"I hope you get the help you need" Part 1

That's what a relative said to me a few months ago. And I've been chewing on that thought ever since.

I've been in therapy for four years. I recently lost the therapist who has been helping me work through decades of emotional wreckage. And that comment nicely frames it all up in a way few things could.

My boys are transition age now, meaning that they are at a point where we need to figure out what happens next, how they are going to become self-sufficient, how they are both going to be capable of gainful, full-time, competitive employment--the ultimate goal my two very different young men share. My primary job has been figuring out how to make that happen.

Our experience, our way to this particular moment, has been fraught with all kinds of challenges.  I was told, way, way back, when my boys were in preschool and early elementary, that they need to be included in general education. I didn't really grok WHY, I just pushed hard to make it happen.

What I learned was that the WHY was because of expectations. My 'behaviorally challenged' elder was that way first because of his difficulties in communicating in the spoken word, compounded by his sensory challenges, which were once legion. My Greek chorus, my support, my village, got behind me to help me figure this out. And eventually, elder was able to find his own words and language to get what he needed to be successful in the classroom.

But that was not without challenges--specifically, the bullying that began around third grade and culminated with adult-led isolation, exclusion with his fifth grade trip (documented here). That manifested in sixth through ninth grade as eating disorders among other "co-morbid conditions that go with autism."

We're still recovering from that damage.

Hubby and I didn't realize at the time, but we were already doing everything we could do to countermand the damage of the outside world for both kids. We've been a tight knit family, our core of four--we did everything together. And more importantly, the message we imparted to our boys was that they matter, they were not how other people treated them, and they were enough.  We provided a safe place, whether that place was home, or out in the world. They were with us, a part of us, and they were enough.

This is important, because I didn't realize I was giving my kids something I never had.

I was the outlier. The scape goat. The one everyone blamed everything on. And I eventually began to believe I deserved it. That I was as awful as they said I was. I didn't deserve love. I deserved whatever shit the universe had to dish out because, well, I deserved it.

And I believed it until I met the man who would become my husband. Who changed everything.

And between us, we created this awesome thing, where we were both greater as a team. The sum of us was something multiplied.

And we were able to impart this to our kids.

What a gift. But they will need this, because the world does not expect much of either of them. Or at least that's the message I've gotten in great and small ways over the years.

Elder now holds three jobs, attends community college and votech--this is the kid who was never expected to hold a job. We're trying to figure out younger's way forward. And he will surprise us all, because he always does in his own quiet way.

Mental health is a thing. Bullied people tend to either internalize their (ill) treatment or boil over into sometimes wildly socially inappropriate behavior. People are generally quick to assign blame to the bullied, that they a) somehow brought it upon themselves and b) deserve it.

Do you see a pattern?

And if the bullied stand up for themselves or (god forbid) treat their offenders as they have been treated, they are told that they are either over sensitive or need help.

That happened to me.

I'm still working my way through the decades that led to that moment.

I am hoping my boys will have less to work through.

Into the Woods

Weekends are a challenge.

If there are no activities or employment planned, the boys spend a lot of time immersed in their screens.

"You don't know what it's like to be a teenager in the 21st century, mom," Elder tells me with an eyeroll.

He's right. Back in the stone ages when I was a teenager, I spent a lot of my time on my bike, riding through whatever woods I could find in my city environs (Pennypack's bike trail was a frequent route, taking me out to the country line), or just taking in the urban sights in the grittier neighborhoods.

I never knew exactly where I was going; I had a pretty good sense of direction and trusted that the road would take me interesting places.

Which sometimes got a lot more interesting than I bargained for.

So, thirty-mumble years later, we loaded up our bikes, thinking we'd take a little ride, visit my friend's brewery, and maybe go out to dinner later.

We looked at the route on a map. Elder was doubtful that we'd be able to do it in the timeline I framed out. And I mistook his doubt/reasonable judgment for recalcitrance. And what resulted was an adventure.

It began innocently enough. We took a little detour to see my friend and sample some beer while younger showed elder around the fort, the sensory area my friends built in their tap room. When we got to the trail, Elder wanted to go right.  I went left. Hubby and I didn't blink when the asphalt gave way to rugged terrain.

Nor did we blink as the rugged trail stretched ahead, sometime necessitating us to get off our bikes and walk.  Younger was encouraged ahead by dogs he met on the trail. And annoyed that I didn't pull out my phone to record the moments.  I heard a quail--briefly, in the meadow--the first time since my summers in Rio Grande, NJ decades ago. Then, elder yelling silenced him. Poor bird.

We glided along the causeway, admiring the twilight over the reservoir, watching people casting their fishing lines into the dusk. The red trail gave way to blue. And then the trail got tougher.

And then darkness fell faster than we could peddle. We dismounted, pulled out our phones, turned on the flashlights, and found ourselves in the night woods.  Nighthawks and screech owls provided a steady counterpoint to our footsteps in the woods. To our left, we watched the opposite shoreline recede into darkness.

Elder fretted about being locked in the park. Younger wondered aloud if we would ever get back to our car. I wondered to myself if hubby would divorce me for not thinking this outing through.

I discovered later that he was as delighted as I was for the unexpected adventure.  Because it was pretty damned incredible being out there in the woods, both of us reminded of our adventures in our pre-kid days, hiking, fishing and birding in Long Island, North Carolina, Nova Scotia, and dozens of times and places in between. The stars stood out in brilliant relief against the midnight blue sky.  A lightning bug lit our way in the woods.

In a previous life, Elder would have been an explorer. He studied the park map confidently and assured us he knew the quickest way back to the car. And armed with his directions, we moved forward, first along a country road, then back into the meadows, across a field, and a loon called, giving us a little extra boost and direction.

The meadow gave way to a field, then the park entrance again. And the car awaited us a few hundred yards beyond that.  It was well after 10 by the time we were on our way home.

Elder promises this will never happen again.

But that was eight hours they were off screens. :)

Onward

There's been no shortage of upending and disruption the last few months.

To the good:
Elder took on his third paid position last month, this time as front office intern at the VoTech. He's averaging about 30 hours a week among the three positions. The next big hurdle will be to get him to start driving.

He's also presenting; this month, in addition to co-presenting with me at the transition conference at State College, he'll also be participating in a panel discussion on why students need to lead their own IEP meetings.

Still finding our footing with younger. I'm learning a lot of important things about him, including what will make him happy and help him lead a fulfilling life.

Dad and I are still works in progress. I'm finding the more we discover about our sons, the more we discover about ourselves.

And it's all good.

Life goes on

Wow, it's been a while.  A few updates:

Elder, the one we thought wouldn't work or go to college is doing both. He began a volunteer position as a sophomore in high school that turned into a paying position his junior year;  and that happened because he won a paying job elsewhere first.

He's been at one place nearly 3 years and the other a year and a half.

He walked with his class in June, and is going to Votech and community college currently for business and math. And he's getting around by himself with Lyft and public transit.

Younger's transition to high school has been less traumatic than middle school. He just finished his first season with marching band and is going out for the bowling team next week.

We're still struggling in the friends department. They will eventually find their people, but it's kind of hard to watch them struggle until that happens.

And....reading back over the arc of the years, I am grateful for where we are, because our problems are good ones to have ones I never dreamed we would experience.

All good things.

Learning to Fly

So, the disappearance of supports comes at a time where elder takes flight. He works two jobs now, each gained through his own volition and abilities. He will co-present with me next week at a conference (At age 17 is already an experienced guest lecturer and presenter). He held his own as a school event last night. His peers were kind, over the kind of social anxiety that he is now just learning to have.

He's behind socially. He's always been.

That said, he's blown the windows, doors, and roof out of every expectation ever had of him. He's in uncharted territory. Which is awesome and terrifying.

We're not at the summit, yet, but we can take a moment and enjoy the view....

Dawn of the 6th Decade

By my own reckoning, I shouldn't be sitting here.

I should have been dead dozens of times.

Yet, still here. God's not done with me yet. My kids are finally on the verge of independence, a place I never thought they'd get to. Elder starts his second job on my 50th birthday.  With a little guidance, he'll get through all the necessary hoops.  But I couldn't have planned any of the things that have happened for him in the last 6 months.

We've just been hanging in there. Doing the best we can. And I expect the coming days and years will be more of the same.

Putting myself back together

SO. I feel like the universe is asking me to pay attention to this stuff. Sometimes I feel like a bird flying against a building because all I see is the blue sky and not that it's just a reflection...I want the blue sky and I keep getting the glass.