What matters

 A little over a week ago, I got together with fellow women at my favorite place and played a game. It's White Elephant meets the Hunger Games, everything hinges on a roll of the dice and how fast you can move to claim someone else's stuff. At one point, I had three things;  I walked away with one, but that was only because the owner declared it safe from swapping.

(It was a framed, hand-painted pic of a bird with a real feather incorporated in the piece. K declared that the universe wanted me to have it, so I was allowed to take it off the table.)

So there we were, rolling the oversized foam dice and seizing these same few items from one another over and over (the tinsel trailer, deer pong game and wine purse were the heavy favorites, but I was happy to see the oversized Goofy mug I brought made a couple passes around, too.)  I had the beer pong AND the wine purse in my possession at one point, but both eventually became someone else's booty....

....which was actually fine by me, because I had just gotten rid of four contractor bags worth of stuff, plus four boxes and barely made a dent in clear out. I could afford to not bring more stuff home. Plus, I had the awesome artwork, so that made me happy.

But, the young lady who won the wine purse came over and apologized after.  I laughed, and said she had nothing to apologize for (she really didn't), but she insisted on paying for one of my flights. After a little back and forth (because she really didn't have to do that), I finally said sure, why not?  The flight meant more to me than the wine bag, anyway.

I wandered way out of my way after to drop another gift off. I needed the drive. I needed the silence. I needed to see the holiday lights. Anymore I need time and space to process things....some of the things are in the here and now, and some of the things are way, way back in the past.  But it's all of a piece of some big puzzle I'm working on right now that has no boundaries or edges, just a whole lot of pieces that don't seem to fit together in any logical way. 

It's been a wet and rainy week. Another holiday spent alone, but not so bad since we were able to spend some time with friends ahead of the holiday. The boys are ok. And I think they will be okay. I mean eventually, altogether.

Because the stuff doesn't matter, was never really important or relevant.  My younger guy is creating his own timeline, making sense of his own world and asking me to help where he thinks I can (why?  I don't know--he has a better handle on a lot more than I do, but he's also been my otherworldly one who sees and hears and understands things the rest of us don't--or can't).

I don't want to put too much on him, but he's always been better connected to the universe than the rest of us. I wish I had a little of that. 

Too Many Thoughts

 I'm having trouble picking a topic. My head is all over the place.

Let's start with the present moment. I am in front of my tree, Younger to my immediate right, sprawled out and watching videos on his laptop. Elder is in the other room, watching one thing on TV and another thing on his laptop (trying not to turn myself inside out with all my angst here).  I took them both to iHop this am, and then made a side quest for younger to relive an early childhood moment or two, then off on a little road trip to get us all out of the house. 

Elder graduated.  He has his associate's degree, made dean's list, and now we need to figure out his "what next". (I've agreed with dad to give this all a rest this week)(Hasn't made the angst go away. I'm just not talking about it.) Younger is enjoying the quiet. I'm looking around at all the stuff that needs to get done and suffering task paralysis. 

Everything needs to get solved now, so nothing is getting done.  Feeling overwhelmed. Which is pretty much my steady-state.

I can't even enjoy the quiet.

I need to stop torturing myself. 

(Un)Masking

 NOT a COVD post.

Anyone familiar with autism is familiar with the term 'masking.'  Healthline here has a good summary.

Healthline says in a nutshell, "Masking is a complex and costly survival strategy for autistic people. It generally involves intentionally learning neurotypical behaviors and mimicking them in social situations."

Not for nothing, I had to figure out early how to cover my perceived crazy. I didn't have any language for any of this growing up; all I knew was that I was different and had to figure out a way to "not".

Not be different. 

It's been somewhat torturous watching elder, because he is me, in a lot of ways. The main difference between us is that he is out there with his differences, a brave sort of crazy. People who knew me from high school who know me now say I was a lot more like younger (we're twins now, so I wonder how much conflation of looks with personality there is). Younger is my stealth guy.  With his long hair and tie-dye shirts and jeans, he looks like any other kid his age. He walks around with his hood up if he's wearing a hoodie.

He has learned how to blend.

Elder, not so much.

And I'm a weird hybrid. In latter days, I accept me and if I am having an autistic day, I have my day and don't lose much sleep over it. But, it's taken me decades to get to this point.

My husband has called me various things, but iconoclast is the word he uses most.  I just looked up the definition and think it's the funniest juxtaposition of ideas this week. It's not like I set out to be the destroyer of norms or anything that interesting; if anything, I've been spending my whole life trying to shut off the screaming aura that seems to surround me and draw fire from folks who don't appreciate differences of any kind. 

I've spent a lifetime of learning the rules so I can beat everyone at the game. 

Lately, my life seems to have been a series of inflection points where I made quantum jumps in understanding how "normal" people function, but often those jumps came at a high premium; sometimes relationships fell, and other times my mental health faltered. I remember thinking that I'd be safe in an academic career until I realized academia was full of weirdos like me and its own kind of shark tank.  After a few false starts, I found myself in Corporate America with a lot more to learn about the millions of ways other people could be treacherous beings.

I remember evading a trap from a sharp/k by talking about myself in the third person. Technically, I didn't lie.  And it bought me enough time to plan an exit strategy and leave under the cover of darkness.

And there were other adventures and dangers, and each and every one was a learning experience, which I carefully filed away and stored for future reference. I can run a decision tree based on all my previous experiences faster than a supercomputer AND have people think I have my shit together. 

The truth is, it's all come at a cost. I've been careful to unmask around the boys, especially when anxiety is getting the better of me. They need to see that I understand what they are going through, that I live it, that I get it. 

I'm giving myself permission to unmask more regularly. I have more days behind me than in front of me, and I want to get life right in the time I have left. 

So.  I'll mask up when I have to. 

I'm getting a little more discriminating about what requires it. 

You Can Do BIG Things

 I have so much going on in my head right now. 

I'm still struggling with Elder.  That will be a forever thing, I guess.  I wonder if this pandemic has completely broken him. And I don't know what to do about it. 

One thing I know I won't do is let whatever that is get in Younger's way.  Which is kind of a struggle, because Younger is very conscious about eclipsing his brother, to the point where I can see he will start to get in the way of his own success.

Hubby tells us to take our arguing elsewhere. It's kind of hard when a) everything is an argument and b) Elder isn't going anywhere except within his very limited orbit. 

I still have the FOO stuff, but that will always be going on in the background to some extent. I'm largely putting that on ignore, because I don't have the energy for it. 

So Younger capped his marching band career this past week with a banquet.  We all had a good time, he with his bandmates, and me with a particularly awesome table of parents.  I remember our first two banquets wherein I didn't really know any of the parents with a couple exceptions, then two years ago wherein we were late getting there so sat at a table by ourselves in the the back.  This year was pretty cool. 

Even though we had a much smaller band, it was a lot of fun, and the speeches the student leaders gave were amusing, touching, and full of the usual teenage stuff.  And the kids each got a thoughtful remembrance of the season by the band director as awards were given out.

Hubby recorded G's moment, and I have watched a few times. It was memorable in that the band director (bless her) was looking to be encouraging, and her last line was to "Remember, you can do things."

Then the former director busted his shoes for his often telling him that G was out once he got his letter.  (That got laughs--anyone who remembers G two years ago remembers that about him). And then he went on to say, not directly, but if you listen, it's there--that he was grateful the staff saw he could do more than he, director, thought G could do. 

You see, this is the struggle--people think neither of my kids CAN, so they are given as little as possible to do. This is going to stand in both of their ways. Elder either believes he can't, or he doesn't want to, or he wants to get away with doing as little as possible. I can already see in G's job that the same thing is happening to him (but he doesn't want to tip that because he sees his easy ride as a good thing).

So this makes my struggle to get them both to that "gainful, full-time competitive employment" place really, really difficult. 

I don't know how to make moving forward matter to elder. 

I don't know how to keep that from spilling over into everyone else's capacity to manage.

All I want for Christmas is for him to have a spark of internal motivation. 

He is all about that fucking carrot. 

A Funny Thing Happened......

 So yesterday I was wildly social (for me).

I hosted a happy hour for my work group that I thought *might* attract a person or two for a half hour. Imagine my surprise when 6 people showed up, one stayed the original half hour (having other things to do), three more stayed an hour, and two more hung with me for over two hours. (Kinda awesome, and I think I made a friend, so yay)

Another work person has been asking me to crash her friend's weekly gathering for drinks and darts in his downstairs lair. Last night was the night; less than a mile from my house as the crow flies, I drove slowly to find his hidden house in the hills above my neighborhood. C met me in the driveway to direct me to the entrance at the back of the house. 

I swear, literal speakeasy and one of the coolest things ever with the coolest people ever. I brought a mix pack of my favorite brews from my favorite place and put money in the kitty for pizza and anything else I might consume (I was told I got the idea and am allowed to join them on the regular) (also yay).  I sat at the bar sharing adventures and company with C while others came and went, joined the conversation, played darts in the background, and generally was just old school hanging out and awesome at that.

So C was telling me about her one daughter who works in the IU who works in particular with kids with autism. We somehow got into talking about the holiday parade younger was in last week, and she mentioned one young man who she "could swear, was on the spectrum, not looking happy, and I called out to him and waved, and his face just lit up."

I mentioned G was in the parade and pulled up the picture I posted here the other day.  Her eyes popped. "Oh my God!  That's him!  That's the kid I waved at!"  Then she described how he looked, maybe scared and uncomfortable?  I laughed and pulled up a picture of G staring daggers at me from the parade at the end of the route.  "Did he look like this?"

"Yes!"

I laughed. "That's his pissed off face."

She's still a fan. 

But it is a small world, isn't it?

And a quick pic

 Because this moment was never even a thought back in the day. Proud to walk Senior Day with my Letterman x 2. 

Can't wait to see what you do next. 

Elder Rising

 Do I dare think we are turning a corner?

Having a tough time NOT channeling a certain ancestor with elder because man o man, just because I get the COVD impact doesn't mean I am patient about it. 

I struck a couple deals with him, so we are figuring out his next moves.  He's getting balled up in "rest of his life," and all I really want him to do is think about the next six months.  (I think he gets it?)

So we're converting some of his interests into real-life adventures, and maybe that's where I need to get creative. The universe is lending a hand here;  he got a call this evening to substitute for a bingo caller at one of his regular haunts tomorrow. And he's getting paid for it. He is beyond psyched. 

And he's taking a friend to the movies next week--first time in almost two years.

He's singing to himself.

I have a little time and space to work with him tomorrow on a few things, so we will make good use of that time. 

Meanwhile, younger doesn't need any help creating his own. I do wish, however, he would change his socks. 

A Bone To Pick

 OMG how many times have I been on the receiving end of someone having a bone to pick with me over this or that.

The problem with being the omega in the pack is that you do come to think that everything is your fault.  If you're lucky, you happen into a family of your creation who helps you to see that while you are accountable for what you do, you have little to no control over the narrative that others write for you (and expect you to fulfill).

Word to the wise:  you aren't responsible for that, either. 

Finding language to wrap around this is difficult.  I always felt that I was given short shrift, but I didn't have the words to advocate for myself. Sure, I had lots of words, but never a word in my own defense or on my own behalf. There were plenty of times I felt that someone was dead WRONG, but everyone else fell in line behind dead wrong, so I stayed silent.

Or people called me crazy. I realized that no matter what I said, it would be dismissed out of hand. 

The best thing about these situations is that they taught me how to walk away. 

And they taught me words to stick up for myself and for my kids. 

I'm thinking about another blog that is forming in my head: about the power of words and the sleight of hand; about how when words fail to back up actions, you wonder what else the talker is hiding. I was going to go there today, but the whole idea of being on the defensive one's whole life  is top of mind at the moment. 

I know that by my actions, I say an awful lot.

And sometimes that's better than knowing a whole lot of words. 

Enjoying The New Room

 So we finally broke down and built a deck, and we finally got around to putting a gate around the perimeter of the flat roof, thus giving me two new "rooms" to hang out in. The actual deck, I'm finding, is lower than where I want to be, thus I spend a lot more time outside my office upstairs (which is where I am right now, typing as the sun warms me in my little folding chair).

I'm enjoying the sound of the wind and the birds, and I'm finding this goes a long way to stemming the normal angst that comes with shorter days and less daylight.  The fact that I have been getting more sun is undoubtedly helping my equilibrium (which my elder kid upends on the daily).

I had a good week spending time with friends over coffee, drinks, oysters and whatnot. My friends keep me grounded and help me see the upsides to everything (including my current struggles with elder). (Big wind) I'm trying to figure out a few things and manage the house and the other things that require management.  I'm grateful beyond words that I can sit here and think things through and type it all out. I'm still struggling with the usual FOO stuff but that's not really top of mind at the moment;  right now I'm making sure younger gets settled into the winter programs he's in (throwing shade at me the whole time, mind you).Whatever he ends up doing, he'll be fine. Dad's spending time with elder this am, so hopefully he'll do a better job of communicating with him than I have.

(Fear screams when I try to talk to him. It's a bit disappointing for us both.)

It's a good day to sit outside and listen to the universe.  I'm grateful that I can while I get some other things done. 

Younger Cracks Me Up

 Merrily we roll along into winter sports.  G tries out for bowling.  He already has his Varsity letter, and he just loves it.  Now that he has a smartphone, he can take pictures of his scores and text them to me. 

They are pretty impressive. His average is easily in the 150s (this from my spiky, inconsistent kid once upon a time. No longer. He knows how to roll.) I ask him when I pick him up, "So are you on the team?"

"I'm not sure." This is his standard answer, whether he wants to evade the question altogether or is legit not sure.

When he get home, he yells in from the living room while I'm in the kitchen cooking dinner, "Hey mom, so pictures are tomorrow in the gym."

"For what?"

I can hear the eye roll from two rooms away. "BOWLING. I got the shirt and schedule today."

I stop what I'm doing.  Stick my head in the living room.  "Um.  I thought you said you weren't sure if you made the team."

He looks at me blankly. I continue.

"I'd say if you have the shirt, and the schedule, AND have to go for pictures, you're on the team. Am I right?"

My honor student's (!) face lights up.  "oh, YEAH!"

Yep.

Hiking Redux

 Had to drop elder off at work, and then needed to walk some things off (me and my big feelings). I found myself back at the park where I used to take the kids when they were small. Lots of memories here: Nic's class party in K, G looking up at a deer head on the wall and asking "What happened?" (to the rest of the deer). Numerous class trips through elementary school with both. Cub scouts--oh lordy, the campfires, the s'mores, the retired flags that came to their appropriate end. Dozens and dozens of trips of just us, up to the meadow to see "Dinkey," over to Creepy Pond and the spring house to count koi and turtles, over to the bird blind to see what was visiting the feeder, and of course over the Runaway Bridge to see if we saw any fish in the stream. 

Remembering how much easier it was to get the kids outside and sell them on a hike in the woods back in the day. 

Oh my.

Walking in the late fall sun, watching the colors, birds flying and feeding where they could find food, running into a guy who looked like Santa Claus, I thought I was clear of the big feelings until they caught up with me heading over to the pond. 

Thinking of the woman I took communion to today and wondering how I can help.

Still wondering how I can fix things I didn't break but feel responsible for.

Wrapping up my current sitch and looking forward.

The feelings are still too big but a little less daunting.

Deep breaths.

One step at a time. 

Angry Hiking

 So my guys tossed me out of the house. Maybe not so much a toss as a freeze.  In any case, the three of them cooked together and left me to my own devices. Elder and younger worked on one dish, elder soloed on another, and dad made another two, all for transport later to the feast.

In the meantime, out I went, pretty sure where I needed to go to shed some of my pent up....let's just call them BIG FEELINGS and leave it at that. I found myself at the head of Forbidden Drive and decided that was too peoply, so taking my walking sticks, I went the long way around the stables to a much quieter part of the trail.

AND...laid out everything in my head sotto voce while jabbing the terrain furiously with my walking stick as I went. It occurred to me that now I thoroughly understood every past-middle-age woman I've ever seen doing exactly the same thing out in the woods,  and really, it wasn't all that different from my hegiras into the woods post-dx with elder back in the day (minus the walking sticks--I didn't see the point of those at the time since it felt then that I was part mountain goat. But anyway.)

Then it got peoply. AND some of those people had dogs that were supposed to be on leads and weren't. Or, they didn't take up enough slack in their leads. Didn't matter. Just kept thrusting forward, jabbing the ground furiously as I went. An older man wearing shirt sleeves and a tie came out from behind a tree singing. It was such a totally random sight I nearly laughed out loud. 

I heard someone else talk about calories consumed and burned, and why does everyone make such a fuss over one day?

I heard someone else talk about horseback riding in Sonoma.

Conversations in other languages dopplered forward and back as I went along, furiously stabbing the ground as I went. (I was stabby.  This much is obvious.)

I was back at the car in just under 51 minutes, having hiked three miles.  And my head was more or less back on straight. I got home in time just to run back out to the store because my intrepid cooks were short on an ingredient. And so it went.

We enjoyed the evening with family, everyone happy to be there, making plans, remembering people, toasting all the things.  And we left with more food than we came with. 

It was a blast.

I think I need to do more hiking. Just a little less angry. 

Rein it all in

 So the last little while with younger has been awesome. I'm glad he's having a decent senior year. We're discovering that, among other things, he loves live theater. We took him to see Mandy Patinkin for his birthday two years ago (he brought a friend and they both loved it), and he was absolutely enthralled with Hamilton.

He's hooked. I see a trip to Broadway in his future. Or two. 

Elder will literally make me insane in the meantime. Weight is an unprecedented problem--unprecedented to the point where I need to take drastic action. Inaction means horrible consequences, not now, not next week, but at a time where he will beg me to fix all the things wrong with him and I will not be able to do a damn thing. 

Agency is a funny thing. I'm a little appalled at the choices, but assuming good choices means assuming all systems nominal, and....they are not. Because COVD. Because everyone's mental health took a hit, but the hit was harder here than with younger (who could literally give zero fucks, but that's just because he's him). I wanted to haul elder out of bed and scream at him this morning. Until, that is, I went into his room and saw him wrapped head to toe in his bedsheets, head tucked under pillow, partway in pillowcase.

My heart broke (again), and I tossed his comforter over his sleeping form and left the room. 

I listened to the birds, had my coffee and did the crossword puzzle. I willed myself to sit down and calm down. My fury, horror, shock and sadness will fix nothing. I'm not sure what to do. I can't ignore it. And realize that any fix will require my full engagement. It will also require him to decide that he needs to fix things, and without that commitment, nothing I do will make a damn bit of difference.

Agency. 

At what point does one deserve the right to destroy himself?  At what point do I pull the plug?  Is it even my plug to pull?

This kind of makes the sideshow going on in the background laughable. A certain FOO character is playing an obscure long game, in which the only winning move is to not play or engage. As if I have time, energy or inclination for whatever bullshit (and that's the only airtime THAT is getting).

Still doing the heavy lift of fixing myself. Had an incredibly fruitful session with R yesterday regarding 1985-1989. It's....a little amazing that things went on as long as they did. 

I feel as though if I can get a handle on all of this, it'll somehow help my elder problem. I think there is something there in that timeframe that will help me rein in my own visceral reactions to here and now and actually help elder figure out how to go forward from here, how to dig out.  Unfortunately, he is my match in mulishness, so I need to think of ways to appeal to his sense of self preservation (which appears to be all but absent).

It's all of a piece, and I am piecing it all together. 

But this is really, really hard.....

And Just Like That, It's Over...

 I have stuff going on with elder, but I will tackle that later, just want to get down a few lines about yesterday...

First off, Little Mister speaking his truth did have consequences, but they were all to the good. I'm not gonna bullet point or laundry list anything because the whole day was tiny treasures that awaited unwrapping. And any and all pain from Saturday was blown out the water with joys great and small that ran through the day. 

As you can imagine, discussion raged over younger's truth bomb, and we still haven't settled anything. This will be an ongoing conversation for a long time. 

(I'm getting balled up in the process of writing, so just gonna stop trying to make this perfect and say the things)

Last day. Truck loads, kids mill, parents set up a snack table with all the goodie bags for the kids and pass out pom-poms to all the folks who will be in the stands later. I anxiously wait for hubby, who is supposed to ride the bus with me.  He's dropping a salty (as ever) elder at work, who is saltier for having been inconvenienced by his brother's competition and he wanted to go, why didn't we tell him so he could ask for a day off?

(Because, N you have zero interest in band, it will be cold, you will be uncomfortable and will ask to leave as soon as you are done with the concession stand.  Hard no. Go work. You'll have a better time.)

Hubby arrives about 5 minutes before we push off.  G sees a friend's mom and stops to say hello and pet her dog. He's walking around in his Letterman's jacket for the first (and maybe last) time and jokes that he's dressed up like a bully. (Just about every villain, it seems, in just about every kid movie is wearing a Letterman jacket, he pointed out. But he's quick to note that he's just dressed this way, and not a bully.)

Bus is a chatter pretty much til we get to Hershey. When we're lining up for rest rooms, hubby jokes that I am large and in charge ("You are always running stuff," he said, somewhat awed, but probably really wondering why he didn't see this person in his house on the daily.  He does, but the difference is my own kids don't listen. But I digress.)

It's chilly, cloudy, and there's a wind. The front ensemble stop and group hug every so often, half in bonding and half to keep from freezing up too stiff to play. The other groups warm up. Everyone is all business the last hour and change leading up to stepping off. Everyone has a job, and each one is hard at work. 

The other chaperone, another senior mom, and I are dismissed from pit crew duty to watch from the stands.  And this is kinda cool--this is, after all, for better or for worse, their last show. We head off to the stands. Our small and mighty band has a small and mighty army of parents in the stands to support them. Hubby sets up his tripod and I get dispensation from the band president that he is officially our videographer, and he is recording for educational purposes. 

And miraculously, the wind tunnel that is the arena suddenly becomes still. Our band takes the field....and is just wonderful.  They play their best show. Today is a good day to have a best show.  They have all shown up for work and have done their jobs. 

The wind picked up again after they left the field.  They stop and get their group picture and I hold coats (chaperone and I left the stands immediately after they started breaking down for the next band). We run back to the buses so the color guard can get some clothes on and the winds can put their instruments away and hurry back in time for the college exhibition band.  

And G goes on retreat. For the first and last time. 

And when they finally call our school for second place, it's clear it's his first rodeo. He completed his salute a half step behind everyone else. But as the tallest one in the party, they hand him the large, heavy plaque they won for their place.  And they pick up two other awards for percussion and visuals.

They lost first place by .07 of a point. 

But they walked out knowing they killed it. Despite a tornado, despite subsequent displacement and schedule shuffling, they remained cheerful, hardworking, and underneath it all, tough as nails. 

Also?  They killed it. 

We needled Younger a little, asking if he was still bored.  He just grinned broadly and joined his bandmates at the concession and had some bad stadium fries that tasted awesome after a long day. And he led his band mates in a Miley Cyrus song or two on the way home on the bus. 

It's over now. But I'm glad it happened. 

The Wages of Speaking One's Truth

 When someone speaks their truth, you know that it's going to cause a lot of discomfort for everyone else. 

I had to tell younger not to apologize for making me cry yesterday.

You see where this is going. 

Writ large, inclusion in general ed had not had some of the desired outcomes for either kid. While it has yielded employment for both, we are struggling with completing elder's ultimate goal of competitive full time employment. My younger guy has engaged on a more challenging academic path than he would have had he not had the opportunities of access to the same education as his peers.

But.  Both bear the scars of the social piece: neither has attained the "one good friend." 

That bore out in a very public way yesterday. 

Final gathering for band. Senior speeches. G and the other "different" band member sat together with their folks, mostly because they weren't included with the larger bunch.  G didn't prepare a speech: he was going without a script, he told me meaningfully.

If you have read any of this blog to this point, you know how much capital I put into the script. 

So, G, goes dead center chronology-wise. The kids before talk about how band is boring, but they have all these friends, etc.  G goes up and says band is boring, and mom made him do it because he's not allowed to sit in front of screens all the time. 

You legit could have heard a pin drop. Even tone-deaf elder was quietly cringing in his seat.

Because G laid out there his truth;  he wasn't sitting with the other kids--he was sitting with his family. One could (and would) argue that this is his 'choice'; however, like any other group, this one has its own cliques, and he sits outside. 

And he was calling them on it. 

It will be interesting to see what repercussions there will be for G speaking his truth. Today is finals; today he is meant to go on retreat to receive whatever award his band receives, but I wonder now if that will happen, because he spoke his truth.

I broke down in tears.  He apologized for that.

I told him he should never apologize for speaking his truth. 

But he should recognize that his truth will have costs.

And he needs to learn that now. 

Ways forward

 I think I made some pretty important steps forward tonight. Particularly with my elder guy. 

I just hope it sticks. 

Taking the fork in the road

 I've spent a lot of time spinning wheels.  Wringing hands. Worrying. Fretting.  And anything involving making a decision? Forget it. I'd cover my eyes and blindly point because I didn't trust myself to make the right choice.

The gift of age is that you're able to look back and see what worked, and what didn't. The pointing didn't. Making a decision on a job based on a commute....didn't. Trusting the school administration to place your fifth grader in an appropriate classroom....didn't. Maintaining relationships that continually broke your heart...didn't.

Thus, it is easier to choose things that work, because the scars of the things that didn't although healed, are reminders that shit didn't work and DON'T DO THAT.

Fortunately, God is my copilot and has made it their business to nudge, prod, drop stuff in my lap because they have my faith, so delivery in packages big and small does not escape my notice. And the delivery of such goods ensures that I do the needful to get where I or my kids need to go. 

Another change is afoot, and I welcome it. Elder needs my attention, and I can give it.  He doesn't like this kind of attention, because it forces him forward.  He will get older, even if he digs his heels in and refuses to grow up. I had hoped I would be able to help him gain employment in one place, but now we are looking at something else. The goal is *a* full time job that may help him decide where he wants to go and how he wants to get there. 

My way forward could ostensibly broaden our world. It's an opportunity. Possibly for all of us. 

Praying as usual. As always. There will always be mistakes and lessons learned, but you always have to take that first step.

And hope God is there to toss you a parachute.

Kicking and screaming

 Hubby took younger to bowling yesterday morning, leaving me with wondering what to do with myself.  He had a point; we are coming to the end of band season and long days (until indoor percussion starts), and the other piece of what to do with elder--who is fighting his own demons, and depression is kicking his ass. 

Hubby is doing a stellar job in getting us organized, so I knew exactly where to find the learner's permit paperwork.  We've been sitting on this for well over a year for both kids, but we finally got the medical portion filled out for both of them, and it was time to execute before the validity expires.

Elder lumbered down stairs and took up his usual location in the man cave (all furniture in there has N-shaped indentation).  I gave him a little while of peace before telling him to get dressed.

"What's going on?" he asked.  It's the question he always asks whenever we ask him to do something or tell him he needs to do something NOW.

I didn't show those cards until we were in the car and moving. I never would have gotten him into the car if I told him we were going to the DMV.  He complained, sure, but he knew no amount of complaining was going to deter me, so we settled into a chat about work and work hours.  He needs to look for a full time job or figure out if he wants to transfer to a 4-year college after getting his associates.  He doesn't want to think about any of that right now, which is part of our problem. 

The DMV is busy, but not packed. I'm always amazed when I come here with N and the 'helpful' person who directs traffic is quick to tell me "You will need to come back."  This happened three times before, and the first time left me prepared for the subsequent times.  "OH NO," I said, pulling out passport, birth certificate, ss card and directing Nic to pull out his state ID, "You can't tell me that we don't have enough ID AND that I need two pieces of mail. This is LITERALLY all the ID we have."  (we were allowed to take a number, yay)

(An aside: it's pretty clear N has extra, and that if I weren't there, N would have turned around and come out to the car and told me "Not today, mom."  Which is part of the reason why I can't die.)

As we waited, I told N, "Look, we can do whatever you want after. You don't need to work til 6, so we have all afternoon."  He looked less harassed and happy to think about something he wanted to do. 

And I sat there reflecting that his life has gotten so, so small. Nineteen months ago, his trajectory was undeniable:  He had three part-time jobs, one of which was a competitive internship he won, he sat at the top of his class in his business program at the vo-tech and enjoyed a pretty full and independent life--including taking public transit and Lyft wherever he needed to go. 

Then, COVD shut it all down. 

Developmentally, we lost years.

If I type out what the present looks like, I'm probably going to cry. 

So making it to here, this point, in the DMV with my son on this Saturday morning, is a huge deal.

When our number is called, I go to the counter with him, because he has errors in his documentation that are literally as old as he is and have never been urgent enough to correct--or, in the grand scheme of things, we haven't gotten there because there were always more urgent pieces of red tape to attend to. And again, I talk, because I understand what needs to be said to get where we need to go. Both boys always attend what I say in these situations, which is why both of them are fairly good self advocates.  That they are both gifted mimics is something of a mixed blessing. 

I need to withdraw for N to do his knowledge test.  He hasn't recently been studying (I caught him short this morning), so he got about 3/4 of the way through before they stopped the test.  Which isn't bad, because that tells me with a little work, he can pass next time. But the important thing here is that we did the important legwork, and next time will be quicker. (and I could see that he had a lot of company on not passing that test this morning).

While disappointed, he was also a little relieved, and now we can do some things he liked to do. We walked over to a favorite store and picked up some Stock's pound cake; we made a couple stops to pick up some things G needed (at N's behest--he always thinks of his brother if it gets him something he wants). But, he is thoughtful, and I'm realizing that giving him space and getting him outside in the world even for a little while makes his shrunken world a little broader and lighter. 

Over lunch, we have a quiet chat about nothing and everything. He smiles at me across the table. I'm seeing a little of the old N. He's understanding the why; inertia is a horrible thing, and getting back into a groove is going to be a lot of work. 

I managed to get him walking 2 1/2 miles. The goal today is three. 

We will regain lost ground. I have some decisions to make about his brother, but his brother is better positioned to make and advocate for his own choices.  I'm here not so much to bend stuff to my will so much as to help them create their own wills and bend things to their own trajectories. 

It's a delicate dance. I'm so used to running and directing all the things with elder because I had to; younger, on the other hand, has been running his own show for years because he never needed me to tell him what he needed; he just needed to be shown how to ask. 

N being N needs to learn everything the hard way because he's my kid, and that's the way I learned everything I know. 

Hard way or no, he will get there. It's just a matter of not letting him throw up his hands and give up.

Anything he has ever wanted to do, though, he's always figured out a way to do it. 

Gonna be a looooooong night.....

 My existential angst is likely as bad as it's going to get. That's the good news.

The bad news is fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, what was I thinking?

So once upon a time there was this mom, who had a little guy whom she knew right out of the box was different. She didn't know how or why, just the fact that he was going to need a lot more than your average baby.

She wasn't wrong. This baby needed to be physically connected to her at all times. He nursed to the point of throwing up. She ended up doing a lot of things she never thought she'd do because she desperately needed sleep and needed to think about how she was going to get through a day.

She learned why on a sunny August day--what her sweet little guy who struggled so much with literally everything had a name--autism.  She spent subsequent weeks walking the woods and wailing, always at carefully timed intervals because she couldn't show or share her grief.  She vowed no more kids.

Then God laughed. Number two was on his way.

More tears.  More scrambling. Getting services in place, questioning, second guessing, people telling her what they thought she was doing wrong (they all had lists), and lo and behold, there were now two, and the new one was quietly observant, almost as if he knew what was going on and why he was here.

His presence was a respite--a gift.

But, it wasn't long before he had his own set of differentials and they became obvious to the world.  So mom realized she had two fronts of a battle she never expected to be fighting, but here we are, let's get it done. 

But it wasn't a battle--it was a war. 

And the battles were pretty much endless.

Starting with general education. Maybe also ending there, I'm not sure, since this story is still being written. 

Anyway, the older guy.  So. I had the best of intentions--the goal was always competitive full time employment. But to get there, he needed to run the gauntlet of a society that doesn't take kindly to differences of any kind. He withstood all kinds of failures of the adults around him to help him navigate bullying, the adults who led by example that it was okay to mess with the autistic kid and then gaslight him by telling him and his mother that his classmates were only trying to "help" him.

Fuck you.

Anyway. Middle school and early high school are pretty much the same story until I call a meeting and tell the team "Look, he does NOT want to be alone at lunch. Please help him!" So they do, and they have a group of girls who look upon him as a project of sorts, so he has people to sit with. 

But these relationships do not extend outside of school. 

He wants to take the senior trip; he gets a couple jobs and pays his own way. His friends play "let's pretend N  isn't here. "  He laughs. But even four years later, the laughter is uncertain. It's easier to think that the joke was in fun and not personal. 

Still. He goes forward. He walks with his class. He goes to community college and votech. He gets a competitive internship. 

Then, COVD hits. His jobs shut down. So does his way forward.

We're trying to restart.  We're trying to stop the backslide and move forward again. But it's feeling pretty bleak right now. Even though he was invited to join Phi Beta Kappa, he doesn't feel worthy.  Graduation is in a month. Then what?

I fought hard, for a long time, expecting, perhaps wrongly, that we'd get him where he needs to go. 

Failure was never an option.

But.  What if that's all there is?

(We all know it will be my fault, because that's just the way it is.)

New World Waiting

 The marching band had a side gig yesterday: A Halloween parade.

Not just any Halloween parade, though--one that went through a neighborhood devastated by EF2 force winds two months ago today. And I honestly didn't recognize the neighborhood in which we had done some house hunting two decades ago.  And looking around, I can see that the residents still don't, either. 

Once crowned with a luxurious growth of deciduous trees, the entire neighborhood has been stripped bare. Condemned houses sit side by side with houses seemingly untouched. Climate change incarnate.  The randomness of the carnage is at best unnerving. 

The band marched down from the high school and mustered with a fire truck and a couple police vehicles. When they launched into the cadence, then Carry On, the closer from their show, people who weren't already outside with their kids came to their doors, phones in hand. Kids joined in the parade, in costume, as did the neighbors, old, young, dog walkers, or people who just wanted to be a part of the festivities. 

By the time the band hit the last stretch of their route, people had pulled up chairs to the street, watching and clapping. Children in costumes flanked both sides and trailed behind. 

It was a good day. 

But there is still a lot of recovery ahead for this community. And there are a lot of hands and hearts that are making the healing happen. 

Grateful. 

Reeling in the Years

 I'm the spontaneous one, mostly because if I think too long on anything, I would do nothing.

Reading the paper yesterday morning, I discovered one of hubby's favorite bands was playing at a venue in town. I promptly downloaded an app and got tickets for last night's show. I legit didn't realize that the world would be ending AND we'd be driving through Temple's campus right before a basketball game.

Needless to say, it took a lot longer to get to the venue than anticipated. We won't speak of the parking other than to say we bookmarked the place we found for next time. 

(a whole flock of starlings did a fly by my bedroom window just now--so close and so many I could hear wingbeats through the closed window)

We cursed, splashed, and fought the wind (and lost an umbrella) to the venue, masked up, and went in. We were in time for the opening act, same as last year, and I closed my eyes and listened while people continued to stream in (late, because parking, weather, and Temple basketball). We sought food when the lights went up, forfeiting our dinner ahead of the concert to Basketball traffic. Fortunately, there were cheesesteak eggrolls to have with my lager.  They were the best things ever--no sauce like hunger, as the saying goes.

We head back to our seats to find a portly gentleman occupying one of them. He was quite put out that we showed up.  His friends around us put on quite a show, which led us to thinking that one of the gifts of age and COVD is that what once was an interruption or inconvenience is now part of the entertainment. 

Steely Dan took the stage with an uneventful opening number. Kid Charlemagne, my husband's favorite, was up next, just in time for some seat drama right in front of us.  Last time we saw Steely Dan two years ago, a fight broke out a seat or two over during the same number.

He laughed. What else could you do?

Gaucho came out the year I turned 13, and the music was everywhere. I was just 'learning' music at that time, and Gaucho was a big part of my education. 

I say this now because I came by my fandom here honestly; the music was one of my first discretionary tracks of my life. And as such, I can't hear the music without going to other times; randomly, I see my husband in my head when we first started dating (I joke that it wasn't love at first sight--it took about a half dozen times to get there), and the memory caught me by surprise. There were others, but this one sticks with me. And it turns out, as with all things, there was a reason.

I'm sitting here now in my pjs, coffee next to me, listening to birds, seeing blue skies outside, and taking in the whole of my last few weeks, and our last few decades. A insisted on taking younger bowling this am, and in general has been nudging in on what had been 'my' territory--time with the boys.  And only in sitting here now that I realize that this is now 'his' time.  He recognizes things in both boys, consciously or not, that he saw/sees in himself, and he is infinitely better equipped than I am to handle some of the challenges we are facing at the moment. 

As per usual, I'm standing too close to see clearly; A sees the bigger picture.

It's past time to let him lead.  And it's my turn to take notes.

We've Just hit 5 PM here

 Opened a St Dymphna from my favorite brewery.  My go to when every thing else seems in doubt.

Not a bad day. Had a good conversation about potential opportunities and had a carrot waved my way in my current sitch.  I'm not thinking too hard on any of it, but had some good conversations nevertheless.

Workwise, not a bad day, but I seldom have those.  It's everything else.

I'm grateful things aren't worse; I'm not sure how I would fare.  It could be that the worst things already happened, but I think that view is at best optimistic.

Listening to the wind.  The skies are angry. Younger is downstairs processing something. His brother is hiding out in the mancave. I'm re-thinking every time I open my mouth.

How do you give hope to someone who has none?

How can you go forward?

I don't know how to help.  Best to keep quiet until I figure it out.

Aligning the Planets

 Good session with R; got a lot of good ideas and thoughts to plan, roadmap and do all the things.  Need to bounce out and do a doctor appointment about the sore throat that wouldn't go away in about an hour and a half.  I am watching and hoping that a certain person stops commenting on a certain piece so I can get out of here in time. 

Still unbraiding my own trauma from elder's and that's a thing. Had a few thoughts on how to go forward with that. I need a couple approvals from others, so it might go, it might not.

Younger is fine. He's singing to himself, thus in a good mood. 

There's a lot of my own stuff I need to get past in order to help my guys move forward. Younger is in a good place.  He likes himself. The power of self cannot be denied. Meanwhile, my other one is traumatized by years of bullying, ridicule and humiliation. This is what society does to those who do not conform. And if it wasn't public school, it would have been other places. Although all things being equal, those oases we found often existed outside of our township. It's no accident that elder's employers (and younger's for that matter) don't live here. 

I lived my own version of this.  I'm healing from it. Now I have to help mine navigate theirs.

I won't lie. It hurts. 

Trauma

 So it goes.  I'm finally straightening myself out after decades of trying to vanish or otherwise make myself as small or take up as little space as possible. I've spent a life time trying to make myself invisible, except that someone like me doesn't have that capacity (and yeah, I just figured that out).

It seems FOO realizes what I'm up to and doesn't know how to deal with it. Predictably, heads are going into the sand if not up asses, but neither of these things is my problem. I have bigger issues, like dragging elder kicking and screaming into adulthood and making sure younger is keeping up with his studies.  Although all things being equal, younger has second honors despite his challenging course load.

I need to reconsider what next year will look like for him. He and I need a sit down. 

Part of elder's problem is trauma, and another part autism, and another part the insanity COVD has wreaked on his life that up until 18 months ago was going full steam ahead. Everything screeched to a halt and began to slide backwards. I'm not sure we're done the backslide, yet. 

Meanwhile, younger, always in elder's shade, is growing in his own right and creating his own shade.  Some of which he throws at random. I'm including both kids in my conversations about my own hard work of making myself whole. This means throwing light into a lot of dark and dirty corners. And now that they are both adults, they can make their own minds up about what to do with what I share. 

There's a lot I don't share. I don't think they can handle it. 

There's a lot I talk to R about. I'll have more things to share with him this week. I spend a lot of time sitting with grief. This is necessary; I ignored her for too long, and at my peril. Attention must be paid if I am ever going to heal. 

But this also means putting people on ignore. Also necessary and part of the healing process. I don't know that there will ever be a time I can re-engage. I'm thinking never sounds okay. And I know how sad that sounds. But everything now is measured by what I can handle. I've been strong a long time, which is a trauma response. Allowing myself to crumble and break is a careful dance of timing.  In keeping myself whole in the face of other people's sledgehammers, I've managed to wall up all kinds of crap. I need to break so I can let it all out. 

My kids need me whole. And I need to raze myself to the ground so I can rebuild. 

It's not too late. I've been working on this a long time. But I'm finally seeing light at the end of the tunnel. 

Majority

 I now have two kids over the age of 18. Two adult children.

I've been sitting with this a little while. It feels like just last week I could contain them both on my lap. Physically, either of them could pick me up now. But since we have the extra stuff, it's not like I can throw up my hands and say "Yay!" if for no other reason that I can't die anytime soon. 

So I'm doing all the health stuff, physicals, tests that need doing, looking into a sore throat that's persisted for three weeks, trying to figure out who I still need to call to schedule something with. I'm keeping a list, so over the next few days, I hope to knock it all out.

A friend passed this past week, another warrior mom who devoted her life to making things better for other people. It's no accident that my last memory of her was up at a place my family loved, talking for hours in the med shed. She didn't chase me out, sensing probably that I needed to unload with someone who gets it. I don't even remember what we talked about, except it was an easy conversation, and there were lots of spaces for silence, and I was allowed to just be there. And that in it of itself was a great comfort. 

Just had a half waking dream where I was spending time with her--it could have simply been a sun-drenched memory, or perhaps I was talking to her. I don't know. All I know is that she leaves behind a lot of people who are going to miss her. 

Kathy Baas, I remember you.

Hauling my broken self along

 So, a couple more things happened the last little while....

Had a job interview I utterly slayed. Completely.  Even if I don't get it, I don't care.  I rocked the interview. And everyone on the call knows I did.

Younger had his senior recognition....day.  Our stadium has reopened post Ida, but daylight use only, so senior recognition night turned into day. It's ok. He looks utterly badass on his banner. 

Elder is finally finding his groove.  COVD set him back, but two of his three jobs are back online. He graduates from community college this December. We're still figuring out next steps. We'll get there. Maybe when he's 30. Or 40.

The FOO remains on hiatus. I removed Facebook from my phone because I just need to NOT right now. If the narrative is that I'm sick, let's just leave it there. I know I've not been this well in like, my whole life. Like, ever. Not that I don't mourn--I do. Daily. Sometimes hourly.  But I need to choose wellness because my kids depend on it. But old habits die hard.

And....there's always the drive to get the last word.  I see one keep driving home how wonderful her child is and there's an itemized list. I think I've seen this list before, and it turns out, that list was published a week earlier. You know, just in case anyone missed it. I try my best to suppress my urges to blare from the mountaintops all the hardships my kids have faced, but I know no one cares, and I know what they've been living, and so does God, so that's enough for me. 

And I alternate between heady elation and absolute despair. I see elder's peers  speeding past him into their futures. I see younger's fearless badassery and wish his lot in life were better. But I see the two of them with their heads together, and I know they have something I never had growing up--they have each other. They have each other's backs. They are fiercely loyal to one another.  This was something hubby and I built without meaning to, but I'm glad we did. 

They have each other. 

At least we did that much. 

Not Invited

 Had another moment just now; texting a former co-worker, finding out a bunch of them are going to hang out and I wasn't invited.

Context:  just had a job interview I nailed. If I don't get the job, I wasn't meant to. Signed off feeling GOOD. One with the universe and all that. This past week and change was filled with chats and texts with some of my former coworkers who want me to come back and in general, I felt loved.

And elder and I gave a guest lecture in Reading earlier in the week; we had a great day together, topped with younger getting in the car from school, and the two of them chatting, elder asking younger to do character voices (younger could have a future as voice talent). I pulled into  the parking lot where we had appointments, and watched them walk off together, heads close, backpacks on opposing shoulders, bosom buddies in conspiritual conversation.

That gave me pause. I waited a lifetime for each of them to have that ONE GOOD FRIEND, and they had that all along. 

They have D, the friend they share, who fits into their schema.  There is no third wheel. 

Honestly? (looping back to the drinks) I think it hurt more not to be asked than anything. I am choosy about who I want to drink with, anyway, let alone spend hours in conversation with. I can count on one hand how many people outside of my household I am even remotely interested in doing that with.

Still. It's all about being asked.

But, rather than give that power over me, I'll finish reading the memoir that Nic was gifted. The Secret Apartment by Tom Garvey. It's really good. Check it out. 

Sorting out all the things

 "Sometimes I want to break you/

And bring you to your knees...."

A line from a song that my first serious boyfriend referred to as our song.  I called him on that line.  He laughingly dismissed me.

And then I dismissed him.

I'm one of the lucky ones.

Lucky in that I prefer to be alone and satisfied with my own company than to be with an abuser.

Sooooo many layers to that statement.....

Your relationships early on influence the way they will go forward. Once I rued the fact that I wasn't, like one sibling, a collector--people friends with literally a life time.  My friendships generally have a finite lifespan, partly because I lose patience with people and partly because if you hurt me, you are dead to me.

It's not a perfect science, but I'm not, either.

I'm okay to be alone in a crowd.  If I don't have anyone to talk to, I enjoy people watching.  Sometimes I will insert myself, and more often, I won't.

And sometimes getting in a word edgewise is too much work.

Ten years ago today I did something that influenced my  current professional life for the better.  I stepped into a role left void and it turned out, I was most excellently suited for it.

I'm thinking that from a career standpoint, perhaps I am a collector of sorts. I do have my peeps going back a while now, whose company I enjoy and seek out. 

I will never be an SVP anywhere, but I don't care. I like my little backwater. I like the life I created for myself and my boys. Now the next big step will be to help them both build a life they themselves will be happy to inhabit. 

Aftermath

 So we live now in a federal disaster area. Elder and I accidentally ended up on a road heavy hit and were gobsmacked by the damage.  As a community, we are traumatized, and I can't begin to imagine the depth and breadth of the trauma of those living in the wake. It's wrenching.  

Cleanup operations continue. Those who can are pitching in. It's a lot, but it's getting cleaned up.

But still. This. Is mind-blowing.  And it won't be the last. It's a lot more humid these days. The world is indeed heating up at a hell of a clip.

Those of a biblical mind will see things here. It kinda does feel like the end of the world.

Well, &*#$

 So, the last 24 hours has been.....something.

My younger guy had his last first day of school.

Then stuff got canceled because weather.

Things escalated quickly.

I had planned to meet my work people in town for dinner.  All the sudden, I had meetings crowd my last 2 hours of my work day, guaranteeing that I was ass in chair until 5 pm.

Things I supposed work out the way they do for a reason. The boys tried to shoo me out, but I felt strongly that I needed to be close to home. I felt a little wimpy bailing on my peeps, but at the same time, the feeling was strong.

Less than a half hour later, we were, the four of us, in the basement.  Power left about 20 minutes in. Elder's anxiety amped up.  Dad tried to tend his newts while fielding work calls with his headlamp on. We ventured upstairs about 45 minutes later, and the kids immediately started demanding what's for dinner. 

Uuuuuuh.  Hm. We can't cook. We can't open the fridge or freezer. And everyone is in the same boat. Or would be. Foolishly, we all got into the SUV and took off in the pouring rain. 

By now other alarms were going off.  We figured out a way to a Wawa (fortunately everywhere) and grabbed dinner on the go. We made our way back home, only to find that the way we came was blocked by a tree that had fallen and splintered in the street.

Dad and I both did the calculus that we could have, at any time, been under it. 

We spoke nothing of it. 

After dinner, G, dad and I played scrabble by flashlight, then called it an early bed time.

What we didn't know until later was that tornados ripped up quite a bit of our town, and what didn't get ripped up got flooded.

I wanna cry.

I've never lived anything like this. Until today.

On the Fly

 I need a minute.

All the things going on in the world is a bit much. The political stuff on its own is more than enough, but the fact that it's raining in Greenland and Antartica (now in winter FGS) has me a little freaked.  

Elder said to me the other day, "it sucks that the world is going to end in my lifetime." 

He showed up in my room as I was having a lie-in under the weighted blanket. I guess he figured it was a good time to let me know what was on his mind. 

We ended up talking about all kinds of things, mostly me explaining the ramifications of all the things happening in the world right now. And he's paying attention, because he had plenty of his own input.

Other stuff:  this and the negative committee in my head kept me up the better part of the night the other night. The best output of that was that I had a few things dispute the negative committee over the course of yesterday and some readjusting I can do because of that to help my family.

Other stuff:  dinner with hubby's work folks on Saturday was fun. We had arranged to meet up in Lambertville, and ended up walking across the bridge to New Hope for dinner instead. Beautiful night to eat outdoors and connect with folks. 

Entering the meteorological season called band. Younger is on mallets and rocking his instrument. Band director asked the section leader whether he had sold younger short (he did) (he has plenty of company). He sold his first program ad yesterday, and is stopping in our local pizzeria to see if he can sell another.  I'll buy an ad for the family (why not, younger's last year in band. I'll download and save it for him)

It's younger's last year. He's a senior. 

How the hell did that happen?

(The same way I woke up this year and everyone around me had gotten old....including me.....)

Hitting Pause

 I think I need a moment to rethink a few things.

My priorities have a weird way of getting upended and reshuffled.  And more often than not, my life falls somewhat lopsided, because I appropriate the wrong amount of importance to whatever I have on my proverbial plate.

It's easy enough to do, right?  Urgent is urgent, and whatever makes the most noise gets the most juice. Squeaky wheel and all that.

Except.....when the universe reminds of you of your place, wherever and whatever that may look like. Sometimes egos are bruised, but if that's all that hurts, you're pretty damned lucky. It's time to see beyond that and what is important, as opposed to urgent.

I hate the phone, and I hate phone calls. It bugs me not to be able to see the other person. But today I returned a call that not only went really, really well, it also has me thinking of next steps and other possibilities.

Reminders not to let my world shrink to the size of work

Reminders that the most important people in my life are the ones I live with, and they would have a tougher time without me than anyone else. 

Reminders that I have a whole tribe of people who think I am awesome. 

Whatever comes next, I think I can handle it.

We Went to a Garden Party...

I'm good about ranting and raving about the stuff that goes sideways, so I should be equally good about reporting the good stuff.  And this thing I've been sitting with goes to the good....

So, we were invited to a graduation party in the neighborhood.

That in it of itself is a singular event.

So, being thus, we accepted, with great angst on my part. Last time we had this happen, three years ago, it was a painful experience for my entire family. We accepted because, well, one does (and hubby said so); we left early-ish because I had gotten so wrapped up with chatting with the hired help that I didn't notice that elder was having a rough time.

It was fine; we wrapped up the kids, ordered them pizza, and took a sunset ride in the date car (because any time with the top down is a good way to blow off whatever is weighing you down).

So I look askance at this invite, but consider the advantages:  it's literally next door and we can up and go easily if it's not working for any of us.

I accept.  The kids are (amazingly enough) looking forward to it.  They both shower and dress, then look at the clock and out the window, noting that people are starting to show up.  Dad's not home yet, but that's fine, he can join us when he can.

We show up. I quickly assess that this is not an unfriendly crowd.  The honoree actually greets my guys with a hug. I'm asked about the dog and pull up pictures of her on my phone. The kids stake out the food table and set themselves up. I join them at a table they've selected, me on one side, they on the other.

It's a round table, and we have it to ourselves. At one point, I tell the kids that they are free to bail once their dad shows up.

But then something amazing happens. Neighbors we hadn't talked to in a long time sat down with us and started chatting with the boys. Our elderly neighbor across the street sat down with us when they left, and yet another pair of neighbors joined us at our table.

The boys stuck around a chatted for a while, then both went off to mingle. G sat by the music, occasionally calling out to the hosts that they had great musical taste and asked them to share their playlist with him. N regaled everyone with his bingo stories. And they hung out, pretty much talking to everyone. 

It was a lovely evening in every sense of the word. 

And the boys left when I left. 

I feel like we are slowly inching forward.

It was a Fine Two Hours....

 Good weekend. Art show with a friend and date night with hubby on Friday.  Saturday the boys spent the day with dad and their best friend. I stayed behind and cleared out the downstairs and caught up on all the laundry.

I have to say, it all looks pretty good. 

Then friend's mom texts me and tells me she is going to kidnap me and we'll hang out with her neighbors. YAY. Fortunately I had hit the brewery and was ready. 

Felt incredibly chuffed.  Even more so that it seemed like we found the quadruped a home.

Oh meet up was great!  Their dog bonded with our dog and the husband loved her, was so excited to take her on the spot.  My guy got choked up and bid goodbye, and off we went.

And the two of us felt amazing!  WOW! We did the right thing! We did GOOD. And we did it overwhelmed by the rest of the things! YAY US!  We went out to breakfast to celebrate.  The cloudy day couldn't have been brighter.....

(you know what's coming....)

Woman calls. We needed to come get the dog NOW.  

We should have let her stew and marinate, but she made it sound dire.  And hubby and I are both programmed to JUMP. We drive 40 minutes back to get her and.....well, it wasn't that bad, she just didn't want to chance it.

I was pissed. I didn't want to waste a minute more of my time on this person, but she kept going on and on and hubby kept engaging. Finally, I just said "Penny, up."  Got her in. Shut the door. We're done, here.

Black cloud and dog accompany us home. Elder goes after his little brother, triggered by the fact that the dog is in fact NOT gone.

So I called the rescue this am and put us on the wait list to surrender.  We tried. We really did. 

But the universe just isn't working this way.

You can do hard things

 My mantra lately. Elder's, too. 

He's done complaining how I make him do things, which is a step in the right direction. I feel him. Lately I feel like I have to do a lot of things I'd rather not do, too. I do find a lot of things hard, at least getting started, anyway. 

But once I'm going, I'm good. 

Starting over (again) is hard, but I am a little more accepting of the status quo than I've been. I'm lucky. I can work. I need to tell the negative committee in my head to sit down and shut up. But they've been there forever, and they are a rowdy bunch, especially when I begin to doubt myself. Man, the crowd does go wild.....

I don't think it's an accident that I'm beginning again as my older guy is beginning, too. Actually, his time at community college is coming to an end, and we need to figure out what he's going to do next.  Is he going to transfer?  Is he going to try to get a full time gig?

"I'm frozen with indecision, mom," is often his rejoinder. 

But we need to start figuring this stuff out. He's plugging along with his summer classes, and I am plugging along with my self-study. My friends cheer me on, sending me texts and calling from time to time to check on me. 

Twenty-five years ago, I was in a similar place. I had waited for the doors to open again, and doors did open--but not the ones I had expected.  And it all worked out. I made new friends and learned new things. 

And I'm not too old to do it again. 

And in so doing, maybe I can help Elder find his way forward....

Duct Tape

 So when the world is running down, you make the best of what's still around.....

Had a good weekend; met up with the family at Blue Mountain on Friday night and pretty much shut the place down; Saturday took G to the Barn Sale (yay, back to normal, sort of) and then off to Nic's elevator friend's for brunch. G tried bacon. And managed his work schedule and rescheduling over the phone while we were there. And then went to work. I say yay.

Yesterday: mass, then off to get beer at my favorite place (and food from across the street) and off to my brother in law's to watch the Italy-England final in the UEFA Cup (Italy won. YAY.) Lots of family time, good for us all. 

THIS MORNING.....THE MIGHTY HUNTRESS CAUGHT A BUNNY.

OMG. Seriously. We make fun of the quadruped because she makes herself out to be a Mighty Huntress (stance, legs astride, ears forward, hackles up), but is scared of everything (like the time she yiped and launched herself sideways into me when a mourning dove startled her at close range).

So prey du jour was a baby rabbit. It's almost always a rabbit. Rarely something else, but if it's within range (i.e. her leash length), she might take a half-hearted lunge at a bird, a squirrel or a chipmunk. She will always, without fail, go berserk at the sight or smell of a rabbit regardless of distance. This am, I didn't see the baby bunny until we were on top of it. It dashed away, and then came right back to the dog, who reached down and grabbed it. The bunny squealed. I screamed. Penny yelped, dropping the bunny, who scrambled off to safety.

The dog, it should be noted, is quite chuffed about her conquest.

Cracks

 Change remains the only constant.

I feel like I have spent my entire life trying to be okay. I woke up and found myself in the middle of my sixth decade, and it is something of a rude shock. 

My colleague just laughingly told me I sound like an 80 year old. 

Elder will age even if he never grows up. 

Also, the dog is still here. 

The bird is not. 

My week's been spent trying to get the new IT to work (it sorta does; I made it happen, but it's far from perfect). I miss the comfort of the familiar. I speak bravely of this as a learning experience.

Alas, I don't feel brave. I feel lots of things, but brave isn't one of them. 

Life is too short and brutal to be balled up the way I am, but as I read back through my ad hoc journaling through the years, themes remain the same. I've been battling depression, anxiety and PTSD for years. I mask the three incredibly well. Some days I am better at masking the autism than others.  Each thing has developed its own compartment in my psyche.  As long as I can keep all the things contained in each respective compartment, I'm in fine shape.

The last 16 or so months I've leaned on my peeps for affirmation. It gets lonely, and when things get lonely, all the things start banging down the doors to be let out. So I send cheery texts, set up impromptu teams calls, and in short spurts, I am able to outsprint all the things.

I've been doing sprints. Maybe this new sprint will help.

I've survived worse.

Shards

 Everything lately has sharp edges.

I'm doing hard things, which would be enough on its own, but that I'm doing it while depressed and suffering bouts of PTSD is something miraculous.

The problem, though, is that this particular broken toy is simply running out. Of energy. Of patience.

Of time. 

I'm stripped of the network that kept me afloat the last 15 or so months. It's not anyone's fault. Well, it kind of is, but things happen for a reason, and maybe I was too comfortable, anyway. And I'm finding that no one would really get the *why* behind what I'm feeling.  I find lately it's easy to just blame myself and my insanity and call it a day. 

The struggle is real. 

I don't even know where to start. 

Maybe with the asshole down the street. Who said "There goes the retarded dog and its owner." Same dad to the kid who was in the car who said the same thing about the mom and her two retards.

Ten years ago. 

Last week. 

It's all of a piece to me because the visceral response is the same. 

One of many reasons I take the provisional quadruped out of the neighborhood to walk. But I still have to run a gauntlet to get out of the neighborhood. 

My whole life I have been accused by different people at different times that I invite the trouble, that I did something to deserve it/provoke it/make it happen, when all I'm trying to do is live my life and mind my own business. 

That it's still happening....and that I even *care*... is chewing away at me. 

I'm a breaker of things, a maker of relationships, a taker of chances, but really all I want to do right now is to hide under my weighted blanket and stay there. 

Everything weighs on me. 

Especially my kids. 

Also the dog. 

Who needs a new home. 

When God Tosses You a Parachute, You Jump

 So, the endgame to the work sitch.....

...which was becoming untenable. In the space of 72 business hours, I had a call from a headhunter, the hiring manager set up an interview, an interview happened, and an offer was made. 

Which doesn't commonly happen in my line of work. 

While no situation is perfect, I have more days behind me than ahead of me. I can't afford to wait for things to be better to be happy. And if that means changing my situation, situation, be changed.

This week has been the calmest, just tying up loose ends and transitioning projects. And saying see ya later. Because there's no such thing in my business as goodbye. 

And that's a good thing. 

Just don't piss anybody off. 

Divergent

 Struggling with some stuff, so going to focus on better things....

Like my younger guy. 

He is in many ways his brother's opposite.  Activities were in some ways less an overt struggle. Part of my hegira with big brother was all about retracing our steps, autopsying old wounds, celebrating the stuff that went right and to some extent shrugging off all the stuff that went sideways.

(Also it made me go back and read blogs from 10 years ago. It's a small miracle that I am not in jail.)

My younger is yin to his brother's yang; he has grown up in his brother's shade and to some extent, his protection. Looking back, though, the road he has forged is uniquely his own.

We did a lot of the usual; soccer, tee-ball, cub scouts, always with me there in some capacity as coach or leader. We tried the local pops one summer (I was given a tee-shirt and allowed to be my son's 'aide'), and while that wasn't something he would go back to, the music would endure. He was in orchestra for a spell in elementary, and band through elementary and middle school. (I do have a snippet of him jamming out on "All About the Bass" at once concert--it was clear he enjoyed playing that.) He did chorus through middle school.

High school, however, was all about marching band.  Despite the rough start (thinking back to the phone conversations I had with a very frustrated band director), G settled in and did his bit parts.  (I always argue fruitlessly that both boys do better with more to do. But anyway.) I had gotten Tier I clearances so became the 'steady ender' on the band bus to and from away games and competitions.  G never sits anywhere near me but is happy that I am on his bus and he knows I'm there if he needs anything. (he never does.)

Officially, he was allowed to be 'done' once he got his varsity letter and jacket.  But I think he can't resist one more year with me on the bus with him--and it wouldn't happen any other way.  So I renew my clearances so I can ride with him one more year. 

So the time I shared with younger as he grew up certainly looked a lot different from the time I shared with his brother. Not better or worse--just different.

Today, he poses for his senior portraits. I see him waving at me from the oval of his elementary school as I left him after his last race for education.

I see his brother waving as he walks away during middle school, off on a new adventure.

I see his brother meet my eyes from the football field the day he walked with his class.

I see them both as they were.

And I see them both wave goodbye to that.

The Measure of the Man

 It's been an interesting little while. 

My younger guy just gave me a schooling of where his head is. Over the weekend, we had back to back parties, something that never happens. We left the first early to attend his and his brother's best friend's birthday party.

The schooling happened over interactions. He was all about me and my company for the first one, but the second party, he initiated conversation with a bunch of peers he had never met before.  They quickly found common ground in music.

Which shows me he can. When he wants to. 

Elder followed suit, and had a little more difficulty finding his groove, although he eventually got there. 

Magic. I've been waiting their whole lives for this. 

We chased this with a family gathering Sunday--first in almost a year and a half. That felt awesome. 

Elder and I took off on a road trip early Monday am. He woke me at 5:30 am. He said he had a hard time getting to sleep the night before--it was like Christmas.  He had his music on and I listened to the radio as urban landscapes gave way to farms and open space. And we talked about a lot of things. I learned a lot about the last 10 years from his perspective. And he learned a lot of the same time frame from my point of view. 

That to me was the best part of the trip--how he realized that those teachers who gave him the toughest time helped him the most. And those who didn't--particularly that fifth grade teacher--deserve a particular place in hell for the things done under their watch with their permission. 

But I also learned that even though some of those teachers gave him a hard time for the sake of trying to break him (all that stupid business with his Phillies hat springs to mind), he understood what was happening, if not why.  And that he can call it into question now, that he can identify all the things he's ever been gaslit over, tells me that he will be okay.

People have hurt him. But the people who love him fiercely remind him of his worth. 

And he knows his worth. 

And he helped remind me of mine. 

The Feather in the Snow

 I've been sitting with this a little while now, but since today is the anniversary of Nugget coming back to me (and also the anniversary of Nugget's unfortunate encounter with a moving ceiling fan a year previous), now seems as good a time as any to write about it. 

We still have the dog. No word yet on any prospective families. Likely we are stuck with one another. 

(she is well cared for, but bored out of her mind. A large spread that would allow her to chase rabbits to her heart's content would be a good fit. Suburbia is not.)

(The Mighty Huntress deserves better.)

(That's ironic, btw)

My heart still has a Nugget-shaped hole in it. I had taken to stalking some cockatiel pages, only to find that a couple of my favorite birds have died in the last few weeks. 

But, I need to write about the feather. 

We had a ton of snow last winter. I had pretty much given up Nugget for lost immediately (even though in my head a nice old lady found him, and they made each other their bosom companions). There was finality in that war whoop and wind-borne flight over the house and out of sight. But I found myself poking around in the plowed snow that abutted the corner of the block of his last known location.  I don't know why--I just thought there might be something, a clue, proof that he was there. 

In March, just as the last of the snow melted away, I saw something in the tracks of melted snow in the street. It was a single white primary covert feather.

All of Nugget's primary coverts were white. And it was the right size. 

I pocketed the feather and kept walking. Thinking about my bird, whether this was just happenstance or the universe telling me he was ok. I didn't see any other trace, just that single feather. 

So odd that I mourn that bird greater than the people I've lost. Or perhaps not, given that he helped mend my broken heart when it needed it most. 

I hope the bird is somewhere mending someone else's heart. He will always have a place in mine. 

 Trying to remind myself there's a reason the universe tells you no.

It's really easy to get caught up in what people think of you and use that value system to assess your worth. And it's equally easy to get sucked into the spiral of identity and "I must be worthless if they say I am" and all that insanity.  Many a suicide is predicated on this falsehood.

So I got a no today. In the weirdest way. It led to a really uncomfortable conversation that ended abruptly.

Reminding myself that I can't place the wrong people in charge of assessing my worth. It nearly got away from me today. 

Need to reassess my priorities and figure out what gets my time. It's not like I have a whole lot of it to waste.

The Kids Are All Right

 It's been a pretty good weekend.

Elder collected his diploma; now we need to focus on his associates, which we hope he will collect in December. And maybe look for a four-year transfer in the spring?  I don't know. All I know is that I had one health testing form from the school district in my messaging instead of two.  He's out. He's done. 

He's really, really done. 

I spent Friday afternoon with one of my oldest friends, lunch, a long walk, and a great conversation.  It was a gorgeous day, and a good day to be out in the convertible. Did my head and heart a world of good.  Took a leisurely drive up and back on the backroads with the top down and my Mrs. Howell sunhat and shades. Lunch took forever, but that was fine; neither of us had other places to be.  And the sound of the river and scent of wisteria as we strolled and talked along the canal will be with me a long time. 

And made a heckin good dinner for me and hubby when I came home--Maryland crab cakes and vegetable spring rolls. Spring rolls are my new favorite jam. And they are tasty as heck.

Saturday I helped run a clinic--I think we only had one no show, but it was stressful and a little crazy. One of the worst things about having a sitch where you depend every one to do their part is just that--everyone needs to do their part, and you have no control over that. 

(and are there worse things than getting pelted with questions while you are trying to manage the backend stuff before a live audience? Of course. But in the moment, it sucks.)

Hubby took the kids to Costco, then we washed the dog and all the dog's stuff.  Vacuumed. The dog nearly killed me on the walk after a couple of times.  No luck yet on rehoming her. She's a sweet girl, but she needs more than we can give her. I'm hoping we have better luck soon. 

Sunday I took her for a two hour, 3 1/2 hour walk. Wore her right out. I can't do that every day, but it gives me an idea of what she needs, because she is getting stronger and fitter every day. She needs to hunt. She needs to run (and she got off the leash with hubby the other night--we know now that she is fast). And she really can't do either where we live.

That's only part of the problem, but it's a significant part of it.

Did more adulting stuff. Took the boys out for a bit. Did more when we got home. Boys changed their beds, did laundry, got ready for the week. 

And now the hard part of getting my own head on straight. 

It's a beautiful day. Might get the dog out for another couple of miles. 

Lurching Forward

 I have a list of nonpreferred activities I need to get through before the end of the day. I'm looking at the list I jotted down in my calendar, and I'm down to the last 3.  

I should have done this days ago, but...I get in my own way.

I'm not the only one. 

Just hopped off a call with elder's college advisor. As I mentioned previously, the diploma is collected this Friday.  And I find we are down to 5 classes standing between elder and his first college degree.

I say first assuming there will be others. But we don't know that.

Yet.

Now we are all getting the amped anxiety he seems to get every May--it coincides with the end of school. I'm finding we need structure. And a plan. 

I'll help him with those just as soon as my own to-do list is done. 

Lessons learned

 My overarching thought to mother's day this year: I learned to stand up to bullies because my kids depended on that while they were growing up. 

And in standing up for them, they taught me to stand up for myself. 

Learning. It never ends. 

The End of An Error

 I just signed elder's exit NOREP.

This after his most productive day in 15 months. 

One did not precede or follow the other; it was just timing. Elder legit adulted in ways I haven't seen in a bit: taking a final (passing with an 88, the class with a high B); setting up and meeting appointments; planning his day, then his week, then going to work.  Seems like such a small thing, but it weighs on me. This is the stuff he needs to do on the regular, and like all journeys, it starts with one step. 

I have mixed feelings about the NOREP; I see missed and squandered opportunities; I see the pieces and shards of all the things that went sideways, blew up or imploded.  But most of all I see the wide, blind path forward. I tell him with certainty that he may not grow up but he will get older, regardless.  All the stuff he was too busy to think about until now is crowding his field of vision. 

It's a lot, anyway. 

He collects his diploma in a week. 

I have mixed feelings about that, too. 

I remind myself that we did the best we could without a map. And I will be holding my breath as I wait for him to step into his future. 

I kind of hope I don't die waiting. 

Broken

 A weekend away lends perspective to many things.

I fully understand where elder is coming from in a way  I didn't before. The pandemic has crushed us all just a little bit differently. We are all coping the best we can, but there are things we just can't compensate for.  And it's hurting us all as a collective.

We homed a rescue recently, and we will need to rehome her. She is sweet, friendly (to a point, as friendly as a hound can be, anyway).  BUT, so many mismatches, from an energy standpoint, to what rooms she'll go into (or not), walking is a challenge, because she'd rather hunt rabbits, and overall, she's a country dog.

I'm so sad for her.  I'm a little sad for us, too. 

And I'm still crying over the bird. 

Or maybe I'm crying for all of us. Stress over time becomes trauma, and to some extent, we are all traumatized.

But each day she gets stronger, healthier, and these are good things.  She deserves to be happier, and we are trying to get her there. She does deserve to be happy. Maybe in time we could have healed her from her own trauma. But we are having a tough time healing ourselves from our own. 

Waiting for all the things to play out. 

Relics

 We're getting things ready for change around here. I'll update when it materializes.

In the meantime, there's stuff to do. I'm going through clothes, closets, trying to figure out what to donate, what's still getting worn, what's too big or too small...this is definitely not a preferred activity. 

The clearing out has been happening in stages. I get overwhelmed sometimes by the sheer volume of stuff that needs to be gone through.  My last epic purge was the garage; I packed the entire back of our van with our alley of broken dreams--all the stuff we optimistically purchased in hopes of our kids picking up or wanting to do x, y, and z.

I remember how hard that was.

Harder is going through things that younger might not be interested in NOW, but he'll be looking for it in 6 months, a year, a decade...

And sorting out the stuff that I think needs to be saved: the hoodie from cross country track with his last name emblazoned across the back (which elder hasn't worn since that season; I'm wearing it, now). Younger has jackets from his activities with his name and year on them (neither of which he wears--I do, because they are there and someone needs to wear them). Which leads me to a little reflection on how we parents remember things versus how our kids remember things.

I remember pride that my boys were a part of something that merited their names going on it.

They remember mom pushing them to do something that took them away from their screens.

But when I'm gone, what will they remember?

Maybe the bird. Maybe the class trips, or the classroom visitations. Maybe scouts. Maybe track, or PREP. Maybe the guest lectures. Or our impromptu road trips.

I hope, that when they are both reflecting on their lives that have gone by, that they have no regrets, that they gave everything they ever wanted their best shot. 

I don't necessarily want either of them to change the world; I just want them to make their worlds a good place for them to live in. 

Thankful, the Board/Bored Life and Other Flotsam

 This blog is likely to go off on a few tangents; in other words, business as usual.

Settling down from a loud bang and its aftershocks. I made a couple trips up to my favorite place so I could hang at another favorite place on Saturday; another socially distanced beer tasting among my peeps with the boys in tow hanging out with their friend. Hubby joined us a little later on. It's been a very long time since I've felt at home with all and every level of conversation--as a group, we broke out into our own little tangents, and came back together again, to reform another small break out of more tangents, and so forth and so on. We watched the sky darken and stars come out. Conversation ebbed and flowed. The boys ordered pizza and walked to go pick it up. 

Such a wonderful taste of normal in a year that's been anything but. 

Yesterday was back to our COVD hole; dinner apart from our family, hopefully for the last time (one shot down as a household, one to go).  I think we had collective disappointment, but at least we had Saturday.

And I don't always have to bring beer, but I am happy to.

And then I had a quiet chuckle as an invite to apply for a board chair came through my email. I actually considered it for a hot minute.  Then I remembered I got tossed off the last few boards I sat on, so why do I want to do that again?  (Isn't the definition on insanity doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting a different result?)

Moving on. 

So, elder's liver panel came back clean, but I am sweating that his DNA test is taking so long to come back. We were supposed to get results today (the rest of us have ours), but his got pushed out another week with an ETD of next Monday (and there was a caveat that there could be another week on top of that).  I'm trying not to read too much into what this might or might not mean, but I am a little....concerned.

And hubby and I both did some autism screening tests yesterday. His scores were high, but mine were higher. 

In other words, neither test told either of us anything we didn't already know. 

Younger got his first paycheck on Saturday, so that was cool. He is happy to be a working man. 

Just keeping on. And hoping for the best.