Hello again dear reader ….
I know it has been several days since I last wrote. Not my normal modus operandi, but sometimes life happens. Well, life happened to me for several difficult days in a row. The non-ability to sleep was a BIG factor in making my days extremely arduous. Watching my food was not a problem somehow, that still amazes me, given all the craziness of my life of late. So, don’t trouble your mind about my weight, last home check I have lost since my last weigh in. Here’s to hoping there will be good news Tuesday. Still, more life happened further making writing an impossibility. I pray you forgive me.
Dear reader, I know you would understand if I but explained; however, humble hubris (modest pride–is that a believable state of mind?) restrains me. The complications of the past few days have now dissipated, and I must say that I am quite relieved. The writing of this, the second and third parts in my trilogy, has been one of the many complications plaguing me. Why you ask?
This post has been difficult to continue for a number of reasons. Last night (this is where I started writing my second installment the following day as expected) I could barely sleep for having shared this most sacred of part of my soul. It is not that I am afraid to share the story in person or that I haven’t shared it many times before, so what about writing it down causes me such distress? Why did it disrupt my sleep? Why do I feel so naked and exposed? Why is it causing me such pain? It is not as if I have not planned and started writing Collin’s story or Will’s … so what is my major malfunction with writing this tale for you to read? Honestly, I do not understand my distress. I hope that I will discover, in my writing of this tale, the reason for my internal disquiet.
I must insert a little note here: Dearest Ducky, I had not read your post before I started writing this second chapter of Reasonings. So there is NOTHING in this that you should feel bad about. You are a blessing. My internal distress is just that–MINE. It was there before reading your post and was most assuredly there after; without much change. Ducky wrote a very nice post titled ‘Howling at the Moon” that might have been misconstrued if you hadn’t read the second post first like I did. Ducky is a very moving and thought-provoking writer. I truly enjoy his writing and his spirit of generosity. You should check him out. 🙂
Now, back to me. My husband has requested that I continue writing. He was moved to tears. So, I will move forward even though I awoke this morning (Friday morning) pretty determined not to continue. NOTE: This is as far as I was able to get in my writing before “LIFE” rudely interrupted and snuffed out all opportunity to write further. There were things weight related that I wanted to speak to you on, but I just couldn’t get them out my mind and on to paper (so-to-speak) either. This post was hanging over my head like the loud-lightening-filled-clouds which roll in every afternoon and evening here, heavy laden, dousing my ability to finish my daily ride with biting rain and menacing bolts of white-hot electricity. That is how debilitating unfinished work presses on my mind, will, and emotions … terrifyingly crippling. Maybe you know what I am talking about?
I sit here staring at the blinking cursor, willing myself to write. I wish to apologize for how long this is going to be–I am trying with all my might to get this written. I need to move forward. Hanging in this paused-waiting-for-life-to-continue-abyss is horrible. I press forward. I must. There is lyric-free music playing in the background and an electrical humming in my ears (I am not sure if that is real or health related, probably a mixture of both. I just remembered I haven’t taken my meds–let me fix that, now.). The music is there to provide a barrier from outside noise. I am doing all I can to make myself reach down within and pull this story from my inner most regions and write the remaining parts to this trilogy that haunt me. I apologize for my elongated/wordy struggle to finish what I have started. I am determined NOT to allow myself to run from this task, no matter how painful. It is painful.
When we broke the telling of this tale many days ago I left you with the statement that, “I will tell you that in the middle of this horrible mess, came wonderful light and a few new terrifying hurdles to jump …”. Well, there were many more trials in our dark journey through the world of TBI (traumatic Brain Injury); these deserve a fictional novel, because no one will ever believe they were real. I will leave you to your imaginations on this one. Pull out a Steven King or Dean Koonts (happens to be my favorite author) novel, and you will get the picture. Our continuous heart-wrenching-roller-coaster-ride-intense trials lasted the better part of seven years with a gradual tapering to normal-ish trials with only a few heart wrenchers over the later years peppered in for good measure. I am not sure if it brought calm or we grew accustomed to the stress.
Our lives will NEVER be devoid of stress; we have accepted that and acknowledged our new place in life. Just as we accepted the fact that though our beloved Will did not die, the young man we knew had died in that fateful accident. We had to grieve the loss of the person we had once known and look afresh at this young man who now stood before us and learn to love this new man. It wasn’t hard, because he too is amazing in many ways and we celebrate each new day we get to have him, speak to him, hug him, and rejoice with him in the life he has now made for himself. God is good.
Out of our darkest night came the most wonderful gift. Thanks to Will’s gracious gift of his life for his brother’s, my younger son Collin, who barely spoke, and we were just his tools to achieve life sustenance reached out to us. Will’s accident was so powerfully moving for Collin he came from his world to ours. Collin lived within a pliable bubble that both separated him from our world and allowed him to be here. It protected him from the overly stimulating harshnesses of this our modern life. Will’s accident, caused Collin to WANT to speak to us. To WANT to be a part of OUR lives. He stretched his hand through the bubble shattering the barrier between our worlds irrevocably. He cried out in the back of our car. I still remember the night sitting at the stop light across from Home Depot, waiting to turn to go to I don’t remember where. We were riding around in our customary dazed and lifeless states attempting to act on our daily responsibilities. We were numb, lost in a sea of pain, when Collin shouted out, “My Will … My Will. He get me … He get me… He get run over by a car.” He repeated this phrase over and over. Mike and I look at each other, and I start crying (something I have been unable release before this point in our journey). We were astounded.
Collin called Will, “His Will.” Autistic people do not generally bond with their families, and Collin was no exception to this rule, before this night. We were just objects to Collin. Now, Will was his. He began to protect Will’s belongings in our house. He kept telling us that Will was dead. He was Collin’s Will, who got him and was hit by a car. Collin, being only 6, was not allowed to visit Will in the hospital. After so many agonizing attempts to make him understand, we went to the hospital staff and convinced them he need to see his brother was alive. I will try to set the scene, I am not sure I can do it justice. You have to understand the hardened patronizing doctors-in-training, nurses, and aids’ attitudes that were in the room to assist should things get messy, because I, the stupid mom, insisted that they break their rule. With scowls and condescending looks, they ushered us in. When Collin screamed (that is how he talks at this time in his life-some even now), “My Will. You’re alive. You’re Alive” He ran to will with eyes filled with wonder falling to his knees hugging his brothers feet (Will was in a wheel chair unable to walk). “Will not dead,” he proclaimed to us as he touched his brother saying these words over and over again. He was so excited. The atmosphere in the room changed. Shocked now were the hardened-cold professionals struggling not to burst into tears, some left the room as if chased by demons.
My heart burst with joy. At this moment, I thought I had both my sons restored to me. I had no idea what was ahead of me. I thought foolishly that I was nearing the end of my heartbreak and terror. Collin had a language burst, and a cognitive burst. He went from being our little alien to our little man. A constant source of joy and and marvel. His breaking forth into our world was complete and whole. While our customs were still confusing and strange, he wanted to learn them now. He wanted to know us as people. This day was as astounding as the day he read aloud the letters for the word mom off a piece of paper at the age of 5 and called me mama for the first time. Understand, joining our world was incredibly painful for Collin. The screaming would not be over for years to come and some struggles are beyond painful still. He is aware that he is not like everyone else. From the time of his new birth in our world he began to recognize that he was not like others, and said to me, after watching Pinocchio, “Want to be a regular boy.” How can I describe pain so fierce that melts the heart? I have no words for my heartache on this. I told him, I didn’t want a regular boy, I wanted him the way God made him. He was a special blessing. Still, my heart broke for what I knew would hurt him, now that he was a feeling part of our world. Had I really prayed so hard for this? Prayed so hard for him to be a part of a life so cruel? As Dean Koonts said in one of his Odd Thomas books, “A little terror goes a long way.” I have to agree with him and add same goes for stress and heart break. Still, God is good.
I must add another note here: I am a Christian and generally don’t go overboard talking about it in my blog, not for shame, but because this blog is about weight loss. This story, however, is about me and my life. If you are not a Christian, that is OK: I still love you, and please don’t assume anything about how I view you. You would most likely be wrong. I have no stones to throw, no axes to grind, and no voice of accusation for weary hearts. I have but the love and compassion that my Father has shown me. My faith has been my compass in this horrid storm that was so strong and blinding, without its loving guidance I would have drowned long ago; wrecked and beaten on the rocks of adversity. My heartache and trials have brought me through the valley of weeping to the mount of God who is my hope to continue forward, breathing-living to chose joy and life. I do not think I am a shining example of holiness and godliness; just ask most church folk: I don’t measure up. I am just thankful that God’s mercies are new each morning and for some strange reason he loves me and I can feel that — so I am good. 🙂
Why did I break to tell you this about me? Well, we are not through with the heart break. You need to understand how I got through it, even if it was horribly wobbly and awkward; there were times I completely stunk and had no resemblance to the man I claim to agree with in my faith (thus the reason there is no fish or Jesus stickers on my car, I know I would blow it!). Me and the “Church Ladies” as I call them don’t often get along well. Not that these ladies are bad, I just completely fry all their nerves, and they just can’t get over it. I understand where they are coming from and respect them, I just can’t be them, nor do I believe that God has called me to. They do not understand this and that IS very ok. God loves us both; thankfully we each have hope. 🙂
Back to the rest of our story: Collin has been a huge blessing in a time filled with heartache. Not to say he was not a very stiff challenge, but that challenge though tiring was a blessed diversion from the loss in other areas. He is now a junior in high school. He plays clarinet in the band (they played Carnigiage Hall–I was there–amazing). He will drive a car (This month he is official, he is the best driver of all the kids. haha) and he is extremely brilliant. He will go to college and most likely be a PHD. He likes girls, but is horribly awkward and not sure how to press forward in conversation with them. I think someday he will find a girl who will feel so blessed to find herself loved and tenderly cherished beyond measure; to a man this lucky girl can give her love in safe abandon. This brightens a mothers heart, because the doctors told her when they diagnosed Collin, that his life was most likely going to be that of an institution. God is good.
Again … I must apologize for several things. 1) This is going to be posted before editing because if I wait I might not post, and 2) because this is going to be a quadrilogy instead of a trilogy I took too long explaining stuff.
The next episode in the saga will deal with another brand of heartache and bring us close to the why all this makes any difference in my weight loss journey … S