More Travel Tales

Dearest Red Bird

Well, it's been a while since I've told you tales from the road, so I feel a little catch up is in order. Last news was from Indian Head where a very grumpy Sparrow was having a love/hate relationship. I feel a need to expand on what I said in an effort to redeem my image, that post was not a shinning example of my personality. The truth is I'm a terrible sleeper and Indian Head wasn't the first place where The Canadian Pacific Railway had robbed me of the very few hours I manage to snatch every night. Getting to sleep is difficult, I often lie awake for one to two hours no matter how tired I am and staying asleep is hard too. Most nights I am awake by two or three am and am then tossing and turning for the rest of the night. It's usually body pain that robs me of sleep, back, arms and now a new symptom of restless legs, that one is so much fun! Still, Indian Head didn't deserve my hate. I was sad to leave and still encourage anyone heading that way to visit.

Indian Head, Saskatchewan

During our stay in Indian Head we took a day trip into Regina. I wasn't expecting much from Regina, I don't know why, but I was pleasantly surprised. The architecture was beautiful and the city well thought out. The downtown core was centered around a lovely little park with the newer buildings sympathetic to the heritage of old Regina. A short drive from downtown is an area known as Wascana. Acres of parkland surrounding a central lake and the University of Regina nestled among quiet treed neighbourhoods. We had a lovely day and would visit again in a heart beat.


Ever onwards we pointed the car towards the Rocky Mountains and followed Highway 1 into Alberta, stopping en route at Sask. Landing Provincial Park in Saskatchewan and Tillebrook Trans-Canada Provincial Park in Alberta. Tillebrook is the tinniest park just outside Brooks a small town a couple of hours east of Calgary. Brooks claim to fame is a massive Aqueduct and engineering marvel built in the early 1900's. Impressive in it managing to be a complete disaster on so many levels! Once built they discovered that the concrete used was sub par and immediately started to rot. The flow rate predicted was never reached as the surface of the Aqueduct was to rough and  friction slowed the flow of water considerably. With the water coming from a local river the introduction of algae, weeds and fish had not been taken into consideration and the Aqueduct had to be regularly dredged and drained. In fact there were so many fish, on the days they drained the Aqueduct the locals would turn up with sacks to take home the catch of the day! In the end they gave up and dug a canal along side instead. Irrigation problem solved. Close to Brooks is Dinosaur Provincial Park in the Badlands of Alberta. The scenery is breathtaking, To be honest with you I didn't really know what they meant by badlands, I was expecting dry desert like plains, but the deep valleys and stunning rock formations are really something. We didn't see any Dinosaurs which was just as well, I've seen Jurassic Park, it doesn't end well.

Hoodoo's in Dinosaur Provincial Park

And so on to Calgary, but I'll save that for next time. I'm so looking forward to hearing your travel tales Red Bird. Not quite such a long ride as us but just as exciting. I'm thinking of you on these last few days of packing and cleaning, the worst part of moving for sure. I wish I could be there to help.
Always yours
Sparrow

A Poem

Red Bird

In the interest of being consistent and having some flow here at Birdie and Sparrow I'm going to share a little something with you which ties in with your last post, I will try. We are both learning and growing on this journey and have been looking at how to recognize who we are and what we want our lives to be. I wrote before of my inability for follow through. A need for everything to be perfect, ultimately I guess because I'm unable to handle criticism, a terrible flaw I know. So I am taking a giant leap here and am going to include a poem for all to see. I'm terrified so be gentle.

Tin Can by Sparrow


My little tin can is not for peas or beans.
It does not contain those tiny corn cobs perfect for stir fry.
There is no custard filling it's ridged shell,
or fruit ready for a butter crust and dollops of rich whipped cream.
It's label is starting to wear,
evidence of it's long journey from packing to shipping,
the contents preserved, yet somehow different.
As time passes we fit together better,
settling in our environment,
absorbing our surroundings,
until finally the journey is over and out we spill.
No, my little tin can is not for peas or beans
but for living.
It does not confine
but sets us free from the humdrum of regular life.
For the first time we really see
and the view is perfect.

I Will Try

Sparrow,

My dear eldest born is the one who originally introduced me to the poetry of Mary Oliver – the poet that inspires the name of this blog, "Am I Lost". One day, knowing I was going through a hard time, my beautiful first born loaned me her copies of  Mary Oliver's “Red Bird” and “Thirst”.  Another time, again, knowing that I was struggling, she posted the following on my Facebook timeline as a reminder of the strength she knew I had, even if I didn't:

I Will Try

I will try.
I will step from the house to see what I see
and hear and I will praise it.
I did not come into the world
to be comforted.
I came, like red bird, to sing.
But I'm not red bird, with his head-mop of flame
and the red triangle of his mouth
full of tongue and whistles,
but a woman whose love has vanished,
who thinks now, too much, of roots
and the dark places
where everything is simply holding on.
But this too, I believe, is a place
where God is keeping watch
until we rise, and step forth again and-
but wait. Be still. Listen!
Is it red bird? Or something
inside myself, singing?

This poem moved me - deeply - and served as a constant reminder that I was going to be okay but, I've recently realized an important detail:  I no longer need the reminder! I'm no longer “simply holding on”, am I? I did take that step from the house, didn’t I, Sparrow? I stepped from the house, and I stopped asking to be comforted.You've been telling me this all along but I don't think I was capable of hearing you before now.

So, now that I've realized I'm "singing", I'm ready for the physical part of my journey and it's about time because it's about to happen!  The boxes are packed and stacked and the big pieces of furniture are in the garage waiting to go (did I tell you in one of my emails that the garage door broke? Seriously, right before I move!!! I LOVED paying out yet more money to get it fixed...YEESH). The Ex is at his parent's home as I type this to bring back their trailer to move the accumulation of the past years and all seems to be on target.  Now, like you, I am ready to move on. I may not be going as far, and I may not be giving everything away(I am, in fact, taking many of your things with me, aren’t I!)but I’m moving on nonetheless and I’m only able to do it because I finally learned that there’s something “inside myself, singing”.

All this talk of moving has made me contemplate the route we're both taking on these journeys of ours. Let's, for fun, compare the two, shall we? This should be funny. Let's start with the journey you're taking:

Now, what does my journey look like?  Let's have a look:

Wow...a bit of a difference, isn't there?!

Regardless of the length of the route from "start" to "finish" for me, I am going to glory in it! I'll send you pictures, Sparrow, and I'll email you my new address. I know you'll be cheering me on every step of the way and I love you for that!

Yours Always, Red Bird

The Enigma

My dear Birdie.

How many times a day do you look at your fledgling and ask, 'How is that even possible?', when they do things that are completely contrary to their abilities, things that their OCD or SPD or autism make so hard for them to do. The boy has the most incredible vocabulary, yes, my boy, the one who can't hold a 'normal' conversation, the one who until we put him on med's rarely spoke at all. In fact the same boy who never reads, well not books anyway. He can't process what you say to him unless you break it down into small components and even then you may have to repeat it several times. Yet when he does speak, not only are his subjects erudite, he has such a grasp of the English language I wonder to whom I am speaking sometimes, most of the time I'm not even sure what the words mean. Little bugger knows his vocab is superior too and isn't afraid to stop mid sentence and ask if I know what such and such a word means either. He gets more and more like Sheldon everyday. Pod casts are to blame, his nightly listening of intellectual jibberjabber filling his head with all sorts of profound nonsense;p Turns out those hours of Sex and the City watching did nothing to help me become his intellectual equal. Still I dress better than him and what could be more important than that!

Always Yours
Sparrow

Who am I? Good question!

The funny thing about your question Red Bird is that I've always known who I was, but I've never actually been that person.  I think I can steal a few of your personality traits (no surprise there seeing as we are the same person) but I would also add desperate to please, perfectionist and coward to the list.
I am the girl would will do anything to make the people around her happy, which in turn means not always doing the things I would prefer to do. I will accept nothing but perfection from myself, which in turn means never getting anything done for fear of failure. I am a coward because I know who I am, but I won't be that person. You made some big changes in your life recently, things that I have always wanted to do. I have so much respect for you because you were fearless and I am still a coward. I'm really good at hiding behind people and telling myself that they are my obstacle, when really all I have to do is walk around them. Perhaps this is who I really am and I'm kidding myself that I'm anything else. I don't think I could handle finding anything else out about myself right now, working on these things is exhausting enough! Then again maybe finding out more will give me some answers. Ultimately I think what this is, is too long being a mother or wife. Too long playing the part and not taking the time to just be me as well. My husband is really good at finding time to do the things he wants to do.He knows what he wants and he goes and gets it.  I really respect him for that. He believes that life is to short and you have to act now. He once asked me, when I was feeling down and frustrated, what I wanted, what I wanted my legacy to be. That was many years ago and I still haven't found the answer, too afraid of failure! I am getting braver though, setting goals and actually doing them. Ran a marathon, displayed my art and have plans in the pipeline.

If we're dedicating posts to people then this one I will have to dedicate to you my friend, I hope you know how much I value you. And my husband. I am married to a man who will make me laugh every day, who has always been supportive no matter how irrational I'm being and a wonderful father. You both make me a better person. Thank you.

Always yours
Sparrow

Little Train on the Prairie. Losing it part two

My dear Birdie

I have to tell you about the small prairie town we are staying in because it's a strange thing, I've never had such a love/hate relationship like this before.
Indian Head, about 80km east of Regina, is a beautiful one street, what I would have imagined a prairie town to look like, town. Established in 1882, the wide main street has an old west kind of feel with original buildings lining a flower filled community. The place is spotless and you really get the sense that everyone is on the same page here. They are working hard to make it a vibrant yet original prairie town. It probably helped that the television show 'Little Mosque on the Prairie' was filmed here. Nothing like a location shoot to refill a towns coffers. The town's main source of revenue from what I can tell comes from the 19 grain elevators that dominate the skyline. The campsite we are staying in is also fantastic. Private campgrounds, we have found, tend to be basic, grey, pack em in affairs, yes they have all the bells and whistles such as pools and WiFi and sometimes (okay, only in the states so far) cable, but they lack the same back to nature feel of the Provincial parks. Indian Head Campground has green grass rather than brown, plenty of trees and best of all is a short walk to town. When you spend as many hours driving as we do being able to walk somewhere is heavenly. So why a love/hate relationship? Great big @#*!ing trains that blow their @#**!y horns what feels like every hour all through the night. Why? Why do they have to run all night long. During the day there are maybe one or two trains, but who cares, I'm awake so it doesn't matter. I get that this town probably wouldn't exist without the railway, but we are in the middle of nowhere surrounded by prairie, who's stupid idea was it to settle all of the town right next to the railway line? Who is responsible for scheduling the trains to run all night. Why do they have to sound their horns at the crossings at either end of town when they have barriers with flashing lights on them. If you're stupid enough to cross the barrier when it's down, well more fool you. If you're stuck on the crossing , I'm assuming the flashing lights and a lowering barrier would be enough to send you running. And if you're really stuck, I'm sorry and I hope you had a full life with few regrets, but let's face it no amount of horn is going to get you out of the pickle you're in. So I love this town, it's a little gem. The people are friendly and it just has that feeling of home, and Red Bird if you are ever heading out this way, do stop and stay, just bring earplugs or a full bottle of Scotch....on second thoughts, bring both.

Always Yours
Your sleep deprived friend, Sparrow

To Thine Own Self Be True

Sparrow,

Recently, I had a conversation with a dear friend that left me thoughtful for days. I won’t go into the exact nature of the conversation but it was basically about knowing what my needs are, in terms of love and friendship, in order to move forward on my personal journey. To highlight a point he was making he referenced this quote:

“To thine own self be true”...

("This above all: to thine own self be true,
And it must follow, as the night the day,
Thou canst not then be false to any man."
- William Shakespeare, Hamlet, 1.3)

“To thine own self be true”. It is such a short quote but, yet, such a powerful and challenging one, isn’t it? The challenge is this: do you know yourself well enough to be true to yourself, Sparrow?  I’ve often reflected on my own personality and/or had aspects of it pointed out to me by others but really knowing myself is something I haven’t, until recently, considered.

If you were to outline your personality on paper, Sparrow, do you know what words you would use? Could you list the good and the bad? Would you use the same descriptors for yourself that others would, do you think?  After a lot of thought, I know I could use the following to describe myself:

Anxious

Intelligent

Loving              

Emotional                               

Impulsive                    

Stubborn

Kind

Anal retentive :-)

Generous

Curious

Bitchy :-)

I’m that girl with her foot in her mouth who will walk into trouble, see the warning signs, and walk into it anyway. I drive too fast, listen to music too loudly and I cry too EASILY.  I like being alone. I don’t have a natural ability to read social cues and, so, I am easily frustrated by people or I frustrate them, in return. I have a capacity to be forgiving, not because I am naïve, but because forgiveness is important to me and I work at it. I have an unfortunate temper. I laugh easily and for some reason strangers like to have spontaneous conversations with me which I encourage to the annoyance and humour of people with me. I have a keen desire to be a good friend.

                                                                                                         

"To thine own self be true"...

I’m sure there is a lot I still don’t know about myself but I have a good basic understanding of who I am and, now, I can take the time to look at the people in my life and consider whether or not they belong on my journey. They don’t always have to agree with my actions, but they have to be willing to like and/or love me for who I am.  In the end, it was an enlightening conversation that I had with this friend and I dedicate this posting to him. I don’t know if he had any idea that I would spend so much time considering our discussion but I did, and I thank him for that. This friend has often challenged and encouraged me to think deeply and this is one of the reasons why I like him in my life; why he is welcome on my journey.

You, Sparrow, will always be welcome on my journey and I’m thankful for you.

Love Always, a happy to be herself, Red Bird

Losing it!

 Pre-travel the boy's would have what I like to call bonding time over some Zombie killing or Portal producing PlayStation activity. I would have bonding time with my Yoga mat or treadmill, perhaps spend some quality time in my studio. This PlayStation bonding time was usually reserved for Saturday and Sunday evenings. The last few months before we left I found myself sitting with them in the family room, half watching, mainly reading blogs, but generally using the old Internet and all it's wisdom. Post travel, the boy's 'bond' every night and I'm trying to fill my time, without a studio, without room to do Yoga and without the Internet or my treadmill. I'm teaching myself how to crochet, it's going terribly. I understand the instructions, I can do the stitches, but for some reason I can't put it all together. I read and I draw but sometimes you just need something easy to do. Like watching a chick flick, something that requires little brain power. We try and get to local libraries as often as we can to stay in touch but every now and then I want to veg with my favourite blogger's and be entertained. So on occasion we 'treat' ourselves by staying in a private campsite with all the bells and whistles.
Yesterday I cried, Red Bird, no I sobbed. I felt overwhelmed, ganged up on, dispirited and ultimately when it was all over pathetic. The boy's had WiFi and I didn't and it broke me. Stupid computer.

Always yours
 Sparrow

Superior Travel Tales

Dearest Birdie.
We have finally left Ontario, who knew it was so big. Admittedly we did detour via several US states but still, the province is never ending. We left 'The Soo' as they call it and headed for Thunder Bay, both towns not really worth a mention, but the drive between was heavenly and our stop en route breathtaking. I always thought they called it Lake Superior for it's size but I'm convinced now it was for it's beauty. We stopped overnight at Neys Provincial Park, a stunning location where our site was right on the beach overlooking the Lake (or ocean as we found ourselves calling it, seriously can you call something that big a lake, really?) Had the thought of another Ontario winter not convinced me other wise I don't think I would have left. I found myself experiencing an inner peace and happiness rarely available in normal day to day suburban living. I had found heaven and it was Superior! Regrettably we had only booked for one night and had already booked our next destination. I told myself that familiarity breeds contempt, so it was better this way. Now more than ever I know ocean front (or very big lake front) living is for me.
So I have a confession. Whenever people talked about the prairies and how flat they are, I got it. Not so hilly, no big mountains, a lot of fields.  But holy moly are the prairies flat and not only that, but the minute we crossed from Ontario into Manitoba the terrain changed. One minute endless slow up hill climbs and scary, seriously Honey brake, no, brake now, no, brake HARDER, down hill amusement park ride descents. The next, one gear, one speed and absolutely no chance of seeing a bear. At one point the boy pointed out a city on the horizon and we all relaxed a bit thinking our journey nearly over for the day, tea and biscuits here we come. An hour later we were still driving towards the city in the distance. That's how flat the prairies are. I was a fool and I now understand.
We did finally arrive in Winnipeg and are now at Bird's Hill Provincial Park. Another beautiful place to stay, huge, well maintained and full of wildlife. We have seen white tailed deer, what we think are marmots?(cross between a groundhog and a rat/squirrel) and yesterday a falcon flew down to umpire our tennis game. Tomorrow we will explore Winnipeg then head into the northern reaches of the park where the rangers tell me I have a good chance of seeing a bear. I believe they are renting a bear costume as I speak to keep the Canadian conspiracy of bears in this country alive. I have been in this country for 14 years and have yet to see one, I'm beginning to suspect a hoax!
I'll end, Red Bird, with an amazing story. En route to Winnipeg we stopped overnight near Dryden, Ontario. After setting our tin can up for the night, our boy, after having read through the small leaflet on the park, stood up, headed for the door, slipped on his shoes and turning to us said 'There's free WiFi if you ask at the office, I'm going to the office'. He then promptly walked out the door. We sat dumbfounded. Can you believe that, I mean who was that boy? For anyone else reading this, this is a tremendous thing. My boy doesn't understand people. He has trouble reading facial expressions and body language, takes everything literally and is, what they call a rigid thinker. Therefore having a conversation with someone is very confusing. He can't predict what they might say, he can't read between the lines and we, as humans, rarely say what we mean in plain and simple terms. We infer, shrug, turn away when we talk and answer questions with questions. To him it's like being in a foreign country yet he understands the words, just not what you're trying to say. He will do everything he can to avoid having to talk to people.What was his explanation for this incredible feat? 'It was a matter of life or WiFi'! We'll have to remember that next time we set a social challenge! We took a risk taking this journey, our hope was that exposing him to the world would be more beneficial, socially, than keeping him in school. This and an encounter in the library (a story for another day) have helped to quell our fears a little that we made the right decision. Progress, Red Bird, is very satisfying.

Always yours
Sparrow

*Correction, they were not Marmot's but Prairie Dogs,kinda obvious really seeing as we were in the prairies. Did not see a bear btw.

Confessions of an Anal Retentive Control Freak

Dear Sparrow:

For a year, my youngest daughter (AKA Fledgling) campaigned for a dog. 

A year.

No joke.

Seriously.

Fledgling asked, she begged, she gave me puppy dog eyes. When I would go to bed at night, I would find notes asking for a dog on my pillow, under my pillow, and taped above my bed. Sometimes, at night, when I would climb into bed, I would find a list outlining the pros and cons of dog ownership tucked into the sheets with me. Those little notes weren’t just “notes”, they were declarations of “see, I’m responsible enough to have done research - I DESERVE a dog”.

I’m not adverse to dogs. I actually love them. When my eldest daughter was a young miss she, too, wanted a dog and she got one. We had the sweetest, most loving Collie/German Shepherd mix named Chelsea and Chelsea was a star in our family. If you came near Chelsea, she would bowl you over with love and affection and want nothing more in return than that you should pay her attention and possibly scratch behind her ear. Unfortunately, when the allergies became too much for my ex-husband to bear, we moved Chelsea along to another family who loved her as much as we did and, as far as I know, Chelsea is still alive and happy with them.

I’ve always felt terrible about giving away my oldest daughter’s dog and, while I would love to say that’s the reason I don’t want one again, it’s not.  See, and here’s a confession that is going to make me look like a terrible, terrible, high-maintenance woman:

I’M AN ANAL RETENTIVE CONTROL FREAK

:-)

Dogs leave messes. They shed. They track mud and dirt into the house on their paws and they require walks which lead, inevitably, to the emptying of bowels which, inevitably, leads to me having to pick up poop in little bags which then have to be carried, often by me, until I can get home and flush it down the toilet and that’s GROSS!

 :-)

Yes. I know. I’m a terrible human being to let my needs come before my child’s desire for a puppy. I’m not afraid to admit it. I’M ANAL RETENTIVE. If you know me, you’re shaking your head in agreement. Sparrow, I can just see you nodding as you read this.

I gave in though, and, you know why? Not, unfortunately, because I learned the error of my ways but because the perfect dog presented itself. A girlfriend of mine, one that is, obviously, a much better, much less anal retentive mother than I am, was getting her child a dog that sounded like one even I, anal retentive mother, could live with.  

A Small dog.  

A non-shedding dog.

A dog that could be…drum roll please…litter trained (I know, some of you are groaning, right!).

A light bulb went off for me. Litter box training means no walking around with bags of poop on freezing Ottawa winter mornings. Non-shedding means no going out for dinner in a black outfit (it’s always a black outfit with me) with traces of dog hair all over me.

Perfect dog.

Fortunately, my girlfriend was more than happy to let me share and join in on choosing a puppy from this same litter and, now, I am a good mother who is getting to be a hero by getting her Fledgling a puppy.

I still have those notes, and drawings and lists that my Fledgling created in her yearlong campaign to get a dog.  I  tucked all that evidence into the pages of a book for “safe keeping”.  I still feel guilt over giving the sweet-tempered Chelsea away but, come August 20, I will feel like a hero and my Fledgling will finally be snuggling her very own puppy, a Yorkie. I can’t imagine a better way to move forward on our journey to a new home than with an extra family member, can you, Sparrow?

Love always, a “happiest when she’s vacuuming”, Red Bird

PS, I’m not REALLY that anal retentive, it just sounds funnier if I say I am. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it!

Reminiscing

Sparrow,

My new house has been found and purchased and the papers have been signed making it official; I’m moving. My “physical” journey is becoming a reality and, to commemorate, I’ve spent the week packing.  The house is starting to look bare and the pile of garbage needing to go to the curb is growing.  Odds and ends are left at the end of the driveway each evening in the hope that they will be taken and repurposed. I’m leaving my life behind, packing it up, throwing it away, and gifting it. Oh, I know, I know, theses “things” aren’t really my “life”, and, in actual fact, leaving them is freeing.  But, as the house begins to echo, as it did when I sneezed this morning (to Fledgling’s delight), I’m left with a sense of loss because this is the last home we shared together as a family and, poignantly, with my oldest daughter.

You can say the same now that you’ve packed up and your oldest has flown from the nest can’t you, Sparrow? You, too, packed up your life and, at the same time, your final days of living under the same roof with your oldest. I wonder if you, like me, relived memories as you boxed and emptied each room.  There’s the coffee stain my oldest hid from me until it was too late to get it out and there’s a gouge in the wall of her old room from some carelessness or other. I look in the yard and I can see her lined up for pictures with her friends in their prom gowns or the limo in the driveway ready to whisk them away.  Do you remember that day, Sparrow? It seems like a lifetime ago, now.

I think a lot about these young ladies, these first born children of ours that are now women. I think about them both routinely as I’m packing up. Our girls will visit us, I know. They will ease themselves back into our spaces and make themselves comfy, filling every available surface with their things, personalities and demands, reminding us of old times. Hopefully, our children will always know that they have a place with us, but will they feel like it’s their home? I don’t think so and that saddens me. We, Fledgling and I, will be a unit and she, eldest born, will be a guest.  Oh, I know, home is where the heart is, home is where the family is, blah, blah, blah. Really, it’s not the same, is it?  

The bright side, Sparrow, and I’m sure you revel in this much as I do, the bright is that the dramas that naturally occur in the lives of these adult female children of ours, these dramas no longer occur under our roofs and we can breathe a sigh of relief over that, at least!

Love Always, Red Bird

Um, about that friend request

I joined Facebook last night, Red Bird. This morning my finger is hovering over the delete account button. Why did I join? Well first and foremost because I miss my daughter. As a teen, (sorry dear, I mean almost adult!), Facebook is her means of communication. She tolerates my techno inadequacies by kindly emailing with me, but if I want to feel closer to her and catch up on her comings and goings, it is to Facebook I must turn. Further down the list are reasons such as this Blog and your amazing job of getting it out there. The thing is, as you know , I am a very private person. Within seconds of signing up, Facebook presented me with a very long list of all the people I know, might know or have never heard of who would be willing to be my friend. It quite frankly scared the crap out of me. Can I live up to expectations? Will I be a worthy friend? Do I really want to share my life with ALL these people. I realize the paradox of sharing those fears on a Blog about my life. The difference is anonymity. Here I am Sparrow, out there I am just me, and is that enough?
What this reaction has made me realize is that I am not accepting of who I am. So, in the spirit of this journey and flying free, I will remove my finger from the delete button. I will accept my life and all it's triumphs and failures. Compare and dissect all you want, that's how it went down.

 Ever forward, Red Bird, ever forward.
Always yours, Sparrow.

Rollerblading or Coming Back to Life

Sparrow,

I’m feeling better after my “lame” rollerblading accident.  My ego, on the other hand, is still bruised and needs more time to heal, but that’s another issue!  Like a good girl, I spent the week recovering, “milking it” as you suggested and, while I didn’t do much in the way of writing, I did do a lot of thinking.  In a roundabout way, Sparrow, I did a lot of thinking inspired by rollerblading and, even though you’re so far away, by you…

You sent me an email recently in which you wrote, “Holy Cow, you went rollerblading with Fledgling!” I know, I know, anyone reading this must be wondering what the big deal is; kids rollerblade all the time. You, however, know otherwise. You know my kid.  You know something about her that only a handful of my closest friends and family know and, now (sorry fledgling), anyone following this blog:

My kid is clinically depressed

 Fighting depression has been a way of life for this family since my youngest was around 6 or 7 (and, really, it’s a condition that holds this family unit, as well as extended family, in a tight and vicious grip).  Fledgling is only 12 and depression defines huge chunks of her life. When  I say depressed, it would be underestimating her condition to think that what I mean is Fledgling  is sad because she doesn’t feel pretty, because a friend was mean to her or a pet died, though any of us with teens know these are valid reasons to feel “blue”.  What I’m talking about in this case is a severe and debilitating depression. It’s a condition that has, at points in her life, taken away my child’s ability to function in her own day to day life.  At these times, she shuts herself up in her room and loses all interest in food, hobbies, school.  God forbid she be touched, spoken to, asked to participate.

While I don’t advocate medication in all cases or for all people, our family, as a family, and along with a pediatrician, a psychologist and psychiatrist, recently decided that anti-depressants would be an appropriate route for our daughter. Without exaggeration, we were losing this child and this child was losing herself. She desperately needed a break from the nightmare happening inside of her own brain, and we hoped that medication, along with the appropriate talk-based therapies, would give her the relief she desperately needed.

This isn’t to say, however, that medication was an easy choice and I don’t think it should be. Medications are powerful tools that, when used properly and appropriately, can be a lifeline to so many people but I HAVE to recommend research, research and more research. If you’re turning to medications do you know if they’ve been tested on children? Do you know ALL the negative consequences of a specific medication and the class of drug? Has your child had a thorough psychological/psychiatric/medical evaluation?  Drug therapy is a powerful tool but it can also prove to have adverse effects-in some instances even coming up as a possible link to suicidal tendencies in children, the exact thing you were trying to avoid (http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/antidepressants/MH00059).

When it was obvious, to all around her, that my kid was again deep in the throes of depression, it still took us months to not only get a prescription for anti-depressants, but also to be sure that we, as a family, were ready to give them to her.  In the end, after all of my careful research and discussions with the medical professionals in her life, we came to the conclusion that not medicating this child could have serious ramifications; we could lose her, literally.

Now, my kid is rollerblading.

This week, Fledgling swam. We had conversations. She baked brownies, and ate them. After my lame brained rollerblading accident, she offered sympathy, and, last week, she hugged me.

She hugged me.

You, of all people, Sparrow, know that while these things may seem minor, insignificant, even, they are HUGE. They are the signs of a child coming back to the land of childhood and I happily share this post with you because you, too, had to stand by and watch her go through this. I’m including this quote by Helen Claes because not only does it apply to my Fledgling, but to both my daughters, and your children as well:

What I wanted most for my daughter was that she be able to soar confidently in her own sky, whatever that may be.

Love always, a grateful, grateful, “well-hugged”, Red Bird

Klutz Queen Takes a Nose Dive-Literally

Sparrow,


As you, and 1 or 2  of our blog followers know, I am out of commission this week after a nasty fall while rollerblading so I won't be posting again until next week. The problem is, someone forgot to remind me that I fall, A LOT, when I decided to be "Queen of the Blades". Would you believe I was actually back at the car, getting ready to take my rollerblades off when I fell, face first, on the asphalt?  I was so close to being home free or, should I say, so close to being accident free!  Unfortunately, my face is bruised and sore and my right arm looks, and feels, worse.  The arm is not broken and I'm sure I'll recover soon but, in the meantime, typing takes too much effort and I hate voice dictation. I'll heal by following the advice you gave me in your most recent email...to cure myself via ice cream, wine, a hot bath and Robert Downey Jr.!


Good advice. Very, very good advice!


Love always, a bruised and sore Red Bird