In my regular Mama role I sometimes have the opportunity to enjoy all the trappings motherhood can bestow. Today, Mother’s Day, was especially bittersweet as you’ll soon see, but I did somehow manage to still spend the day with one of my children and my adoring partner, eating a beautiful brunch, hobnobbing with freshly shorn sheep at the local working farm (which kicked off its seasonal Sunday farmer’s market in style), and journeying to a newly constructed Home Depot for some much-needed bungee cords.
As I sit in my office tonight, I’m reminded that the little things in our daily existence — those moments we covet because they are often beautiful in their simplicity — sometimes can’t fully dull the senses of the big things that often reach out from our life experience and horse collar us to the ground. Full body emotional take downs are often devastating, almost always unpleasant, and are not the kind of thing you can prepare for until they happen to you. The life-lessons that almost always accompany such acts of God are often good, but it’s the getting there that’s the hard part.
As is becoming an unwelcome habit lately, I have left my blog for this week to the last hours of a Sunday evening with a self-imposed midnight posting deadline. Tonight this deadline possesses even more of a challenge for me because in advance of next weekend’s Mamapalooza festival, I have to finish designing and uploading graphics for an extra large size banner and compile my notes for tomorrow’s Divas-Do-Lunch event at the Wainwright House.
I’m happy to have these things on my plate, but right now I can barely think straight. In fact, for two weeks I’ve been having a hard time concentrating much at all.
Instead of writing, I just caught myself staring at the two bracelets I am wearing on my left wrist. The first is a magnificent piece I have been attached to for almost three weeks, created by Shareane Baff. Her company is called Intentions Jewelry and you need to own one of her magnificent creations. This bracelet is named Athena. Fuschia with light topaz Swarovski crystals, it glimmers with properties that infuse its energy: integrity, truthfulness, justice and resolutions. According to Shareane, Athena is a wise and protective warrior goddess and she has asked to work with me.
The other bracelet is one I put on for the first time this evening. It is made of simple purple plastic that says “Mom” on it. It came attached to a Carlton card that my honey gave me, signed by him and my son. My daughter’s name, however, was filled in for her because she wasn’t here today to do it for herself. In fact, she hasn’t been home for two weeks. Happy Mother’s Day.
My daughter, only 10, spent the better part of the past month acting out some pretty terrible behaviors after remnants of past traumas came in fast and furious to haunt her beyond anything I’ve seen. Plagued by manic bouts of intensely painful memories she could do nothing but wish she was no longer on the planet. And so, with no choice, she had to be hospitalized.
As an inpatient with other 5-10 year old little children who have difficulties coping with the intense challenges in their lives, I can write with impunity I never thought my beautiful first-born with so many gifts and with so much to live for would wish to end her life because her memories were too painful for her to endure. But, after only two weeks, and with the structure and tireless dedication of this near-perfect inpatient clinic, I can hold my breath and say I think she’s doing better. She’s certainly not in the same space she was two weeks ago, and for this I am so grateful.
Though I have visited her every day, I have to admit, I still can’t comprehend how any of this is happening, or how young the young ones really are. Even writing this seems surreal. Five year olds? What could have possibly have happened to them that they would need such a place? And my little girl? How is it possible I couldn’t help her? Her team of mental health professionals couldn’t help her? Her school couldn’t help? And so, without any other choice, it was inevitable that she would wind up in a facility that could help her.
As my writer-boyfriend stated on our first visit there, “that place is like a cross between Oliver and Lord of the Flies,” but with nicer decor, pretty grounds and an extremely energetic, young, competent staff that looks like they belong in an Abercrombie ad.
Though I agreed, every day for two weeks, I have cried. I’ve done more than that; I’ve spent hours on the phone and in court opening up old but always active case files. I’ve spent hours in consult and meetings with my attorney dealing with my childrens’ classification and placement issues. I’ve spent hours digging through all-but buried documents, forms and filings in an attempt to make sense of this horrid mess.
In the end I’ve somehow done all this while presenting an appearance that things must continue as normal. But none of this is normal and in digging up these leering skeletons, I’ve spent a fair amount of time screaming at the Universe for opening up wounds that I would have much preferred remained haphazardly sutured as they’ve been now for more than seven years.
I can’t yet get into the specifics around the painful episodes that hospitalized my daughter, but I can say that once the sobs slow down, I am able to remember something else; because I am able to walk my walk as a past life regressionist, I have to believe there… strike that… I know there is some greater purpose …
My daughter will be okay. And one day soon, I know she will thrive because the demons of her past have been excised. But right now, I am so very proud of her bravery, honesty, courage and wisdom.
She has become not only a survivor, but she is becoming a real life hero in front of my eyes. When you have a child like this, every day is Mother’s Day and every moment, a blessing. Again I say, Happy Mother’s day.
To be continued….