My entire life I wanted to write.
As a child I would spend hours in my room rewriting pieces of literature just to get the feel of the words in motion. Just to feel the energy that comes from the art of creation. I thought at the time, that surely every nine-year old spends their afternoons doing this!
As I grew older, I became a Poet. Words filled my heart. Moved me. Motivated me. Words loved me and I loved them back.
To sit down with pen in hand, and a clean sheet of paper is beautiful and magical to me. It’s where the truths in my life get rooted, nurtured and blossoms from dysfunctional to not-as-dysfunctional.
Until the day came when I stopped writing.
Much of my writing is based on my life and the colorful experiences that paint the world of a single mother. Some in the Social Networking- sphere have come to love the tales and adventures of my son “da Boi”. It’s both easy and cathartic to mask humor in 140 characters.
Everything was changing. His 17 year-old world was unraveling. There was no longer anything funny or humorous to tweet about.
Where does a Writer go when words become too painful to face?
Some call me a Free-Spirit, some say I’m a Hippie…. I just know I desperately wanted to create a “Happily-ever-after” for my son. As his Mother, I need him to have a “Happily-ever-after.” I say this fighting back tears, fighting time, and fighting the demons of teen age defiance as it becomes entangled with severe mental health issues.
Avoiding words, meant I had a chance of hiding from the pain.
Except, no matter how much I hid and avoided, the heartache sill came, the tears still flowed.
My son’s “da Boi” story will be shared in time. Today, my first step is to face the honesty, the reality and the words….maybe if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to conclude with a “happy-ever-after ending”.
If not – we will conclude with just the truth. Just the words.
As I sit with pen in hand, and a clean sheet of paper I now know that anything is possible.
As big and beautiful as his heart is, he is the one in the class who will not sit still. He invades the personal space of others. At times, he is disrespectful to teachers and sometimes students. Some would argue that the distractions my son causes in the classroom is not fair to the teachers and especially the students. That he is robbing the students from learning their lessons.
What happens when no matter how intelligent and sweet these children are, they are slowly pushed aside? They will be pushed away so far that their distractions become faint. It will start with countless meetings to the school. It will continue with the child being moved away from the other students. The desk will be placed near the teachers or pulled away to sit alone. If the distractions continue, the child will be transferred to a Special Needs class, and then the last resort would be a special needs school.
We live in a world where messy and loud are not tolerated. Children with mental health issues are exhausting and can often be downright obnoxious. And still, these kids – my kid, deserves a solid education. He deserves positive childhood memories and to be included.
Where do kids go when they are not wanted around? What resources are available to assist with their emotional and social growth? I’ve heard the “It takes a village to raise a child.” quote over the years. But what if the village distances themselves or worse they turn their backs?
The journey to the first meeting requested by the school is long one. By the time of the first meeting is in motion, there have been several calls home to discuss the day. There have been several reprehended incidents in motion to address the current days list of distractions.
The optimist in me chooses to believe there are answers. However, as I lay awake at night concerned about my son’s future, I just at this time have no idea what those answers are. And while I am being honest with not only you, but myself, I will continue to do what I have for years. Celebrate the moments of good throughout the day, and collect them to help us get through the rocky days. I will remind myself that no child, not even mine CHOOSES to behave with dysfunction. And we get through the day. Sometimes that is the only goal, to simply get through the day.
I will do my best to remember that one memory does not necessarily reflect my child’s entire life. One good day, does not mean we will not have any more issues. But deeper than that the bad days also do not mean his life will be painful.
We –together, get through the day…minute by minute, and moment by moment.