Ever Hopeful For the Possibility of Things To Come

Dear Sparrow:

It’s been a while since I’ve posted to the blog, to our Facebook page or, even, sent you an email. As you know, the past few weeks have been difficult for me with turmoil on just about every front and I owe you an email first and foremost so I can congratulate you on the new “digs” and secondly so I can alleviate your concerns for what is happening on this end.

I was blunt in my last posting about how things are going with my youngest daughter and, thanks to some thoughtful psychiatric interventions and care, I think we’re starting to see an improvement on that front. I am, however, not going to talk about it further in this blog.  With the way things have progressed we, as a family, need to come to terms with our own emotions in private. You, my dear Sparrow, will get an email, a long detailed email full of the typos that I so often make and that you so dearly love!

In the meantime, I’m going to tell you about a little something that happened to me today:  I was in the line to get a Starbucks Chai Latte at the local Chapters store and, as usual, I ended up in a conversation with a complete stranger while standing in a longer than average line. We spoke for a bit, joked about the length of the line and our desperation for some coffee. We tried to “one up” each other on who it was we would kill to have a coffee in hand at that moment: my mother, his dog, his dog’s mother, the mother of his dog’s mother…you get the just of it. We were being downright idiotic for the sake of being idiotic on a busy day when everyone seemed to be in a bad mood because of last minute Christmas shopping. We got our coffees and I turned to say goodbye, wishing him a Merry Christmas and telling him how much I enjoyed passing the time with him in the never ending line. I turned to leave when I felt a hand on my shoulder and I heard him say, “So, if you give me your number…”

You, Sparrow, are probably smiling at this because you know that, yet again, I am feeling the twinge of romantic upset as just yesterday the very short lived relationship between myself and a certain character I met while drinking a Starbucks Chai Latte and whom we affectionately call “Ikea Man” has come to a not so dramatic end. You know that I am spending some time with tears and regret and that I even had a moment of “that’s it, I’m done! Never again! That’s what happens when, like an idiot, you allow yourself to care”. But that’s not true, is it? I'm not done.  We both know that I’m going to dust myself off and I’m going to get right back up on that horse again because that’s what I do. At least, that’s what I do now. I promised myself, when this journey started, that I was going to refuse to shy away from pain; that I was going to take the good with the bad and not get lost in the bad. And, that’s what I’ve done. Sure, I’ve had some sadness this past year, but that sadness was caused by some beautiful people and, so, it was worth it.

Normally, when I’m in emotional pain of any sort, I hide it. I bury it until there’s no one around, I have a cry and I force myself to get “over it”. I’ve done something different this time, though, I told both my daughters. It’s not a surprise I would tell my eldest because she’s an adult now and she can treat me like someone other than “her mother” but I would normally hide this from Fledgling. This time, however, I wanted my wee miss to know that I was in pain. She knew about this relationship even though she was not a part of it and I wanted her to know it was over because I wanted her to see how people deal with pain in a mature way. Pain happens to us all and a healthy response is to accept it, feel it, cry, and find ways to make yourself feel better in good time.

She heard what I had to say on the topic, saw how sad I was, hugged me and cried for me. She spent the evening keeping up light hearted talk to make me feel better and she even climbed into bed with me for the night so she could be there if I needed someone. I was right to tell her because in doing so, not only am I teaching her very important lessons about love and loss but I’m also allowing her to feel compassion and empathy, both things that children like ours, and all children on the Autism Spectrum, have difficulty with. Fledgling came through for me and, in return, I came through for her by allowing her to see me grieve in a healthy way

Thinking back on 2012, I can say that despite some sadness that has taken me by storm, despite the constant ups and downs in my Fledgling’s life, despite the fear and loneliness brought on by my separation, despite some traumas and pain in the life of my eldest born and despite my own medical issues that had me, yet again, “under the knife”, this has been an extraordinary year and I’m thankful for it. I’ve laughed more this past year than I have in a VERY, VERY, long time. I’m surrounded by people who love me, truly love me, and who let me know that they do on a regular basis. The support that I get from you, from my daughters and from my friends leaves me breathless at times. Do you know how many times in a week I hear the ding of my phone and it is someone telling me that they love me? It happens an astounding number of times. And, you know what? I deserve it. I seriously do. I know that now.

So, in the end, my dear friend, I told my new “Starbucks Friend” that I would not be calling, at least not now. I gave him my name in exchange for his so that, in the future if I change my mind, I can find him on Facebook and extend an invitation for coffee. For now, however, I’m going to take my time, not because I’m hiding, I’ll never do that, but because “Ikea Man” is a wonderful person and I will miss his presence in my life. I think he’s worth a period of mourning and I’m going to allow it to happen. I’m going to allow my children to see me sad and, more importantly, see me come through it intact. No matter what, I’m happy to have experienced the “ouchies” I have this year because each one was a sign that I’m still actively participating in my life.

I’d like to thank each and every person that has touched my life this past year, some briefly and some profoundly. I’d like to thank them for the laughs, the tears and the support. I hope that when people think about me, and their experiences with me this year, that they will say that I had some impact on them, in return, because if I haven’t made an impression, whether good or bad, then I find that sad. I’d like to thank our readers, Sparrow, for supporting us, for giving advice and cheering us on. Merry Christmas, everyone and may the New Year see you, like me, hopeful for the possibility of things to come.

With love and gratitude for you, Sparrow
Red Bird