When I'm not on here, I'm not thinking in text.
When I'm not thinking in text, I'm not really having any sort of inner creative life-- just reacting.
When you don't see me on here, smack me, k? Remind me that as much as I love my kids, I'm here to learn to WRITE and I need to finish my thesis. Everything, including my sweet 5 year old who starts conducitve education next week and I'm starting his communication system next week too, to my 12 year old who was throwing a tantrum so bad, his mom called me and asked if I'd take him so she could take a shower (after an hour of riding around together, I told him we were going home and giving his mom a big hug and kiss. He got out of my car and nearly broke the door down, and gave his mom a big "I'm sorry" hug) to my 20 year old who made me pizza the other day -- is secondary to my thesis this semester. I know this.
To know someone who is nonverbal is to really connect in a way that few people on this earth are able to do.
I'm blessed and to convince myself that there is something WRONG with me for liking this, or for doing this work, or that I should pull back -- I think that might cut out the best part of me and the part that gives me the most joy.
But I know that it's not healthy to sit here and plan how to rearrange my great-uncle's room in the nursing home if I could just get to visit. It's not healthy to worry about the future of two little girls in separate group homes, both hours away from me, both totally beyond my reach, even if I did love them and care about them once. I have to untangle.
When I first went to counseling, it was because I couldn't separate myself from problems in my family -- my mom and stepdad were separating and I felt the need to fix it. John helped me learn to put up boundries there. But I think I have learned to withdraw from those closest to me that have the most power and instead I attach it to kids, who have the power to break my heart, but not totally devastate me. Moving on is part of the relationship with my kids and is built into everything I do. i have to explain to my 20 year old all the time that I'm her friend, but I'm also like a teacher. My job is to make sure she's okay without me. That "out" is built into the relationship.
But other relationships? Like, say, with my husband? The only out there is divorce or death, both options so heartbreaking that I can't wrap my head around them. So I have a distance between us. Same with sisters and mom and relatives. But my kids -- I can let them break my heart over and over and know that there's always another kid that will want me, another family that needs help. I'm in demand. I'm valued. I'm appreciated. I'm not someone that can be walked away from -- it's me that usually has to walk away. I'm not gonna lie and say that's not part of it. But it's sheer joy. It really is. It's like knowing something mysterious and wonderful and you try to convince the rest of the world of this and all they see is brokenness. Today, while the 12 year old cooled off and ran around the park, mismatched clothes, waving his hands in the air, making dolphin sounds, I felt sorry for all the people who stared and had no idea what a beautiful creature he is.
And des[ite all the things I'm scared of, that I get off on the power of it, or that I enjoy being wanted, that moment in the park reminds me that there is good in what I do and need not mistrust my motives so much.
If I can pull away long enough to write my book, I can help convince the world of the beauty of this kiddo, of all of them I've come in contact with. I just have to get this done.