So. Something happened.
I already committed this to my private journal, so no need to belabor here. Suffice it to say, I am mourning, and I am masking.
I haven’t had the need in three years, and necessity compels me to do it now.
I’ve forgotten how uncomfortable it feels, yet I’m somehow better than ever at doing it. Maybe because I am building in breaks to take it off, idk.
I no longer feel safe.
What a privilege it was to feel safe.
This is what I’m calling this year, the sunset of my sixth decade, a year I never dreamed in a million years that I’d hit—it’s here, now.
I’m closing the end of my second year in my doctoral program by submitting my draft prospectus. Next comes approval and movement toward the proposal; then IRB, then God help me, I hope I can get people to talk to me.
I’m not there yet, but I’m a lot closer than I was two years ago.
I don’t know what comes next. Just trusting the process and that this is exactly where I need to be right now.
I’m sick. My voice isn’t working. That’s never a good thing. In a previous life, I must have been a prey animal, because the amount of anxiety sickness brings is beyond stupid.
It’s really of a piece. Maybe this was as good as it was going to get. Now to get ready for the pancake. Which sounds a lot better than it is.
The weather has been gorgeous, and all I can do is enjoy it through the window.
The magnitude of what happened yesterday is just beginning to catch up.
My kid did what no one expected him to do.
And he did it better than I did (GPA .5 better than mine) and in the same timeframe as his peers.
And he has his brother talking about when it’s his turn (not if. WHEN).
He’s working out the what next part. This may take a while, but that’s okay—even he was surprised at how quickly he did it.
Damn. This is a lot.
My younger guy graduated from my alma mater today.
Lots to figure out, but that’s a tomorrow problem.
Mr. Spiky Cognitive Profile
Mr. ADHD
Mr. Space Cookie
My slow processor. The one they couldn’t say for certain if he had TBI at birth or not.
The one they said probably wouldn’t be able to do academic work…..
….is graduating with his same-age peers with a higher GPA than I had.
(I have no excuse)
Of course, this means nothing if he isn’t able to get a job because he can’t pass the interview process. Or….a million other things. The grief of the things that may never happen for my guys is real.
But I will not let grief take away the joy of the things that somehow do happen.
Keep looking for the bluebirds, rainbows, and silver linings.
My accidental bird. We were his fourth home. He was 25 when we picked him up from a friend at the brewery last April. I knew the clock was ticking, but whatever time he had, we were going to make it good.
He’s the only bird since Paulie who would allow skritches, but like Paulie, he was flightless, so put up with it til he launched himself off my lap, letting me know he was done.
Today I took a moment while I was cleaning the bird room. He hung out with me as long as he felt like it. I gave him skritches. I didn’t intuit an ending.
An hour or so later, Gary was trying to pick a play out of him, and I tried to rescue him. He launched himself as he has dozens of times, but this time, he landed wrong, and I knew as soon as he did that it was bad. I scooped him up quickly (cursing myself, how could I miss him?) and held him close. And he closed his eyes and was gone.
His little face was peaceful. I sat with him for over an hour, talking to him and giving him skritches.
He was such a good boy.
