The Rock

March 22, 2013
Since my last posting, a lot has transpired.  I've directed a very successful play and my younger son has performed in another one.  Life has been hectic but mostly good.

Unfortunately, not all good.

My older son was told to leave the place he'd been living (with family).  They changed the locks.  The reason:  he'd stolen a credit card from them and used it a few times.  Luckily, the amount wasn't terribly high, but that doesn't matter.  The trust was gone.  Though I wasn't there, I'm told he was very remorseful and promised to pay back all that was owed.  

When given this news, at first, I had that same old familiar feeling of devastation, like I'd been punched in the gut by a heavyweight champion.

But then, surprisingly, something changed inside me.  Instead of falling apart myself, I was able to remain calm, even helpful. I actually consoled the person to whom my son had broken trust and I explained that this was the way his illness is.  This person didn't really understand what Bipolar was until this happened.  Our conversation became more about what Bipolar people choose to do when untreated and less about my son's transgression.  I feel like I actually informed this person and it was understood... moreover, it was accepted.  Something I never thought would happen.

I don't know where my son is at this point.  He randomly posts things on Facebook (yes, we are still "Friends" on Facebook).  But where he's sleeping I do not know.

What I do know is that I am stronger than I thought.  I didn't crumble when I heard about my son's latest episode.  I was the rock that held things together this time.

I was able to use it as a teachable moment for someone who had yet to acknowledge that my son indeed has a mental illness.  While I am still worried for my son's welfare, I do not lie awake each night in terror.  Do I think about him everyday?  Absolutely.  But do I let his choices affect my life with my partner and younger son? No. No, I don't.

Prescription: Down Time in Foreign Tongues

January 29, 2013

The other day my son had a voice recital.  I was actually dreading it because I thought it would be three hours hearing other people's kids for just three minutes of hearing my own.  To top it off, the songs would be sung in foreign languages.  Who needs that on a Sunday afternoon?  Especially when I had papers to grade and shopping to do.

But I went anyway.  I went to hear my son and I went to support his friends.  And I went because I knew I should.

Thankfully, I went because what I discovered was that sitting there listening to twenty four talented voices gave me a gift I never expected.  That recital forced me to stop and listen.  Be in the moment.  Take in what's around me and let go of everything else.

I was forced to stop.  To listen.  To be still.  To let go.

I needed that.  It was like a forced time out.  And I left there different.  Proud, of course, of my son's performance, but also more at peace.  My nerves were more settled, my anxiety was down, my stress nearly absent from my mind.  All because of a voice recital I dreaded...who knew?

So what will make you stop?

And listen?

And be still?


What will bring you a forced time out?  What will bring you peace?