but in fact, maybe they did. I wonder how my life parallels others. I can’t imagine very closely. We clearly were speaking our own minds.
Michael ended up with a level nine out of ten freakout this afternoon. Mason and I were picking him up early from school for an appointment. This breakdown was more traumatic than most, and they seem to be getting more intense in the last few weeks. We’re workin’ on it, though.
What I want to share here are a few quotable highlights AFTER the trauma. All of which jolted me to deep thought, ponderance, and a twist of sorrow.
As Mason and I are walking into his appointment, Mason grabs my hand and says, “Maybe I’m a magnet for darkness.” I assure him he is not a magnet for darkness. We open the appointment with his therapist with a quick overview of what has just happened and away they go. Mason was very quiet as he emerged from his play therapy session.
Tonight, as I have emerged from my fear and sorrow and am re-entering my body (after I cried for about an hour, ordered Chinese food I can’t necessarily afford, and vegged out mindlessly while the kids played video games), I say to those kids:
“Listen up, people, we have to figure out how to release these traumas, like the one today. We can’t keep them in our bodies. Let’s use Mason’s idea of writing our ideas down about how to process today’s trauma and our feelings about it. That way we each have our thoughts written down without interruption and each of us will get our voice heard.”
Mason loves the idea and goes first. Speaking out loud is not as easy for him as writing. So he writes something on the paper. Michael takes the paper to go next and then reads Mason’s writing out loud, “Let’s just sacrifice him.” We laugh. The tension breaks. It is a moment of truth and relief for all of us . . . totally ignoring the major hint of tragedy. Or truth. Both.
During this, Michael is speaking in a British accent (Michael talks almost constantly) and says something like, “Mummy, if you were pregnant with me and knew then what you know now about my different brain, I would seriously consider signing up for abortion.”
This isn’t quite going the way that I had hoped, but at least we’re all sitting together talking. We’re opening up the major wound that we had to endure this day, October 30, 2013. Darkness, sacrifice, and abortion are all words my children are speaking. I’m uncomfortable with this, yet it is what is being presented to me.
With humor and tragedy, I share my day with you. Because we’re not alone in this—you are not alone because I am over here talking through my life experiences with my kids. I can’t stop the intensity of these life experiences, but I can try to minimize them, and I can definitely work through them after they happen. And maybe you have to get through these things too.
Sent with love and support,