Posts tagged ‘happiness’

If You’re Happy and You Know It

I love to write. I have often thought if I could somehow make a living writing, I would. Teaching linguistics deepened that interest as I found new ways to rejoice in the language humans use. I had an entire lecture centered around the “F” word. I took my classes to cemeteries to study the use of language on gravestones (thanks, Dr. B., for sparking that interest). We debated whether behavior follows language or language follows behavior. All of this brought me great satisfaction.

Words are my happy place.

When I came back to “What We Need” several months ago at the urging of Therapist NC, it was pretty easy to write. Even though at some point in the past I felt as though I’d said everything here I needed to say, NC reminded me that this blog could now be about me more than about C. The words flowed. Then things slowed down a bit and I found myself struggling somewhat. The words did not come as easily as they used to.

Writing is my way of working through things. As my happy returned, I had less of a need to process, I suppose. I find it hard to write when I’m happy, even though words bring me such joy. When I’m happy, I’m out living my life, not processing it. Still, it’s practice, like everything else I’m doing to help stay on this road when C comes home. To remain calm amidst any chaos that may occur. To keep peace in my heart and head no matter what is happening in my home. To somehow walk that fine tightrope line of balance between what I need and what C needs.

It does seem like a tug of war to some extent. I’m reminded of that poem about special needs mothers by Erma Bombeck (excerpt below). It always resonated with me because I’ve never thought of myself as particularly patient and I have equally thought myself selfish. Somehow reading it justified those qualities or lack thereof, and I felt less guilty about not being the perfect mother.

Words have power. So I will continue to write, happy or sad, as I make my way through what is to come.

The Special Mother, by Erma Bombeck

“Give her a disabled child”. The angel is curious. “Why this one God? She’s so happy.”

“Exactly,” smiles God. “Could I give a disabled child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel!”

“But has she patience?” asks the angel.

“I don’t want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of sorrow and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she’ll handle it. I watched her today, she has that feeling of self and independence that is so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I’m going to give her has her own world. She has to make her live in her world and that’s not going to be easy.”

“But Lord, I don’t think she even believes in you.”

God smiles, “No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect – she has just enough selfishness.”

The angel gasps – “Selfishness? is that a virtue?”

God nods. “If she can’t separate herself from the child occasionally she won’t survive. Yes here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn’t realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider any step ordinary. When her child says “Momma” for the first time she will be present at a miracle and will know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see… ignorance, cruelty and prejudice…and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as if she is here by my side.”

“And what about her Patron saint?” asks the angel, his pen poised in midair.

God smiles… “A mirror will suffice.”

 

March 10, 2019 at 11:01 pm Leave a comment

The well is running dry

     This move has not been an easy one. Numerous reasons come to mind; all of them too mundane and detailed to bother with here. But suffice it to say we are all more than just a little homesick for lands west of the Mississippi. We’ve lived in seven cities in almost fourteen years, and while I usually enjoy starting over, I’m over it now. Still, there are great positives, and we know that. I expect in a few short months, we’ll settle in and start to love it. And if not, we’ll suffer through it for a few years until we feel like we can head back to the frontier.

     Husband and I aren’t spring chickens anymore, and my own health, while far more stable than it was a year ago (see here), is still presenting challenges. Basically, I’m tired. Not just physically, but emotionally. I keep wondering when life with C will get easier – and there are a great many things with him that are, in fact, easy – but the continuing challenges have taken their toll. I fully recognize that by the time I am done redirecting, correcting, motivating, corralling (is that even a word?), herding, guiding, planning, figuring, and, let us face it downright nagging, there is little left of me to be fun Mom. I tell myself perhaps I expect too much of C, but when I’m spent just getting him out of bed and out the door in the morning, there’s a problem.

     On one hand, this delightful child of mine is driving me downright Bat.Poop.Crazy. at the moment, and on the other hand, my tolerance level is low. Very low. Extremely low. You all know me; I don’t complain about my kid. I know raising a child, any child, is difficult. And I know raising a child like mine is beyond difficult, but I’m not a parent who feels short-changed with the child I was given. I feel lucky to have him, blessed to be entrusted with him, and generally feel slightly sorry for parents with typical children because I imagine it must be somewhat boring. Yet at the moment, I’m just spent, and I’m not really sure how to re-engage.

     I’m annoyed before I even get C up, because for the first time in his life I actually have to wake him in order to get to school on time, and he is not fun to rouse. I devised a routine where I take Dog into C’s room, plop him on top of C and let Dog lick C awake. Dog is old, really old, and I wonder how long he will be with us. What then? I wonder. And then I get annoyed because C can’t just get up like any other kid. No, I have to get him up happy, or the day is shot. And then this annoys me – all the hoops I have to jump through just to make things happen for C.

     Yes, I am a control freak. This I know. But having the child I have has furthered that trait to an obsession of which I am not proud. Yes, I do things to accommodate my child not only for his happiness, but for my own as well. If he’s happy, I’m happy. When he’s not happy, everyone pays, and pays dearly. And that payment is just not worth it to me anymore; I have no well left from which to draw.

     It’s a slippery slope here. This I know. But I just can’t seem to get any traction.

February 8, 2011 at 5:22 am 7 comments


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