Nor Can You Or I

Almost eleven years, and I still struggle with professionals dissecting my son, owning pieces of him due to their particular expertise, acting as if the human soul can be categorized.

Labeled.

Assessed with comparison data, progress reports, and medical codes.

People are fluid, like water, changing from the thirty-foot waves on Nauset Beach to a frozen puddle on the playground at work throwing 5th grade boys on their backs as we play soccer at recess.

Change from snowflakes to ice cubes, creeks to hail, torrential rain to tear drops, water never stays still.

Like people.

We change like the wind that chills your bones in January and gives you sweet relief from the heat of July.

Wind that can rip the sun-baked roof from your home and mine and swirl fall leaves in the air in an exotic dance of crimson and gold.

Elias "blows up" because he is over-stimulated, in "fight or flight", an (almost) eleven-year-old boy, visually overwhelmed, outright defiant, misunderstood, socially awkward, we can try to pigeonhole his behavior but really, he's just a kid making his way in the world.

Elias can't be categorized.

Nor can you.

Or I.

Comments

[Joann]

I love this Christy. And you're 100% right on.
None of us should ever be judged by our highs -
Or our lows. We're humans- and we run the gamut-each
and every one of us.

[Noel Dennehy]

I can't wait for the day when you can just write. You are the best- no you and Nick are the best!!!

[s.e.]

Many years ago I read an article about "different" kids that said "labels are for cans" my dd loved that idea. At 18 she is scared of the future, a child in a woman's body. Holds my hand still often in public, likes to cuddle and can't read, in a body whose curves cause catcalls from passing cars.